“You let me bury an empty urn.”
“I was twenty-three.”
“You let my grandmother die believing he was dead!”
“I didn’t know you existed.”
“You knew his name.”
“Ryan wasn’t using his real name.”
I threw the folder onto the desk.
“Then explain.”
Christopher looked exhausted.
“My father was not a good man.”
I said nothing.
“Everyone remembers Arthur Bennett as a visionary. A developer. Philanthropist. He built hospitals and schools.”
His voice hardened.
“He also laundered money for organized crime.”
I stared.
“Ryan discovered it.”
“How?”
“He worked for one of our construction companies.”
That made sense.
Ryan had been an electrician.
“He noticed invoices for materials that never arrived. Properties purchased through shell companies. Payments routed offshore.”
Christopher continued.
“He tried reporting it internally.”
“And?”
“My father found out.”
My stomach twisted.
Christopher looked toward the window.
“Ryan was offered a choice. Disappear or die.”
I whispered, “So he disappeared.”
