Chapter 7 - Eighteen Million Reasons to Lie
Emma stared at the dead phone.
“Which one?”
The words would not leave her.
Margaret could be captive.
Evelyn could be alive.
Or Victor was lying about both.
Damian ordered men to Margaret’s house.
Empty.
No struggle.
No note.
Emma called repeatedly.
Nothing.
Isabella looked frightened.
“He knows we found the hospital.”
“How?”
Damian turned toward Mateo.
Not accusing.
Thinking.
Mateo understood.
“There’s a leak.”
“Inside my organization.”
Mateo nodded.
Emma returned to the ledger.
“No.”
Damian looked at her.
“What?”
“He wants you thinking like that.”
“Victor?”
“He wants everyone suspicious.”
“He already has a man inside.”
“Probably. But eighteen million dollars is too much effort for revenge.”
Emma turned the laptop.
“These transfers started fourteen months ago.”
“So?”
“Why wait until tonight?”
Damian considered.
“Because something changed.”
“Yes.”
Emma searched corporate filings.
Sterling Foundation had recently approved a merger.
The effective date was tomorrow.
At midnight, its restricted accounts would consolidate.
Including the witness protection fund.
“Victor has until midnight.”
“To do what?”
“Move the remaining money.”
“How much?”
Emma calculated.
Her stomach tightened.
“Eighty-two million.”
Mateo whistled softly.
Damian did not react.
“What does he need?”
“Authorization from two trustees.”
“Who?”
Emma searched.
The first name appeared.
Valerie Sloan.
Isabella.
The second made Emma stop.
Emma Hayes.
“That’s impossible.”
Isabella closed her eyes.
“Evelyn named you.”
“I was a child.”
“The trust activated when you turned thirty-two.”
Emma had turned thirty-two three weeks earlier.
Everything suddenly made sense.
The audit.
Mercer sending her alone.
The ledger.
Victor resurfacing.
“They needed my signature.”
“Yes.”
Damian looked at Emma.
“Have you signed anything tonight?”
“Hundreds of audit confirmations.”
Emma went pale.
Mercer.
He had handed her forms before the gala.
She opened her sent documents.
There.
An electronic authorization.
Buried beneath routine paperwork.
“They have it.”
Isabella whispered, “Then they only need mine.”
A crash came from downstairs.
Damian moved instantly.
Lights died.
Mateo locked the study.
A voice sounded through the house speakers.
Victor.
“Hello, Isabella.”
She froze.
“You always did choose Anthony’s son over me.”
Damian searched the room.
“How did he access the system?”
Mateo looked at the wall controls.
“He didn’t.”
Emma understood.
“He’s here.”
A gunshot sounded downstairs.
Then another.
Damian handed Emma to Mateo.
“Take them through the service exit.”
“No,” Emma said.
He looked at her.
“We don’t have time.”
“You go chasing him, he wins.”
“He is inside my house.”
“Exactly.”
Damian stared.
Emma pointed toward the ledger.
“He wants this.”
She removed several pages.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving him what he came for.”
She placed the ledger on the desk.
Then slipped the critical pages into her dress.
Mateo almost smiled.
“Accountants.”
They escaped through an old wine cellar tunnel.
Behind them, flames appeared in the study windows.
Victor burned the house.
Damian stood outside watching the home his mother had left him disappear.
Emma touched his arm.
He looked at her hand.
She almost removed it.
He covered it with his own.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Isabella’s phone rang.
A text.
A photograph.
Margaret tied to a chair.
Alive.
Beneath it:
MIDNIGHT. STERLING BALLROOM. BOTH TRUSTEES.
Emma checked the time.
10:41 p.m.
Seventy-nine minutes.
Damian looked at her.
“You’re not going.”
“Yes, I am.”
“He’ll kill you.”
“Not until I authorize the transfer.”
“And afterward?”
Emma met his eyes.
“That’s where you come in.”
Damian stared at her for several seconds.
“You trust me?”
“No.”
A faint smile.
“Good.”
“But I trust what you’ve done tonight.”
His smile disappeared.
Emma continued.
“You could have taken the drive. You didn’t. You could have left Mercer to die. You didn’t. You could have ignored those families. You didn’t.”
“That doesn’t make me good.”
“I didn’t say it did.”
“What does it make me?”
“The man standing between Victor and eighty-two million dollars.”
Damian looked at her.
“And between Victor and you.”
Emma’s breath caught.
Neither moved.
Mateo deliberately turned away.
Then Emma’s phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
She opened the message.
A live video appeared.
Margaret sat tied to the ballroom chair.
Behind her stood Paul Mercer.
Not wounded.
Not unconscious.
Standing.
Smiling.
Emma felt sick.
Mercer looked directly into the camera.
Then he said:
“Tell Damian we finally found the traitor.”
Someone stepped into frame beside him.
May you like
Mateo saw the face.
And whispered, “Dad?”
