Chapter 7 - THE MAN WHO WANTED TO OWN A KINGMarcus Vane was not King Edmund’s half-brother.
That was the next lie.
Dad had uncovered a pattern.
Alistair Crane did not simply forge one succession document.
He built several versions of reality.
In one, Julian was illegitimate.
In another, Marcus possessed royal blood.
In a third, Edmund’s late brother had secretly fathered Marcus.
Each lie supported the same result:
Create enough legal confusion to force Parliament into emergency regency provisions.
And who administered the monarchy during a disputed succession?
The Lord Chamberlain.
Sir Alistair Crane.
“He doesn’t want Marcus to be king,” I said.
Edmund looked at me.
“He wants a weak claimant.”
“Exactly.”
Someone dependent on him.
Someone compromised.
Someone he could control.
Marcus thought he was climbing toward the throne.
In reality, Alistair was building a puppet.
Julian paced the crypt.
“So we take the evidence to the Council.”
“Not yet.”
He stopped.
“Emily, they vote in ninety minutes.”
“And if we reveal everything now, what happens?”
“Alistair is exposed.”
“Only if these documents survive scrutiny.”
“They will.”
“Eventually.”
I pointed at the drive.
“But today? He’ll claim Dad fabricated them. He’ll claim the United States planted them. He’ll claim your father manipulated a dead American officer.”
Edmund nodded reluctantly.
“She is right.”
Julian stared at us.
“So what do we do?”
I had spent most of my adult life planning around adversaries.
You did not ask what they were doing.
You asked what they needed you to do.
Alistair needed us panicked.
He needed the king to charge into the Council.
He needed public uncertainty.
He needed Marcus accessible.
“What does Marcus think is happening?” I asked.
Edmund looked at Vale.
The colonel checked.
“Lord Vane entered Parliament twenty minutes ago.”
“Perfect.”
Julian stared at me.
“How is that perfect?”
“Because he thinks he’s winning.”
I called Caroline.
She answered immediately.
“Emily?”
“I need your help.”
Silence.
Then:
“Anything.”
“Marcus trusts you?”
“I think so.”
“Good.”
Julian stiffened.
“What are you planning?”
I ignored him.
“Carrie, send Marcus a message.”
“What should it say?”
“Tell him the king found Dad’s archive.”
She inhaled sharply.
“Then tell him I found evidence Alistair plans to betray him.”
Julian stared at me.
Caroline said, “Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want Marcus to do?”
“Panic.”
She understood immediately.
I heard her typing.
“What else?”
“Tell him I’m willing to trade the archive.”
Edmund raised an eyebrow.
“For what?”
Caroline asked the same question.
“For the truth about Dad’s death.”
Mom, who had joined us by secure line from the palace, gasped.
“Emily, no.”
“I’m not actually trading anything.”
Caroline sent the message.
Three minutes later, Marcus called.
She put him on speaker.
“Caroline.”
His voice was smooth.
Controlled.
“You should not be contacting me.”
“She knows.”
Silence.
“Who?”
“Emily.”
Another pause.
“What does she know?”
“About Alistair.”
Silence.
“Marcus?”
“Where are you?”
“Palace.”
“And Commander Carter?”
“With me.”
He swore softly.
“She found Robert’s archive?”
“Yes.”
“What exactly did she find?”
I took the phone.
“Enough.”
Marcus stopped breathing.
“Commander.”
“Lord Vane.”
“I suspect we’ve both been badly misled.”
“Did you kill my father?”
“No.”
The speed of his answer surprised me.
“Did Alistair?”
Silence.
“Marcus.”
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer.”
“Wait.”
His control cracked.
“I know Alistair ordered someone to follow Robert.”
“When?”
“Before the boat accident.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Why?”
“He believed your father had copied financial records.”
“Did he sabotage the boat?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you know Caroline was being manipulated?”
“I was manipulating her.”
Caroline flinched.
At least he admitted it.
“But not for the reason you think.”
“Enlighten me.”
“I believed the archive contained proof Edmund intended to remove Julian from succession.”
Julian rolled his eyes.
“Alistair told me Commander Carter would be used as justification for a constitutional restructuring.”
“You believed that?”
“I believed what benefited me.”
There it was.
Greed.
Dad had described him perfectly.
Predictable.
“I have evidence Alistair has been using you.”
Marcus breathed heavily.
“What evidence?”
“Meet me.”
“Where?”
“The place your friend broadcast from.”
Silence.
“How do you know where that is?”
“I don’t.”
A beat.
“Yet.”
Then I hung up.
Julian stared at me.
“You don’t know where Alistair is.”
“No.”
“But Marcus does.”
Colonel Vale smiled slightly.
We traced Marcus’s phone.
He left Parliament seven minutes later.
The royal security service followed discreetly.
His car drove across the capital.
Past the palace.
Past the cathedral.
Toward the harbor.
King Edmund looked at the map.
“The old Royal Yacht Club.”
Dad had investigated maritime contractors.
Of course.
We drove separately.
No sirens.
No motorcade.
Vale arranged plain vehicles.
The yacht club had closed five years earlier after storm damage.
Marcus entered through a service gate.
We waited.
Ten minutes later, another vehicle arrived.
Sir Alistair Crane stepped out.
The eighty-year-old Lord Chamberlain looked almost frail.
That was the strange thing about dangerous people.
Sometimes they didn’t look dangerous at all.
Vale’s team placed directional microphones near a broken window.
We listened from two rooms away.
Marcus spoke first.
“You lied to me.”
Alistair answered calmly.
“I educated you.”
“You said Edmund’s files proved I had royal blood.”
“They do.”
“They’re forged.”
Silence.
Marcus continued.
“Robert Carter knew.”
At Dad’s name, my entire body tightened.
Alistair sighed.
“Robert was unfortunately thorough.”
“Did you kill him?”
A long pause.
Then Alistair said:
“I prevented a greater catastrophe.”
My vision narrowed.
Mom made a strangled sound through the earpiece.
Marcus whispered, “My God.”
“Do not become sentimental now.”
“You killed an American naval officer.”
“He was retired.”
I started toward the door.
Vale grabbed my arm.
“Commander.”
I stopped.
Barely.
Alistair continued.
“Robert intended to destroy the stability of this institution over financial irregularities he did not understand.”
“You sabotaged his boat?”
“I arranged for a maintenance error.”
My stomach turned.
A maintenance error.
Twelve years of grief reduced to three words.
Marcus said, “And now his daughter has the evidence.”
“Yes.”
“What are you going to do?”
Alistair’s voice remained calm.
“What I should have done years ago.”
Vale’s eyes narrowed.
“Move.”
We entered fast.
Royal guards broke through two doors simultaneously.
“DOWN!”
Marcus threw himself to the floor.
Alistair did not move.
He stood beside a table, one hand resting on a silver-headed cane.
When he saw King Edmund enter, sadness—not fear—crossed his face.
“Your Majesty.”
Edmund stared at him.
“Forty years.”
Alistair lowered his head.
“Forty-three.”
“You murdered Robert.”
“I protected you.”
Edmund’s voice broke.
“You murdered my friend.”
“I protected the monarchy he intended to destabilize.”
“No.”
The king stepped closer.
“You protected your power.”
Alistair’s face hardened.
“You are too emotional to understand.”
“Then explain.”
“I gave my life to the Crown.”
“You gave other people’s lives to it too.”
For the first time, Alistair looked angry.
“Your father nearly destroyed this country. Your brother was weak. Your son is impulsive. You married for love instead of strategy. Someone had to preserve continuity.”
Edmund stared at him.
“You believe that someone is you.”
“I know it is.”
Then Alistair looked at me.
“Commander Carter.”
I wanted to hit him.
Instead, I stood perfectly still.
“My father trusted you once.”
“He trusted Edmund.”
“You killed him.”
“He made a choice.”
“No.”
My voice remained calm.
“You made the choice.”
His jaw tightened.
I stepped closer.
“And you made a second mistake.”
“What?”
“You thought because my father was dead, his evidence was dead too.”
Alistair almost smiled.
“I knew Robert better than you imagine.”
“Then you should have remembered what he taught me.”
“And what was that?”
I looked toward the royal guards surrounding him.
“Always leave yourself a way home.”
Colonel Vale held up a recorder.
Every word Alistair had said was captured.
Marcus had secretly recorded the conversation too.
Within minutes, the confession was transmitted to the Council of State.
The vote to suspend Julian was canceled.
Alistair Crane was arrested.
Marcus was detained for conspiracy, fraud, unauthorized access, and obstruction.
For the first time all day, it felt finished.
It wasn’t.
As guards led Alistair away, he stopped beside me.
“There’s something Robert never told you.”
I said nothing.
“He knew the boat had been tampered with before he sailed.”
My chest tightened.
“What?”
Alistair smiled faintly.
“He went anyway.”
I stepped toward him.
“Why?”
“Ask your mother.”
The guards took him away.
I immediately called Mom.
She answered crying.
“Emily.”
“Did Dad know?”
Silence.
“Mom.”
“Yes.”
The word nearly destroyed me.
“He knew someone had tampered with the boat?”
“He suspected.”
“And you let him go?”
“I begged him not to.”
“Why did he go?”
Mom could barely speak.
“Because Caroline was on the boat.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“What?”
My mother sobbed.
“Your sister was with him.”
I remembered nothing about that.
Caroline had supposedly been at a friend’s house when Dad died.
“Caroline survived?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Your father got her off.”
My knees weakened.
“He died saving Caroline?”
Mom cried harder.
“Yes.”
I looked back toward the harbor where Alistair disappeared into a police vehicle.
My sister had spent her entire life believing Dad understood me better.
She had resented me for being his brave daughter.
May you like
And all this time, the final thing our father ever did—
was die saving her.
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