Chapter 5 - Simon’s Debt
Dwayne did not reach for the charter.
Victor waited.
Addison stood near her desk with one hand resting on the drawer.
No one moved.
Then Dwayne said, “Get out.”
Victor laughed.
“You think this is your building?”
“Yes.”
“You think that still matters?”
“Yes.”
Victor looked at Addison.
“Your employer has confidence.”
“My employer has a building full of reinforced doors and a deeply unhealthy attachment to control.”
Dwayne looked at her.
“Helpful.”
“I try.”
Victor’s smile thinned.
“You have until dawn.”
“For what?”
“The charter.”
“And Elena?”
“Alive until then.”
Dwayne’s jaw tightened.
Victor walked toward the office door.
No one stopped him.
Addison watched.
“Why are you letting him leave?”
Dwayne’s answer was immediate.
“Because he came alone.”
“So?”
“So he wants to be followed.”
She understood.
Trap.
Victor turned once.
“Malcolm would be disappointed in you.”
Dwayne’s face did not change.
“Join the line.”
Victor left.
Addison closed the drawer.
The charter remained inside.
Dwayne stood by the window.
His reflection looked carved from the dark glass.
Addison moved toward him.
“Simon may be lying.”
“No.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know his father died when he was nine.”
“How?”
“Warehouse fire.”
“Your father?”
“Malcolm owned the warehouse.”
“That does not mean he caused it.”
Dwayne turned.
“Simon thinks he did.”
“That matters. It does not make it true.”
Dwayne looked tired now.
Not physically.
Structurally.
Like one more betrayal had been placed on a building already carrying too much weight.
“Simon’s father was Edward Fletcher.”
Addison knew the name from old Cross files.
Insurance investigator.
Worked briefly for Malcolm.
Then died.
She went to her computer.
“Give me ten minutes.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“You have been awake since—”
“Dwayne.”
He stopped.
“You have a strange habit of remembering workplace boundaries only when you want me to stop helping.”
He almost smiled.
“Ten minutes.”
She typed.
Old newspapers.
Insurance claims.
Warehouse inspection records.
Edward Fletcher’s death was ruled accidental.
Electrical fault.
But the warehouse contained seized cooperative records from the Cross-Lynwood-Romano period.
Addison found something else.
A payout.
To Simon’s mother.
Large.
From Malcolm Cross personally.
Dwayne saw it.
“Guilt.”
“Maybe.”
“Why else pay her?”
“Responsibility.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
Addison looked at him.
“Guilt means he caused it. Responsibility might mean he believed he failed to prevent it.”
Dwayne stared.
She continued searching.
One insurance photograph showed the warehouse after the fire.
In the background:
Frank Delaney.
The detective who later closed Arthur Lynwood’s case.
Addison’s pulse changed.
“Look.”
Dwayne leaned in.
Delaney had been everywhere.
Arthur.
Elena.
Cross Logistics.
Edward Fletcher.
“He worked for Victor,” Dwayne said.
“Likely.”
“Simon believes my father killed Edward.”
“Because someone wanted him to believe it.”
Dwayne’s phone rang.
Nico.
“We found the Pier Nine holding room.”
“And?”
“Documents. Surveillance photos. Elena’s medication. Simon left a laptop.”
“Intentionally?”
“Looks like it.”
Addison held out her hand.
“Send me the image.”
Nico sent photographs.
Simon’s laptop sat open to one file.
FLETCHER / MALCOLM.
Addison zoomed.
Old payment slips.
Photographs.
A statement from Frank Delaney claiming Malcolm ordered the warehouse fire.
There.
The lie Simon had been fed.
“Delaney.”
Dwayne nodded.
“Victor built Simon’s betrayal.”
Addison looked at him.
“Does that make it better?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Why good?”
“Because if you excuse betrayal simply because someone had a reason, you become very easy to manipulate.”
Dwayne stared.
“Personal experience?”
She thought of Elena.
Of her father.
Of herself.
“Everyone has reasons.”
He looked at her for a long moment.
“Why did you really stay at Cross Logistics?”
“I told you.”
“No. You told me why you came.”
Silence.
“Why did you stay after Dock Fourteen gave you nothing?”
Addison looked toward her desk.
The cardigan.
The paper clips.
Two years of routine.
“Because the transactions started again.”
“That is investigation.”
“Partly.”
“What else?”
She did not answer.
Dwayne stepped closer.
“Addison.”
“You were not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“A monster.”
“Disappointed?”
“Frequently.”
He smiled.
She hated that smile.
Not because it was arrogant.
Because recently it had become warm.
Dangerous in a different way.
“I saw how you treated workers,” she said. “You paid hospital bills when one of the dock crews got hurt.”
“So?”
“Criminals are inconvenient when they have moral inconsistencies.”
“You wanted me simpler.”
“Yes.”
“Easier to hate.”
“Yes.”
Dwayne nodded.
“I understand.”
That annoyed her.
“You cannot keep saying that.”
“Why?”
“Because it is becoming effective.”
His smile widened.
She pushed her glasses up.
“Do not.”
“Do not what?”
“Become charming after two years of pretending I’m office furniture.”
“I did not pretend.”
“Worse.”
He laughed.
Then his face sobered.
“Elena.”
“Yes.”
“We get her back.”
“Without giving Victor the charter.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Dwayne looked at Simon’s laptop.
“Simon wants proof about his father.”
Addison understood.
“We give him truth.”
“If he is willing to listen.”
“And if he isn’t?”
Dwayne looked at her.
“Then we stop him.”
No bravado.
No threat.
Just reality.
At 2:14 a.m., Addison reconstructed the warehouse fire.
Malcolm had not ordered it.
He had arrived ten minutes after ignition.
Fire department records proved it.
A traffic camera showed his car elsewhere at the start time.
Victor’s shell company purchased the warehouse insurance one month earlier.
Frank Delaney falsified the electrical report.
Edward Fletcher was not killed by Malcolm.
He was killed while searching for the same records Arthur later found.
Simon’s father and Addison’s father had been on the same side.
Addison stared at the final connection.
“Simon doesn’t know.”
“No.”
“He thinks my father was part of Malcolm’s cover-up.”
“Yes.”
She looked at Dwayne.
“Then he thinks I’m the daughter of his enemy.”
“And still kept you alive.”
“That is generous.”
“No.”
Dwayne shook his head.
“Simon likes you.”
“Simon mocks me.”
“That is how Simon likes people.”
“Emotionally advanced.”
“Never claimed otherwise.”
They packaged the evidence.
Then Addison received a message.
Elena.
One line:
OLD FERRY TERMINAL. 4AM. COME ALONE. SIMON WILL LET ME GO.
Addison stood.
Dwayne saw her screen.
“No.”
“Here we go.”
“You are not going alone.”
“If Simon sees you—”
“He expects you to tell me.”
“Maybe he hopes I won’t.”
“Then he does not know you very well.”
She looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
“You are cautious, suspicious, annoying, and far too intelligent to walk into an abandoned ferry terminal without backup.”
“Thank you?”
“It was praise.”
“Work on delivery.”
They went together.
Not visibly.
Addison entered the ferry terminal at 3:58 a.m.
Dwayne and Nico stayed two buildings away.
The waiting hall had cracked windows and rows of metal seats.
Simon stood near the old ticket counter.
Elena sat on a bench.
Untied.
Addison stopped.
“Elena.”
Her sister stood.
Simon raised one hand.
“She’s free.”
“Then let her walk.”
He did.
Elena crossed the room.
Addison held her.
Then pushed her gently toward the exit.
“Go.”
Elena whispered, “What about you?”
“Go.”
Elena left.
Simon watched.
“You always were bossy.”
Addison looked at him.
“You kidnapped my sister.”
“I moved her.”
Simon’s betrayal forced Dwayne to examine the friendships he had built around unquestioned loyalty. He had always believed trust meant never asking for proof. Addison believed the opposite: real trust could survive verification. Dwayne had mocked that kind of caution as cold. Now he understood that blind loyalty made people easy to weaponize. Simon had hidden resentment for years because Dwayne never asked what story he carried about his father. Brotherhood had become a word covering unanswered questions.
“Against her will.”
“Yes.”
“Kidnapping.”
“Fine.”
She took out the file.
“Your father.”
Simon’s face changed.
“No.”
“You are wrong about Malcolm.”
He laughed.
“Dwayne sent you.”
“Facts sent me.”
She slid photographs across the counter.
Simon did not look.
“Delaney saw Malcolm order the fire.”
“Delaney set the fire.”
Simon’s expression shifted.
“Lie.”
“Look.”
He did.
One photograph.
Then another.
His face slowly changed.
Addison spoke quietly.
“Edward Fletcher was investigating Romano.”
Simon’s hand trembled.
“No.”
“He found the warehouse files before my father.”
“No.”
“Victor killed him.”
“Stop.”
“Delaney covered it.”
“Stop.”
“Malcolm paid your mother because he blamed himself for not protecting Edward.”
Simon swept the papers off the counter.
They scattered.
He was breathing hard.
Addison did not move.
Then a voice came from the shadows.
Victor.
“Very convincing.”
Simon turned.
Victor emerged with two men.
“You followed me,” Simon said.
“Of course.”
Victor smiled.
“Did you really think I trusted a man who betrayed his brother?”
Simon looked at Addison.
The truth landed in his face.
Victor never intended to reward him.
Only use him.
Addison backed toward the exit.
Victor’s men blocked it.
“Where is Cross?” Victor asked.
“Sleeping.”
Victor laughed.
Then every light in the terminal came on.
Dwayne’s voice came from the upper balcony.
“I’ve never been good at sleeping.”
Victor looked up.
Dwayne stood above them with Nico and six security officers.
Simon closed his eyes.
“Of course.”
Dwayne looked at him.
“Simon.”
His oldest friend looked back.
No easy forgiveness.
No easy hate.
Just history.
Victor reached for Addison.
Simon moved first.
He hit Victor.
Hard.
Chaos followed.
When it ended, Victor escaped through a maintenance tunnel.
Again.
One of his men was arrested.
The other surrendered.
Simon sat on the floor with blood on his mouth.
Dwayne approached.
Simon looked up.
“You going to kill me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Dwayne’s expression was cold.
“Because you need to live long enough to understand what you did.”
Simon laughed bitterly.
“That’s cruel.”
“Yes.”
Addison came to stand beside Dwayne.
Simon looked at her.
“Your sister?”
“Safe.”
“Good.”
He nodded.
Then looked at Dwayne.
“Victor has one more person.”
Dwayne’s face changed.
“Who?”
Simon swallowed.
“Your mother.”
Dwayne stared.
“My mother is dead.”
Simon shook his head.
“No.”
Addison felt the night repeat itself.
Dead parents.
Hidden evidence.
False stories.
Simon continued.
“Cecilia Cross survived the cancer.”
Dwayne went still.
“What?”
“She disappeared.”
“No.”
“Victor found her last year.”
Dwayne’s voice became almost silent.
“Where?”
Simon looked toward the river.
“At the same place your father hid the final records.”
“Where?”
May you like
Simon answered.
“The house where you were born.”
