Chapter 10 - Fire Beneath the Roses
Smoke was rising from the Fairmont Grand when we reached Washington.
Fire crews surrounded the east side of the hotel.
Guests had been evacuated.
The flames were concentrated in the ballroom and the foundation offices above it.
My father had chosen the two places holding the most evidence.
Mara’s team entered through the service corridor.
Celia remained with medics outside.
I followed the agents despite Mara’s warning.
The white roses had turned brown from smoke.
Water poured across the marble floor.
The gala banner hung in burned pieces above the stage.
An agent found a security guard unconscious near the kitchen entrance.
He had been struck from behind.
The fire alarm system had been disabled before the flames began.
This was not panic.
It was planned destruction.
We climbed to the second-floor foundation office.
The door was locked.
Smoke pushed beneath it.
An agent forced it open.
Inside, my father stood beside an open wall safe.
He wore no jacket.
His sleeves were rolled up.
In one hand, he held a metal case.
In the other, he held a lighter.
He looked at me through the smoke.
“You should have stayed away.”
Mara raised her weapon.
“Grant Warren, put down the case.”
My father ignored her.
“Elise, do you know what your mother’s greatest weakness was?”
“She trusted you.”
“No.”
“She believed truth automatically defeated power.”
He lifted the case.
“Truth is only paper.”
“Paper burns.”
Mara ordered him again to put it down.
My father flicked the lighter.
I saw the desperation behind his calm expression.
“You killed Andrew,” I said.
His hand stopped.
“He was dangerous.”
“He was fourteen.”
“He attacked Celia.”
“That is a lie.”
“You were not there.”
“Neither was Celia.”
He stared at me.
“Your mother filled your head with courage because she never had to live with the consequences.”
“She lived with you.”
“That was her choice.”
“Did you kill her too?”
Something shifted in his face.
Not guilt.
Annoyance.
“She had weeks left.”
“You gave Cole permission.”
“I gave your mother peace.”
I moved toward him.
Mara caught my arm.
My father smiled.
“There she is.”
“The unstable soldier.”
“The daughter who cannot control herself.”
He turned slightly toward the body camera on Mara’s vest.
“Everyone will see it.”
I understood what he wanted.
He wanted me angry.
He wanted me violent.
Even at the end, he was building evidence against me.
I stepped back.
“No, Dad.”
“You do not get to write this version.”
His smile faded.
“You always were a disappointment.”
“No.”
I looked directly at him.
“I was simply the daughter you could never frighten enough.”
He dropped the lighter into the open safe.
Flames rose from the documents inside.
Then he threw the metal case toward the broken window.
I broke free from Mara and caught it before it went through.
My father lunged at me.
We hit the desk.
He grabbed my injured shoulder and drove his thumb into the wound.
Pain shot through my arm.
For a man in his sixties, he was strong.
Fear had stripped away his careful appearance.
He reached for the case.
I twisted away.
Mara and another agent pulled him back.
He fought them.
“I built that foundation.”
“It belongs to me.”
“No,” I said.
“It belonged to Mom.”
The agents forced him to the floor and placed him in handcuffs.
For the first time in my life, my father looked small.
Not harmless.
Never harmless.
Just small.
Mara took the case from me.
The lock had partially melted.
Inside were paper files, microfilm, and a sealed letter addressed to the United States Department of Justice.
My mother had preserved the original records in a fire-resistant case.
She knew Grant would eventually try to destroy them.
As firefighters controlled the office, Mara opened the first file.
It contained Andrew’s original medical report.
He had never attacked anyone.
He had discovered my father stealing from a family trust.
Grant used Dr. Cole’s father to have him declared unstable.
The next file documented my mother’s medication.
Cole had increased her sedatives without authorization.
The final folder contained a list of judges, doctors, lawyers, and business leaders connected to Northbridge.
Mara’s face hardened as she read the names.
“This is larger than the foundation.”
“How large?”
She closed the file.
“Large enough that your father may be the least powerful person involved.”
Outside, cameras recorded Grant Warren being led from the hotel in handcuffs.
May you like
But while the country watched my father fall, one man quietly left the scene through the crowd.
Nolan Pierce had disappeared.
