Chapter 8 - The Secret Beneath Henderson House
Angela decided she disliked Claire Whitmore before Claire finished removing her coat.
It was unfair.
She disliked her anyway.
Claire was beautiful in the effortless way wealthy people sometimes seemed professionally trained to be.
Charlie said, “Explain.”
Claire placed the folder down.
“My name was inserted into the trust paperwork six months ago.”
“By whom?”
“Grant.”
Charlie cursed.
Claire looked at Angela.
“I wasn't trying to marry him.”
Angela replied, “That's reassuring.”
Claire almost smiled.
“Charlie and I ended our engagement two years ago.”
“Why?”
Charlie and Claire answered simultaneously.
“We wanted different lives.”
Angela looked between them.
Claire laughed.
“That part is true.”
Grant had planned to use Claire as a temporary bride.
After ninety days, she would reject the marriage.
The voting shares would return to Henderson Global.
Grant would then exercise proxy agreements and take control.
“But Angela's appearance ruined it,” Claire said.
Angela folded her arms.
“I didn't exactly appear voluntarily.”
“No. Martin found you first.”
Eleanor paced.
“Then Grant must have learned Martin had located Angela.”
Charlie understood.
“So Grant changed Martin's instructions.”
Claire nodded.
“He made Martin believe Helena wanted a real ceremony.”
Angela said, “Why would Martin cooperate?”
“Debt.”
Daniel answered from the doorway.
He had arrived from the hospital.
“Martin owes Grant eleven million dollars.”
Everyone stared.
Daniel continued.
“Bad investments. Gambling. Private loans.”
Angela remembered Martin's confession.
The money wasn't the payment.
The marriage was the key.
“Grant needed the trust activated,” she said.
Charlie nodded slowly.
“And then?”
Claire opened the folder.
“A morality clause.”
Angela nearly laughed.
“Of course there's another clause.”
If either spouse committed documented fraud during the first ninety days, the shares reverted.
Grant planned to prove Charlie had knowingly tricked Angela.
“But he didn't,” Angela said.
Claire looked at her.
“Can you prove that?”
Silence.
Angela thought of the altar.
Say yes.
Charlie had known it was legal.
She hadn't.
From the outside, it looked terrible.
Charlie said, “I'll resign before I let him use Angela.”
Angela turned.
“No.”
“Angela.”
“You didn't do this.”
“I still participated.”
“You believed I understood.”
“Yes.”
“Then stop deciding what happens for me.”
Charlie went quiet.
That night, Angela couldn't sleep.
She wandered downstairs.
Charlie sat alone in the kitchen eating cereal.
She stared.
“You own three wings and eat cereal at midnight?”
“My chef leaves at ten.”
“Tragic.”
He offered her a bowl.
She sat.
For ten minutes, they discussed nothing important.
Her acting jobs.
His terrible college haircut.
Her mother's obsession with discount coupons.
His inability to cook eggs.
It was the first conversation they had that wasn't about death, trusts or fraudulent marriage.
Angela finally said, “Why Claire?”
Charlie looked at his cereal.
“She understood my world.”
“And that wasn't enough?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“We were excellent on paper.”
Angela smiled faintly.
“Paper has caused enough problems this week.”
He looked at her.
Then his expression softened.
“I wanted someone who could surprise me.”
Angela's heart did something inconvenient.
“So you married an unemployed actress accidentally.”
“Extremely surprising.”
She laughed.
The sound startled both of them.
Charlie grew serious.
“I'm sorry.”
“For what?”
“The altar. I should have stopped everything when you looked confused.”
“Yes.”
“I was thinking about the company.”
“I know.”
“That isn't an excuse.”
“No.”
He met her eyes.
“I will never ask you to stay married to me for the company.”
Angela believed him.
That frightened her more than suspicion had.
A noise came from beneath the floor.
Charlie stood.
“What was that?”
Another sound.
Metal scraping.
They followed it to the library.
The archive door stood open.
Angela was certain they had locked it.
Inside, papers had been disturbed.
The blue ledger was gone.
Charlie reached for his phone.
Angela noticed something on the floor.
A broken bracelet.
Claire had worn it earlier.
Charlie stared.
“Stay here.”
They followed muddy footprints through a service corridor.
The trail ended at a hidden staircase descending below the archive.
Angela switched on her phone flashlight.
“Apparently your house has a basement under its secret basement.”
“My childhood suddenly feels dishonest.”
They descended.
At the bottom was a steel door.
From behind it came a woman's muffled voice.
“Help!”
Claire.
Charlie grabbed the handle.
Locked.
Angela found an old emergency release.
Together they forced it.
Claire was inside.
Her wrists were tied.
Her mouth taped.
Charlie freed her.
“Who did this?”
Claire tore off the tape.
“Grant.”
Angela's stomach dropped.
“Where is he?”
Claire looked behind them.
“He wasn't alone.”
A light appeared at the top of the stairs.
Footsteps descended.
Slowly.
Someone stopped outside the room.
Charlie pushed Angela behind him.
The door handle began turning.
Claire whispered, “That's not Grant.”
The door opened.
May you like
Susan Parker stood on the other side.
And she was holding the missing blue ledger.
