Chapter 13 - Gabriel’s Last Lie
Gabriel was gone.
His apartment empty.
Phone disconnected.
His brother gone too.
Police immediately treated him as a possible co-conspirator.
I almost agreed.
Then remembered Sabrina’s warning.
Don’t trust Gabriel.
She had known something.
Sabrina met me at my attorney’s office with Leo coloring quietly in the next room.
“I didn't mean he planned the attack.”
“What did you mean?”
“He planned everything else.”
Gabriel had been trying to dismantle Christian for over a year.
Not morally.
Financially.
He believed Christian would eventually destroy him, so he began moving evidence, contracts and money into places he could control.
The attack payment passed through one of his accounts because Christian ordered him to make it untraceable.
Gabriel complied.
Again, intention did not erase participation.
But why disappear now?
Because he had taken something.
Christian's unreleased music catalog.
Master recordings worth potentially $70 million.
Gabriel used the chaos to transfer control into a shell company.
“He's stealing from Christian.”
“Yes.”
“While helping me.”
“Yes.”
There it was.
No loyal rescuer.
No clean ally.
Gabriel helped me survive because he was horrified by the attack.
He also used my crisis to execute his own exit.
People can do both.
Then he called.
“Genevieve.”
“Where are you?”
“Safe.”
“From Christian?”
“From Evelyn.”
“What did you take?”
He laughed softly.
“You already know.”
“Give it back.”
Silence.
“You're defending Christian?”
“No. I'm refusing to let you use what happened to me as cover for theft.”
That landed.
Gabriel became angry.
“I spent nine years cleaning up after him.”
“And made millions doing it.”
“I lost everything.”
“So did I.”
Silence.
Then his voice softened.
“There’s another reason I left.”
“What?”
“The man who attacked you.”
Gabriel had identified him.
Not a random criminal.
A former stage-security contractor named Damon Reese.
Reese had worked for Christian.
But years earlier, he had also worked for Hartwell Music Publishing.
My family's company.
“Who hired him this time?”
“Christian gave the order.”
“I know.”
“But someone gave Christian Reese’s name.”
“Who?”
Gabriel didn't answer immediately.
Then:
“Your mother.”
Impossible.
“She’s dead.”
“Her files aren't.”
He found an old Hartwell contingency document containing Reese’s contact details under a security-services list.
Christian discovered it while searching my trust records.
So even the attack tool had come from my family's buried past.
Not conspiracy.
Inheritance.
Old systems waiting for cruel people to reuse them.
Then Gabriel said:
“I’m sending you the catalog.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“I moved it somewhere Evelyn can't reach.”
“Where?”
“Hartwell.”
My trust.
He had transferred Christian's masters into temporary escrow controlled by the very woman Christian tried to control.
Me.
“Undo it.”
“You may not want to after you see Track Seventeen.”
“What is Track Seventeen?”
“A recording Christian never released.”
Then the call ended.
My attorney opened the escrow archive.
Track Seventeen.
Audio.
Christian singing quietly.
Then speaking to someone between takes.
Evelyn.
“If Genevieve ever learns why her face matters to Hartwell, everything collapses.”
My attorney froze.
I looked at her.
“What does my face have to do with a music trust?”
May you like
She whispered:
“Maybe more than your name.”
