Chapter 9 - The Daughter My Father Never Lost
I ran.
Security reached Maisie's room at the same moment.
The door opened.
Maisie was asleep.
Beside her stood Eleanor.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“What are you doing?”
She lifted one finger.
“Listen.”
A faint electronic beep came from beneath the bed.
Security pulled Maisie away.
An officer reached underneath and removed a tracking device.
Eleanor had noticed its blinking light from the hallway.
Someone had planted it earlier.
“Who?” I whispered.
The answer came quickly.
A housekeeper remembered Martin entering the room the previous afternoon.
Martin Shaw was gone.
Again.
We searched his office.
Empty.
His car had left Blackwood forty minutes earlier.
Then Richard received a message.
COME TO THE GREENHOUSE ALONE.
He showed me.
“No.”
“Sloane—”
“No more people deciding what's best for me.”
He almost argued.
Then stopped.
We contacted police.
The greenhouse was surrounded quietly.
Richard and I approached together.
Inside, Vanessa sat tied to a chair.
Martin stood beside her.
Grant was nowhere visible.
“Martin,” Richard said.
Martin looked exhausted.
“You weren't supposed to bring her.”
“I stopped obeying men who make decisions about my life,” I said.
Vanessa looked at me.
“Sloane.”
I moved toward her.
Martin raised a hand.
“Don't.”
He wasn't armed.
He simply looked broken.
“Where is Grant?” I asked.
“I don't know.”
Vanessa shouted, “He's lying.”
Martin closed his eyes.
“Grant said he'd destroy everything.”
“What?”
“My family. My children.”
Richard stared at him.
“You helped him threaten a five-year-old.”
“I never touched Maisie.”
“You gave him access.”
Martin began crying.
“I know.”
Vanessa struggled against the restraints.
“He has the trust documents.”
“Where?”
“He said he was going to burn them.”
Richard frowned.
“They're copies.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“No. Margaret's handwritten amendment.”
My father froze.
“What handwritten amendment?”
Martin looked up.
That reaction was real.
He didn't know either.
Vanessa said Grant had discovered it hidden among my mother's papers.
It changed everything.
“What did it say?”
“I never saw all of it.”
“What did you see?”
“One line.”
She swallowed.
“‘No spouse of my daughter shall ever exercise control over these shares.’”
I almost laughed from relief.
Grant's entire plan had been useless from the beginning.
My mother had protected me.
Even after death.
Then Martin said, “Not useless.”
We turned.
“The amendment had to be authenticated.”
“By whom?”
“Margaret's executor.”
My father went still.
“Who was executor?”
I asked although I already knew from his face.
“Eleanor.”
We returned to the house.
Eleanor was gone.
So was Maisie.
For three seconds, I couldn't understand the words.
Then security showed me footage.
Eleanor walking toward a side exit.
Maisie holding her hand.
No struggle.
No fear.
My daughter trusted her.
A note sat on the hallway table.
Sloane, forgive me. I have to finish what your mother asked me to do.
Underneath was an address.
May you like
And a time.
Midnight.
