Conman

Chapter 13: The Heir to Deceit

Monty sat at his desk in the police station, the hum of activity around him doing little to distract him from the emptiness gnawing at his thoughts. It had been a month since he had last seen Beau—since that night on the beach where they had shared so much, yet left so much unsaid. Monty had given Beau the space he asked for, understanding that the grief of losing Mr. Archer was a heavy burden to bear. But as the days turned into weeks, worry began to creep into his heart. What if Beau never came back? What if he never heard from him again?

Beau's last words echoed in Monty's mind, haunting him: "Let me fix everything and think about what to do with life now. Until then, wait for me. Wait for me, until I can face you bravely." The uncertainty of what Beau meant by those words kept Monty up at night, his mind churning with unanswered questions.

But life moved on, even as Monty felt stuck in limbo. He threw himself into his work, solving cases, and keeping busy to avoid dwelling on the ache of Beau's absence. It wasn't until he received the letter from Mr. Archer's lawyer that Monty felt the familiar pang of dread return. The letter had been brief, asking him to come to the lawyer's office as soon as possible. Monty assumed it had something to do with the stolen jewelry case he had handled, but a part of him knew it was more than that.

When Monty arrived at the lawyer's office, he was shown into a spacious room lined with bookshelves and dark wood furniture. The lawyer, a stern-looking man with glasses perched on the edge of his nose, greeted him with a nod.

"Please, have a seat, Detective Montgomery," the lawyer said, gesturing to a leather chair opposite his desk. "We're waiting for one more person."

Monty sat down, his fingers tapping nervously on the armrest as he glanced around the room. The minutes stretched on, each one adding to the weight of anticipation in his chest. Finally, the door opened, and Monty's breath caught in his throat.

Beau walked in, his presence commanding the room with the effortless confidence Monty had always admired. He looked as striking as ever, dressed in a tailored suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and sharp features. But something was different—there was a distance in his eyes, a coldness that Monty hadn't seen before.

"Beau," Monty whispered, a tentative smile tugging at his lips. But Beau didn't return the smile. He only nodded briefly, his gaze unreadable as he took a seat next to Monty.

The lawyer cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence. "Now that both of you are here, I'll proceed with reading Mr. Archer's last will and testament."

Monty listened in stunned silence as the lawyer detailed Mr. Archer's wishes. The vast empire of businesses would go to Beau, Mr. Archer's adopted son. But it was what came next that turned Monty's world upside down.

"The entirety of Mr. Archer's jewelry, valuables, and cash in his bank accounts are to be inherited by Montgomery, Mr. Archer's biological son," the lawyer continued, his voice measured.

Monty's mind reeled. Biological son? The words didn't make sense. He stared at the lawyer, then at Beau, hoping for some kind of explanation. But Beau remained silent, his expression unreadable.

The lawyer continued, "All of Mr. Archer's other properties, including houses and vehicles both domestic and overseas, will be shared equally between Montgomery and Beaumont."

It was too much. The revelations came one after another, each one more bewildering than the last. Monty's hands clenched in his lap as he struggled to process what he was hearing.

"I don't understand," Monty finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "This doesn't make any sense. How... how am I his son?"

Without a word, the lawyer reached into his desk and handed Monty a letter, the envelope worn and creased as if it had been handled many times before. Monty's name was scrawled on the front in familiar handwriting.

"Mr. Archer left this for you," the lawyer said quietly.

With trembling hands, Monty opened the letter. The paper inside was thin, almost fragile, and the handwriting was shaky, as if written by someone in their final days. Monty began to read.

Monty,

If you're reading this, it means I'm no longer in this world. I've always wanted to protect you and your mother, and that's why I chose to walk the path I did.

I was the mastermind behind the scams and con activities. I did it to protect our family, to ensure we had a future. But I realized too late the cost of my actions. I had to fake my own death to keep you safe, to keep the heat off you.

Beau... He's like a son to me. I found him when he was just a teenager, lost and alone. I taught him everything I knew, not because I wanted him to follow in my footsteps, but because I saw in him a spark, a potential to survive in this cruel world.

I'm sorry, Monty. I'm sorry for the lies, for the deception. I hope one day you can forgive me.

Love, Dad

Monty's hands shook as he finished reading the letter, the words blurring in front of his eyes. He stared at the page, trying to reconcile the man he had idolized as a child with the mastermind behind the very crimes he had sworn to stop.

His father—the man he had mourned for years, the man whose supposed death had shaped the course of his entire life—had been alive all this time, living in the shadows. And Beau... Beau had known. He had been a part of it all.

Monty looked up from the letter, his eyes locking onto Beau's. "Is it true?" he asked, his voice breaking. "Did you know?"

Beau's expression softened, the coldness in his eyes melting into something more vulnerable. He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. "I knew some of it," Beau admitted quietly. "But not everything. Not that he was your father."

Monty shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't he tell me?"

"Because he wanted to protect you," Beau said, his voice thick with emotion. "He thought... he thought this was the only way. He didn't want you to get caught up in all of it."

Monty's heart ached with the weight of betrayal and loss. He felt like the ground had been ripped out from under him, leaving him suspended in a void of confusion and pain. But amidst the turmoil, one thing remained clear—his feelings for Beau.

"Beau..." Monty began, his voice trembling. "I don't know what to do with all of this. I don't know how to process any of it. But I do know that I still care about you. Even after everything."

Beau looked at him, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and regret. "I care about you too, Monty. More than you know. But I understand if... if this changes things between us."

Monty shook his head slowly, reaching out to take Beau's hand. "It changes everything," he said softly. "But it doesn't change how I feel about you. We'll figure it out together. Somehow."

For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of Mr. Archer's revelations hanging heavy between them. But in that silence, there was also a glimmer of something else—hope. A fragile, tentative hope that despite the lies and the secrets, they could find a way forward together.

And as Monty held Beau's hand, he knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, he wasn't ready to give up on the possibility of a future with the man he had come to love. Even if that future was built on the ashes of the past.