PART 4 \u2014 THE NAME ON THE FINAL PAGE
\nFiona’s hand began to shake.
\nNot a little.
\nViolently.
\nThe paper rattled between her fingers as every person in the room waited for her to say the name.
\nShe looked across the scattered champagne glasses, the ruined birthday decorations, and the documents covering the marble floor.
\nThen her eyes stopped on someone standing beside the enormous white birthday cake.
\n\u201cGraham?\u201d
\nThe name came out as barely more than a breath.
\nAn older man in a navy suit slowly lowered his champagne glass.
\nGraham Vale.
\nFiona’s younger brother.
\nJulian’s beloved uncle.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The man Fiona had introduced to everyone for years as the only person she trusted completely with her financial affairs.
\nGraham’s face went blank.
\n\u201cWhat are you talking about?\u201d
\nFiona lifted the document.
\n\u201cThis is your signature.\u201d
\nGraham didn’t answer.
\nHer voice rose.
\n\u201cGRAHAM, THIS IS YOUR SIGNATURE!\u201d
\nGuests began backing away from him.
\nGraham set his glass down.
\n\u201cFiona, you’re emotional. Give me the document.\u201d
\n\u201cDon’t touch it.\u201d
\nThose words didn’t come from Fiona.
\nThey came from Darcy.
\nShe stepped between them.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cThat document may become relevant evidence. I strongly recommend nobody destroy, alter, or remove it.\u201d
\nGraham stared at her.
\n\u201cAnd who exactly are you?\u201d
\n\u201cSomeone who reads before she signs things.\u201d
\nA few guests exchanged looks.
\nGraham’s jaw tightened.
\nDarcy didn’t blink.
\nI almost smiled.
\nThen Fiona looked back at the page.
\n\u201cWhat is Lakefront Meridian Holdings?\u201d
\nSilence.
\n\u201cWhat did you and Julian do?\u201d
\nJulian stood several feet away with one officer beside him.
\nHis arrogance had vanished.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The man who had dragged me by my hair minutes earlier now looked like someone watching the walls close in.
\n\u201cMom, don’t listen to her.\u201d
\nFiona snapped toward him.
\n\u201cThen explain it!\u201d
\n\u201cIt’s complicated.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nShe slapped the document against his chest.
\n\u201cExplain it to me like I’m five.\u201d
\nJulian swallowed.
\nGraham finally stepped forward.
\n\u201cFiona, this isn’t the place.\u201d
\nShe laughed.
\nIt was a strange, broken laugh.
\n\u201cNot the place?\u201d
\nShe gestured around the room.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is my birthday party!\u201d
\nHer voice cracked.
\n\u201cMy family is here. My friends are here. My son is apparently stealing from his wife, and now I’m holding documents with my brother’s signature saying he’s coming after my money too!\u201d
\nGraham’s eyes darted toward the door.
\nDarcy noticed.
\nSo did I.
\nNobody stopped him.
\nBut he didn’t leave.
\nInstead, he turned toward Julian.
\nAnd something passed between them.
\nA look.
\nQuick.
\nSilent.
\nBut unmistakable.
\nFear.
\nDarcy leaned toward me.
\n\u201cThere.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cThat look.\u201d
\nShe lowered her voice.
\n\u201cThey’re not afraid of the document.\u201d
\nMy stomach tightened.
\n\u201cThey’re afraid of each other.\u201d
\nBefore I could respond, Fiona started reading aloud.
\n\u201cTransfer of controlling interest upon execution of durable financial authority\u2026\u201d
\nHer forehead wrinkled.
\n\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d
\nDarcy answered carefully.
\n\u201cIt appears to be part of a structure intended to shift control of certain assets under specified conditions. But we’d need the complete executed documents and financial records before drawing conclusions.\u201d
\nFiona looked at Julian.
\n\u201cWhat conditions?\u201d
\nJulian stared at the floor.
\n\u201cMom\u2014\u201d
\n\u201cWhat conditions?\u201d
\nGraham stepped closer.
\n\u201cFiona, stop.\u201d
\nShe turned on him.
\n\u201cDon’t you dare tell me to stop.\u201d
\nGraham lowered his voice.
\n\u201cYou don’t understand what you’re reading.\u201d
\n\u201cThen help me understand!\u201d
\nHe said nothing.
\nFiona looked down again.
\nThen she reached the section Darcy had highlighted.
\nHer lips moved silently.
\nSuddenly, she stopped.
\nHer face drained of color.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nI watched her read the paragraph again.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d Julian asked.
\nFiona looked at him.
\n\u201cYou had me declared financially incompetent?\u201d
\nThe room exploded into whispers.
\nJulian shook his head.
\n\u201cNo. That’s not what it says.\u201d
\n\u201cIt says there are preparations for a petition concerning my capacity!\u201d
\n\u201cIt was precautionary.\u201d
\n\u201cPrecautionary?\u201d
\n\u201cYou’ve been forgetting things.\u201d
\nFiona stared at him.
\n\u201cI forgot my reading glasses twice.\u201d
\n\u201cYou’ve forgotten appointments.\u201d
\n\u201cEveryone forgets appointments!\u201d
\nGraham stepped in.
\n\u201cFiona, you’re sixty now.\u201d
\nHer eyes nearly bulged.
\n\u201cI’m SIXTY, not dead!\u201d
\nNobody spoke.
\nThen Fiona did something I never expected.
\nShe looked at me.
\nReally looked at me.
\nFor years, that woman had treated me like dirt beneath her designer shoes.
\nBut right then, for the first time, I saw something other than contempt in her face.
\nFear.
\n\u201cHow much?\u201d
\nI didn’t understand.
\n\u201cHow much what?\u201d
\n\u201cHow much were they planning to take?\u201d
\nDarcy answered instead.
\n\u201cWe don’t know yet.\u201d
\nFiona looked toward Celeste.
\nThe woman in the red dress had gone completely still.
\n\u201cAnd you?\u201d
\nCeleste shook her head.
\n\u201cFiona\u2014\u201d
\n\u201cYou knew.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cYou knew!\u201d
\n\u201cI knew about the company.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\nCeleste looked at Julian.
\nThat was enough.
\nFiona’s mouth opened.
\nThen slowly closed.
\nShe looked between them.
\n\u201cAre you sleeping with my son?\u201d
\nNobody breathed.
\nCeleste’s eyes filled with tears.
\nJulian muttered, \u201cMom, don’t.\u201d
\nFiona staggered backward as though he’d confessed.
\n\u201cOh my God.\u201d
\n\u201cIt’s not what you think.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat exactly should I think?\u201d
\n\u201cIt ended months ago.\u201d
\nCeleste laughed bitterly.
\n\u201cNo, it didn’t.\u201d
\nJulian’s head snapped toward her.
\n\u201cShut up.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nFor the first time, Celeste’s fear seemed to transform into anger.
\n\u201cYou don’t get to tell everyone to shut up anymore.\u201d
\n\u201cCeleste.\u201d
\n\u201cYou promised me.\u201d
\nJulian took a step toward her.
\nThe officer immediately moved between them.
\n\u201cStay where you are, sir.\u201d
\nCeleste wiped her eyes.
\n\u201cYou promised we’d be together after the divorce.\u201d
\nI felt nothing.
\nThat surprised me.
\nFive years earlier, those words would have destroyed me.
\nThree years earlier, they would have broken something inside me.
\nEven yesterday, perhaps they would have hurt.
\nBut now?
\nThey sounded like confirmation of a decision I’d already made.
\nFiona, however, looked devastated.
\n\u201cYou were going to divorce Sloan?\u201d
\nJulian stared at her.
\n\u201cYou hate Sloan.\u201d
\n\u201cI didn’t ask whether I liked her!\u201d
\nFiona pointed toward me.
\n\u201cThat woman paid for this home! She paid your bills! She paid for half the ridiculous things I demanded because YOU kept telling me she didn’t mind!\u201d
\nThat hit me harder than I expected.
\nI looked at Fiona.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\nHer face changed.
\nJulian whispered, \u201cMom.\u201d
\nFiona ignored him.
\nShe looked directly at me.
\n\u201cThe vacations.\u201d
\nMy stomach tightened.
\n\u201cWhat about them?\u201d
\n\u201cJulian told me you wanted to pay.\u201d
\nI stared at him.
\nFiona continued.
\n\u201cThe jewelry. The spa membership. The car.\u201d
\nEach word came slower.
\n\u201cHe said they were gifts from both of you.\u201d
\nMy hands went cold.
\n\u201cYou never knew?\u201d
\nHer eyes filled.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nFor five years, I had believed Fiona knowingly drained me.
\nAnd she had certainly treated me terribly.
\nNothing erased that.
\nNothing excused the insults, the entitlement, or the sixty-dish demand.
\nBut suddenly I understood something darker.
\nJulian hadn’t simply manipulated me.
\nHe’d been feeding both sides different stories.
\nTo me, Fiona was an insatiable parasite.
\nTo Fiona, I was the wealthy daughter-in-law happily financing the family.
\nHe had made sure we hated each other.
\nBecause people who hate each other don’t compare notes.
\nDarcy whispered beside me, \u201cClassic isolation.\u201d
\nI looked at Julian.
\n\u201cHow much did you tell her I earned?\u201d
\nHe didn’t answer.
\n\u201cJulian.\u201d
\n\u201cEnough.\u201d
\n\u201cHow much?\u201d
\nFiona answered.
\n\u201cHe told me you made almost seven hundred thousand dollars a year.\u201d
\nI actually laughed.
\n\u201cI’ve never made even half that.\u201d
\nFiona stared.
\nThen she looked toward the apartment around us.
\nThe flowers.
\nThe catering.
\nThe dress.
\nThe champagne.
\nHer birthday extravaganza.
\n\u201cHow much do you make?\u201d
\n\u201cLast year? Around two hundred and forty thousand before taxes.\u201d
\nFiona sat down.
\n\u201cOh God.\u201d
\nThe anger drained from her face.
\nFor the first time, she looked sixty.
\nMaybe older.
\n\u201cI thought\u2026\u201d
\nHer voice broke.
\n\u201cI thought this was nothing to you.\u201d
\nI wanted to tell her that didn’t excuse how she’d treated me.
\nAnd eventually, I would.
\nBut this wasn’t the moment.
\nBecause Darcy’s phone suddenly vibrated.
\nShe checked the screen.
\nHer expression changed.
\n\u201cExcuse me.\u201d
\nShe stepped toward the hallway.
\nI watched her answer.
\n\u201cDarcy Miles.\u201d
\nPause.
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nAnother pause.
\nHer eyes moved toward Julian.
\nThen Graham.
\nHer face became unreadable.
\n\u201cWhen?\u201d
\nShe listened.
\n\u201cSend everything immediately.\u201d
\nShe hung up.
\nI walked toward her.
\n\u201cWhat happened?\u201d
\n\u201cRemember the forensic accountant?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cHe found another account.\u201d
\nMy stomach dropped.
\n\u201cHow much?\u201d
\n\u201cNot much.\u201d
\nI frowned.
\n\u201cThen why do you look like that?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause of where the deposits came from.\u201d
\nBefore she could explain, Graham suddenly moved.
\nHe didn’t run.
\nRunning would have attracted attention.
\nInstead, he casually picked up his coat and started toward the front door.
\nFiona noticed.
\n\u201cWhere are you going?\u201d
\n\u201cI’ve had enough of this circus.\u201d
\nDarcy turned.
\n\u201cMr. Vale?\u201d
\nHe stopped.
\n\u201cBefore you leave, perhaps you should know that we’ve just identified another account connected to Lakefront Meridian.\u201d
\nGraham’s shoulders stiffened.
\nJulian closed his eyes.
\nThere it was again.
\nThat fear.
\nDarcy looked at both men.
\n\u201cThe account received eleven deposits over eighteen months.\u201d
\nGraham said nothing.
\n\u201cEvery deposit was under ten thousand dollars.\u201d
\nStill nothing.
\n\u201cBut the originating entities are interesting.\u201d
\nJulian spoke quickly.
\n\u201cThis has nothing to do with Sloan.\u201d
\nDarcy’s eyebrows lifted.
\n\u201cI didn’t say it did.\u201d
\nJulian realized his mistake immediately.
\nFiona stood.
\n\u201cWhat account?\u201d
\nDarcy didn’t answer her.
\nShe looked at me.
\n\u201cWe need to talk privately.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nI looked around the room.
\n\u201cThey’ve hidden enough.\u201d
\n\u201cSloan.\u201d
\n\u201cI want to know.\u201d
\nDarcy hesitated.
\nThen she handed me her phone.
\nA message from her forensic accountant was open.
\nThere were eleven transactions.
\nI read the sender names.
\nMost meant nothing to me.
\nThen I reached the ninth.
\nMy heart stopped.
\nI knew that name.
\nNot a person.
\nA company.
\nHarlow Restoration Group.
\nThe company my late father had founded thirty-eight years earlier.
\nThe company he’d sold before his death.
\nI looked at Darcy.
\n\u201cThat isn’t possible.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\n\u201cMy father sold Harlow Restoration six years ago.\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cHe died four years ago.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\n\u201cThen why was his old company sending money into an account connected to Julian last year?\u201d
\nNobody answered.
\nI looked toward Julian.
\nHis face told me he knew exactly why.
\n\u201cWhat did you do?\u201d
\nHe shook his head.
\n\u201cNothing.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat did you do?\u201d
\n\u201cSloan, this is getting ridiculous.\u201d
\nI walked toward him.
\n\u201cMy dead father’s company sent money into your hidden account.\u201d
\n\u201cIt wasn’t my account.\u201d
\n\u201cThen whose was it?\u201d
\nHe looked at Graham.
\nGraham immediately said, \u201cDon’t.\u201d
\nThat one word changed everything.
\nI turned toward Graham.
\n\u201cWhat do you know about my father?\u201d
\n\u201cNothing.\u201d
\n\u201cYou knew him?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cThat’s a lie.\u201d
\nGraham’s face tightened.
\nDarcy stepped beside me.
\n\u201cHow do you know?\u201d I whispered.
\nShe turned her phone around.
\nHer accountant had sent another attachment.
\nAn old photograph.
\nMy father stood outside a downtown restaurant.
\nBeside him was Graham.
\nThe date stamped beneath the image was seven years ago.
\nA year before my father’s company was sold.
\nI stared at Graham.
\n\u201cYou knew my father.\u201d
\nHe said nothing.
\n\u201cYOU KNEW HIM.\u201d
\nFiona looked utterly bewildered.
\n\u201cGraham?\u201d
\nHe finally exhaled.
\n\u201cIt was business.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat business?\u201d
\n\u201cYour father wanted to sell his company.\u201d
\n\u201cSo?\u201d
\n\u201cI knew potential buyers.\u201d
\n\u201cThat’s all?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nDarcy shook her head.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nEveryone looked at her.
\n\u201cThe buyer wasn’t independent.\u201d
\nGraham went still.
\nDarcy opened another document.
\n\u201cHarlow Restoration was purchased through an acquisition vehicle called North Shore Capital Partners.\u201d
\nI remembered the name.
\nMy father had talked about them endlessly during the sale.
\nHe believed he’d found the perfect buyer.
\nDarcy continued.
\n\u201cNorth Shore Capital Partners was dissolved fourteen months after the acquisition.\u201d
\nShe looked toward Graham.
\n\u201cBut we’ve traced one of its beneficial ownership chains.\u201d
\nJulian suddenly shouted.
\n\u201cSTOP TALKING!\u201d
\nThe officers moved instantly.
\nOne grabbed his arm.
\n\u201cSir, calm down.\u201d
\nBut Julian wasn’t looking at Darcy.
\nHe was looking at Graham.
\n\u201cYou said that was buried!\u201d
\nGraham’s face turned white.
\nNobody moved.
\nDarcy slowly lowered the document.
\n\u201cInteresting choice of words.\u201d
\nGraham stared at Julian with pure fury.
\n\u201cYou idiot.\u201d
\nJulian realized what he’d done.
\nFiona whispered, \u201cBuried?\u201d
\nI couldn’t breathe.
\nDarcy looked at me.
\n\u201cSloan, we don’t have enough information yet to say exactly what happened. We need records.\u201d
\nBut I was already putting pieces together.
\nMy father’s company.
\nThe suspicious buyer.
\nGraham.
\nHidden accounts.
\nJulian.
\nMoney moving years later.
\nI remembered my father’s final year.
\nHow frustrated he’d been.
\nHow he’d once told me something about the sale didn’t feel right.
\nAt the time, I’d assumed it was simply regret.
\nThen I remembered something else.
\nThree weeks before my father died, he called me.
\nJulian had been sitting beside me.
\nDad asked to speak privately.
\nI laughed.
\n\u201cDad, Julian’s my husband. Whatever you need to say, he can hear.\u201d
\nThere had been a long silence.
\nThen Dad said five words I’d forgotten until that exact moment.
\n\u201cBe careful who you trust.\u201d
\nMy knees weakened.
\nDarcy caught my elbow.
\n\u201cSloan?\u201d
\nI stared at my husband.
\n\u201cDid you know?\u201d
\n\u201cKnow what?\u201d
\n\u201cThat my father suspected something.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cYou’re lying.\u201d
\n\u201cYou’re insane.\u201d
\n\u201cDid you know?\u201d
\nHe looked away.
\nThat was enough.
\nI walked toward the dining table.
\nThe sixty-dish feast Fiona had demanded never existed.
\nInstead, documents covered every inch.
\nSeventeen metaphorical dishes.
\nSeventeen revelations.
\nAnd somehow each one tasted worse than the last.
\nDarcy’s phone rang again.
\nShe answered.
\nThis time she barely spoke.
\n\u201cSend it.\u201d
\nHer phone chimed.
\nAn email arrived.
\nShe opened the attachment.
\nThen looked at me.
\n\u201cSloan.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat now?\u201d
\n\u201cYou need to see this.\u201d
\nShe handed me the phone.
\nIt was a scanned letter.
\nOld.
\nCreased.
\nWritten in my father’s handwriting.
\nMy throat closed.
\n\u201cWhere did this come from?\u201d
\n\u201cThe accountant found it attached to archived corporate correspondence obtained through the records we were reviewing.\u201d
\nI read the first line.
\nDear Sloan,
\nIf you’re reading this, then I wasn’t able to tell you myself.
\nMy vision blurred.
\nI covered my mouth.
\nJulian moved backward.
\nOne step.
\nThen another.
\nDarcy noticed.
\n\u201cJulian?\u201d
\nHe stopped.
\nI kept reading.
\nThe letter wasn’t sentimental.
\nIt was a warning.
\nMy father wrote that months after selling his company, he discovered irregularities in the acquisition.
\nHe believed the buyers had concealed relationships.
\nHe believed someone close to our family had supplied private information that affected the transaction.
\nAnd he had begun collecting proof.
\nThen I reached the final paragraph.
\nIf anything happens before I finish this, there is one person you must not trust.
\nMy hands started shaking.
\nThe name beneath that sentence had been blacked out.
\n\u201cWhat happened to it?\u201d
\nDarcy took the phone.
\n\u201cThe scan was redacted.\u201d
\n\u201cBy whom?\u201d
\n\u201cWe don’t know.\u201d
\nGraham suddenly smiled.
\nIt was the first time he’d smiled since Darcy entered the apartment.
\nAnd I hated that smile.
\n\u201cThen you’ve got nothing.\u201d
\nDarcy looked at him.
\n\u201cMaybe.\u201d
\nGraham picked up his coat again.
\n\u201cBut fortunately, accountants keep backups.\u201d
\nHis smile disappeared.
\nDarcy’s phone chimed.
\nAnother attachment.
\nShe opened it.
\nThis time, she didn’t hand it to me.
\nShe simply stared.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d I demanded.
\nHer eyes slowly lifted toward Julian.
\nNot Graham.
\nJulian.
\nI felt the room tilt.
\n\u201cDarcy.\u201d
\nShe swallowed.
\n\u201cThe unredacted copy.\u201d
\n\u201cGive it to me.\u201d
\n\u201cSloan\u2014\u201d
\n\u201cGive me the phone.\u201d
\nShe did.
\nI scrolled to the final paragraph.
\nIf anything happens before I finish this, there is one person you must not trust.
\nThen came the name.
\nJulian Mercer.
\nMy husband.
\nThe man I had married eight months before my father’s death.
\nThe man who had stood beside me at the funeral.
\nThe man who had held my hand while my father’s coffin was lowered into the ground.
\nThe man who had whispered, \u201cI’ll take care of you now.\u201d
\nMy fingers went numb.
\nI looked at Julian.
\nHe wasn’t angry anymore.
\nHe wasn’t arrogant.
\nHe was terrified.
\n\u201cYou knew my father was investigating you.\u201d
\nHe shook his head.
\n\u201cSloan, listen.\u201d
\n\u201cYou knew.\u201d
\n\u201cThat letter proves nothing.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat did you do?\u201d
\n\u201cNothing.\u201d
\n\u201cWHAT DID YOU DO?\u201d
\nThe entire room seemed to disappear around us.
\nJulian looked toward the officers.
\nThen Darcy.
\nThen Graham.
\nAnd finally me.
\n\u201cI didn’t hurt your father.\u201d
\nNobody had accused him of hurting my father.
\nNot once.
\nI stopped breathing.
\nDarcy’s head snapped toward him.
\nFiona whispered, \u201cJulian\u2026\u201d
\nHe realized it.
\nToo late.
\nI walked toward him.
\nSlowly.
\n\u201cWhat did you just say?\u201d
\n\u201cI said I didn’t\u2014\u201d
\n\u201cI heard you.\u201d
\n\u201cSloan.\u201d
\n\u201cMy father died from what doctors believed was a heart attack.\u201d
\nJulian’s lips parted.
\nI stepped closer.
\n\u201cNobody in this room said you hurt him.\u201d
\nSilence.
\n\u201cWhy did you?\u201d
\nJulian’s eyes flicked toward Graham.
\nGraham immediately backed toward the door.
\nAnd then Fiona screamed.
\n\u201cOH MY GOD!\u201d
\nEveryone turned.
\nShe was staring at the floor.
\nAt the papers Julian had thrown from the table earlier.
\nOne document had landed beneath the birthday cake stand.
\nFiona bent down and picked it up.
\nIt wasn’t from Darcy’s folders.
\nIt had fallen from Graham’s coat pocket.
\nGraham lunged forward.
\n\u201cGive me that!\u201d
\nOne of the officers stepped between them.
\n\u201cStay back.\u201d
\nFiona unfolded the paper.
\nHer eyes widened.
\n\u201cWhat’s this?\u201d
\nGraham’s face had turned gray.
\nDarcy took the page.
\nRead it.
\nThen looked at me.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\nShe didn’t answer.
\n\u201cDARCY.\u201d
\nShe handed it over.
\nIt was a laboratory report.
\nSeven years old.
\nMy father’s name appeared at the top.
\nBelow it were several medical terms I didn’t understand.
\nBut one line had been circled.
\nTOXICOLOGY SCREENING \u2014 FOLLOW-UP REQUESTED.
\nI looked at Graham.
\n\u201cWhy do you have this?\u201d
\nHe said nothing.
\n\u201cWHY DO YOU HAVE MY FATHER’S MEDICAL RECORD?\u201d
\nThen the elevator chimed.
\nEveryone turned.
\nA woman stepped into the apartment.
\nLate sixties.
\nGray hair.
\nLong brown coat.
\nShe froze when she saw the police officers.
\nThen her eyes found me.
\n\u201cSloan Harlow?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nShe pressed a hand against her mouth.
\n\u201cMy God.\u201d
\n\u201cWho are you?\u201d
\nHer eyes filled with tears.
\n\u201cMy name is Dr. Evelyn Cross.\u201d
\nJulian went completely white.
\nI noticed.
\nSo did Darcy.
\nThe woman looked toward him.
\nAnd whatever fear had been in her face turned into disgust.
\n\u201cYou.\u201d
\nJulian whispered, \u201cYou shouldn’t be here.\u201d
\nDr. Cross walked straight toward me.
\n\u201cI was your father’s physician.\u201d
\nMy heart slammed against my ribs.
\n\u201cYou treated him?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cThen why are you here?\u201d
\nShe opened her handbag.
\nAnd pulled out a sealed envelope.
\n\u201cBecause your father gave me something shortly before he died.\u201d
\nJulian suddenly moved.
\nThe officers grabbed him.
\n\u201cNo!\u201d he shouted.
\nEveryone recoiled.
\n\u201cGET THAT AWAY FROM HER!\u201d
\nDarcy stepped in front of me.
\nJulian struggled against the officers.
\n\u201cSLOAN, DON’T OPEN IT!\u201d
\nI stared at him.
\nFive years of fear disappeared in that instant.
\nI took the envelope.
\nMy father’s handwriting was across the front.
\nFOR SLOAN ONLY.
\nIF I DIE BEFORE I CAN EXPLAIN.
\nMy hands shook as I tore the seal.
\nInside was a handwritten note.
\nAnd a small black flash drive.
\nDr. Cross whispered, \u201cYour father made me promise that if anyone ever started asking questions about the sale of his company, I would give you that.\u201d
\nI looked at Julian.
\nHe had stopped struggling.
\nHe simply stared at the flash drive.
\nTerrified.
\nDarcy pulled a laptop from her briefcase.
\nWe inserted the drive.
\nOne folder appeared.
\nEVIDENCE.
\nInside were photographs.
\nContracts.
\nBank records.
\nEmails.
\nAnd one video file.
\nThe date on the video was three days before my father’s death.
\nI clicked it.
\nMy father’s face appeared on the screen.
\nHe looked exhausted.
\nFrightened.
\nBut completely lucid.
\n\u201cIf Sloan is watching this,\u201d he began, \u201cthen something has happened to me.\u201d
\nMy knees almost gave way.
\nDad looked directly into the camera.
\n\u201cI discovered who manipulated the sale of my company.\u201d
\nJulian whispered, \u201cTurn it off.\u201d
\nNobody moved.
\nMy father continued.
\n\u201cAnd I discovered why.\u201d
\nThe video froze.
\nBuffering.
\nFor three unbearable seconds, nobody breathed.
\nThen the picture returned.
\nMy father leaned closer to the camera.
\n\u201cThe person behind it is\u2014\u201d
\nA loud crash exploded behind me.
\nI spun around.
\nGraham had knocked over the champagne tower and bolted toward the stairwell.
\nOne officer chased him.
\nThe second stayed with Julian.
\nFiona screamed after her brother.
\nBut I barely heard her.
\nBecause when I turned back toward the laptop, the video had continued playing.
\nAnd Darcy was staring at the screen with horror.
\n\u201cWhat did he say?\u201d I demanded.
\nShe didn’t answer.
\n\u201cDarcy!\u201d
\nShe slowly turned toward me.
\n\u201cSloan\u2026 your father wasn’t investigating one person.\u201d
\nMy stomach dropped.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cHe was investigating three.\u201d
\nShe replayed the final seconds.
\nMy father’s voice filled the destroyed birthday party.
\n\u201cGraham Vale helped arrange the acquisition. Julian Mercer supplied information from inside my family.\u201d
\nThen Dad paused.
\n\u201cBut neither of them is the person I’m most afraid of.\u201d
\nFiona grabbed the edge of the table.
\nJulian closed his eyes.
\nMy father continued.
\n\u201cThe third person is the one controlling them both.\u201d
\nThe video crackled.
\nThen my father said something that made every hair on my body stand up.
\n\u201cAnd Sloan knows this person.\u201d
\nI stared at the screen.
\nDad leaned toward the camera.
\n\u201cIf I’m dead, don’t trust anyone until you find the blue ledger.\u201d
\nThe video ended.
\nBlack screen.
\nFiona whispered, \u201cWhat blue ledger?\u201d
\nI didn’t answer.
\nBecause I knew exactly what he meant.
\nMy father had kept a blue leather bookkeeping journal in his home office for nearly thirty years.
\nAfter his funeral, I’d searched everywhere for it.
\nIt was gone.
\nI had assumed it had been discarded.
\nUntil that moment.
\nMy phone suddenly vibrated.
\nUnknown number.
\nA photograph arrived.
\nI opened it.
\nMy blood turned cold.
\nIt was the blue ledger.
\nSitting on someone’s lap.
\nTaken less than a minute ago.
\nThen a message appeared beneath it.
\nYOU WANT DISH NUMBER 60?
\nCOME GET IT.
\nALONE.
\nAnother message arrived.
\nAn address.
\nI recognized it instantly.
\nMy father’s old house.
\nThe house that had been empty for four years.
\nDarcy looked over my shoulder.
\n\u201cSloan, you’re not going.\u201d
\nThen a third message appeared.
\nAnd this one made me stop breathing.
\nIt was another photograph.
\nTaken inside my father’s old study.
\nThe blue ledger sat on the desk.
\nBeside it was a framed photograph of my father and me.
\nAnd reflected faintly in the glass behind the photograph was the person holding the phone.
\nI zoomed in.
\nMy knees nearly collapsed.
\nBecause I recognized the face.
\nAnd suddenly I understood why my father had written that I knew the third person.
\nI had known them almost my entire life.
\nI looked toward Darcy.
\nShe saw my expression.
\n\u201cWho is it?\u201d
\nI couldn’t answer.
\nBecause the person waiting inside my father’s house wasn’t Julian.
\nIt wasn’t Graham.
\nIt wasn’t Celeste.
\nAnd it wasn’t Fiona.
\nIt was someone I had trusted since I was a child.
\nSomeone who had hugged me at my father’s funeral while I sobbed against their shoulder.
\nSomeone who had known about my inheritance, my marriage, and every weakness in my family long before Julian ever entered my life.
\nMy phone vibrated one final time.
\nMIDNIGHT.
\nNO POLICE.
\nNO LAWYERS.
\nBRING JULIAN.
\nTHEN I’LL TELL YOU WHAT REALLY HAPPENED TO YOUR FATHER.
\nI slowly lifted my eyes toward my husband.
\nFor the first time, Julian wasn’t looking at me with hatred.
\nHe was looking at me with terror.
\nAnd when I showed him the photograph, he whispered a name.
\nA name I had never expected to hear.
\nThen he said seven words that changed everything.
\n\u201cSloan\u2026 that person was supposed to be dead.\u201d
\nTO BE CONTINUED IN PART 5 \u2014 THE FINAL DISH……………….<\/p>\n
PART 4 \u2014 THE NAME ON THE FINAL PAGE Fiona’s hand began to shake. Not a little. Violently. The paper rattled between her fingers as every person in the room … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":5199,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6660","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6660","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6660"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6660\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6665,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6660\/revisions\/6665"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/5199"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6660"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6660"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/echostoryus.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6660"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}