“Yes.”
I slapped him.
The sound cracked through the room.
Mrs. Alvarez appeared in the doorway.
Christopher raised a hand.
“Leave us.”
She hesitated.
Then obeyed.
I stared at him.
“You let me bury an empty urn.”
“I was twenty-three.”
“You let my grandmother die believing he was dead!”
“I didn’t know you existed.”
“You knew his name.”
“Ryan wasn’t using his real name.”
I threw the folder onto the desk.
“Then explain.”
Christopher looked exhausted.
“My father was not a good man.”
I said nothing.
“Everyone remembers Arthur Bennett as a visionary. A developer. Philanthropist. He built hospitals and schools.”
His voice hardened.
“He also laundered money for organized crime.”
I stared.
“Ryan discovered it.”
“How?”
“He worked for one of our construction companies.”
That made sense.
