Chapter 10 - The Price of Being the Favorite SonFor most of my life, I thought Grant had everything I wanted.
Our father's attention.
His approval.
His pride.
Whenever Grant entered a room, Leonard smiled.
Whenever I entered, he asked when I was leaving again.
But as I listened to my brother speak, I began to understand something I'd never considered.
Grant had been trapped, too.
Not in the same way.
He had benefited from our father's favoritism.
He had accepted privileges he hadn't earned.
And he bore responsibility for his own decisions.
But he'd also been raised to believe that failure was unforgivable.
That the family name mattered more than honesty.
That admitting weakness meant losing love.
“Grant,” I said, “if you know about destroyed records, you need to tell investigators.”
He sounded exhausted.
“They'll destroy me.”
“Not telling the truth won't protect you.”
“You don't know what Dad expects.”
“I know exactly what Dad expects.”
He said nothing.
“I spent twenty-two years refusing to live according to his expectations.”
“And look where it got you,” Grant whispered.
I waited.
Then he surprised me.
“You became everything he said you couldn't.”
My throat tightened.
“Grant—”
“I used to think he was right about you.”
“I know.”
“I thought military service was an excuse because you couldn't succeed in business.”
I closed my eyes.
“You made that pretty clear.”
He exhaled.
“But when that Marine saluted you, I realized something.”
“What?”
“You'd built an entire life none of us understood.”
For a moment, I heard the brother I remembered from childhood.
The boy who used to follow me around the backyard.
The boy who cried when our dog died.
The boy who once begged me not to leave for boot camp because he was afraid the house would feel empty.
Then Grant continued.
“Amelia, I made terrible decisions.”
I waited.
“I signed documents I shouldn't have signed. I approved payments without asking enough questions. I let people tell me things were legal because I wanted them to be legal.”
“Who told you?”
“My business partners.”
“Names belong with investigators, Grant.”
“I know.”
His voice trembled.
“I just wanted Dad to be proud of me.”
I looked down.
There it was.
The same hunger that had followed me through childhood.
The difference was that I had walked away.
Grant had spent his life feeding it.
“Grant,” I said quietly, “Dad's approval was never worth becoming someone you couldn't respect.”
He began crying.
Not loudly.
Just a tired man finally losing control of the story he'd been telling himself.
“I don't know how to fix this.”
“You start by telling the truth.”
“What if he never forgives me?”
I swallowed.
“Then you learn to live without his approval.”
We stayed on the phone for another twenty minutes.
I didn't ask him to confess details to me.
I encouraged him to work with his attorney and cooperate lawfully.
Before hanging up, he said:
“Amelia?”
“Yes?”
“I was wrong about you.”
I closed my eyes.
“Thank you.”
That night, I received an update from Agent Bennett.
Grant's attorney had contacted investigators.
He was prepared to provide information about the company's financial operations.
It was a beginning.
But the next morning brought much worse news.
Engineers inspecting Harbor Point discovered evidence of a structural defect in a section that had previously been considered safe.
Workers had been scheduled to enter that area later in the day.
The installation commander ordered an immediate closure.
I arrived at the operations center before sunrise.
Commander Walker stood beside the latest engineering diagrams.
“Admiral, we need to move the remaining equipment out of the adjacent storage area.”
“How long?”
“Several hours, assuming the structure remains stable.”
“Personnel safety first. No unnecessary entry.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
The team moved quickly.
Civilian specialists, sailors, and emergency-response personnel coordinated the evacuation and equipment recovery.
Nobody acted recklessly.
Nobody tried to become a hero.
Their priority was getting everyone out safely.
Shortly before noon, the last workers cleared the affected section.
Twenty minutes later, a portion of the structure failed.
A deep crack echoed through the compound.
Dust rose above the roofline.
Metal supports buckled.
The building partially collapsed.
I watched the live security feed in silence.
If the evacuation had been delayed, people might have died.
Walker stood beside me.
“Admiral…”
“I know.”
We waited for confirmation.
Within minutes, the report arrived.
All personnel accounted for.
No injuries.
I exhaled slowly.
Then my phone rang.
Agent Bennett.
“Admiral, we have a development in Rebecca Collins's case.”
“Tell me.”
Her voice was unusually tense.
“We found Rebecca.”
I closed my eyes.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
Relief flooded through me.
But Bennett wasn't finished.
“She says the construction fraud wasn't the only reason she disappeared.”
I gripped the phone.
“What was?”
May you like
Bennett hesitated.
“Rebecca claims someone threatened her daughter.”
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