Chapter 4 - The Family Secret Behind The Missing Money
I stared at the computer screen.
The name was impossible.
Elizabeth Anderson.
My mother.
She had been gone for five years.
I had watched her funeral.
I had held her hand in the hospital during her final moments.
I had listened to doctors explain that there was nothing more they could do.
She was gone.
But now, inside my own mansion, a hidden file had appeared with her name attached to it.
For a few seconds, I couldn't move.
Not because I believed my mother was alive.
But because I knew someone had used her identity.
And that meant someone had been planning this for a long time.
Daniel stood behind me.
Silent.
Too silent.
I turned slowly.
"What is this?"
He didn't answer.
That bothered me more than anything he could have said.
"Daniel."
His eyes moved toward the computer.
Then back to me.
"I think you should open it."
I studied his face.
Five minutes earlier, he had been trying to stop me from looking deeper.
Now he wanted me to see it.
That meant one thing.
He wasn't the person controlling everything.
He was afraid of someone else.
I clicked the file.
The screen loaded slowly.
Inside was a collection of documents.
Old documents.
Some dated years before.
The first file was labeled:
"Household Financial Records."
I opened it.
At first, it looked like normal information.
Employee salaries.
Maintenance costs.
Family expenses.
But then I noticed something.
A pattern.
Every year, money disappeared from certain accounts.
Small amounts.
Amounts that were easy to ignore.
But when added together...
Millions.
I looked at Daniel.
"How long has this been happening?"
He didn't answer.
That was enough.
"How long?"
His jaw tightened.
"Before I came here."
I stared at him.
"Then why are you involved?"
He looked away.
And that was when I understood.
Daniel wasn't just hiding something.
He was protecting something.
"Tell me the truth."
He sighed.
"I didn't start it."
"Who did?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he walked toward the door and locked it.
That action immediately made me suspicious.
"What are you doing?"
"Making sure nobody hears this."
I looked at him.
"After everything tonight, you still think I should trust you?"
His expression changed.
"I think you should listen before you decide who the enemy is."
I said nothing.
Daniel looked at the computer screen.
"The file with your mother's name wasn't created today."
"Then when?"
"Five years ago."
My eyes narrowed.
"The year she died?"
He nodded.
"Your mother knew someone was stealing from the family."
I felt my hands tighten.
"My mother knew?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't she tell me?"
Daniel looked down.
"Because she was trying to protect you."
I almost rejected the answer immediately.
But something stopped me.
Because that sounded exactly like something my mother would do.
She always believed problems should be solved quietly.
She always carried pain alone if it meant protecting someone else.
"What did she find?"
Daniel walked closer.
"She discovered that someone had been moving money through fake employee payments."
My mind returned to Maria's situation.
The fake approval.
The missing salary.
The stolen identity.
"This wasn't just about Maria."
"No."
Daniel looked at me.
"Maria was only one of many."
I stared at the documents.
For years, I thought my company was successful because I made the right decisions.
I thought my family was stable because we had built something strong.
But maybe I had been looking at the wrong things.
Maybe the cracks had always been there.
I opened another file.
Inside was a scanned letter.
The handwriting immediately caught my attention.
My mother's handwriting.
I knew it.
Every birthday card.
Every note she left in my office.
Every handwritten message.
It was hers.
The letter was addressed to me.
My heart started beating faster.
I began reading.
"My son,
If you are reading this, it means I was right to be worried.
There is someone close to this family who has been using our trust against us.
Do not confront them without proof.
They are more dangerous when they feel cornered."
I stopped.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
There was more.
"Trust the people who have nothing to gain from your success.
Be careful of the people who smile when you lose."
I looked up.
Daniel was watching me.
"Who did she suspect?"
He remained silent.
"Daniel."
He looked uncomfortable.
"She never wrote the name."
"Why?"
"Because she was afraid someone would find it."
I looked back at the letter.
My mother had spent her final days knowing someone close to us was betraying the family.
And I had never known.
A sound came from outside the office.
Someone walking.
Daniel immediately looked toward the door.
"Someone is here."
I stood.
"Who?"
He didn't answer.
The door handle moved.
Someone tried to open it.
But it was locked.
A voice came from the hallway.
"Daniel?"
My blood ran cold.
Because I recognized the voice.
It wasn't an employee.
It wasn't a stranger.
It was someone who had no reason to be in my mansion at that hour.
My aunt.
The woman who had helped raise me after my father died.
Daniel quickly moved toward the computer.
"What are you doing?"
He closed the files.
"She can't see this."
I grabbed his arm.
"Why?"
He looked at me.
And for the first time, I saw genuine fear.
"Because she knows about the file."
The handle moved again.
This time harder.
"Daniel, open the door."
My aunt's voice sounded calm.
Too calm.
I looked at Daniel.
"You knew she was involved."
He didn't deny it.
Instead, he whispered:
"Your mother didn't leave this file for you to find the thief."
I stared at him.
"Then why?"
His answer came quietly.
"She left it so you would know who was protecting the thief."
The door suddenly stopped moving.
Silence.
Then my phone vibrated.
A new message appeared.
Unknown number.
One photo.
I opened it.
It was a picture taken inside my office.
Taken only minutes ago.
Someone had been watching us.
The message below had only one sentence.
"Daniel is not the person you should fear."
I looked at the locked door.
Then at Daniel.
Then back at the screen.
May you like
Because behind the door was the person my mother had spent years trying to expose.
And when the lock finally clicked open, the first person I saw standing there was my aunt holding my mother's missing diary.
