Chapter 5 - Twelve RosesWe dug after midnight.
Mr. Vale insisted on bringing a forensic team.
I insisted on being there.
The dead rose stood near the east wall.
The soil beneath it had been disturbed recently.
Less than a foot down, we found a metal box.
No larger than a briefcase.
Locked.
Terrence had designed the lock himself.
A six-digit code.
His birthday didn't work.
Mine didn't.
Our wedding date didn't.
Then I remembered something he had whispered during our first anniversary.
“Always remember the day we almost didn't meet.”
I entered the date.
The box opened.
Inside were documents.
Hard drives.
Photographs.
A passport.
And a single handwritten note.
For Elise, when they decide she has nothing.
My throat tightened.
Mr. Vale opened the first envelope.
A series of property deeds.
The next contained company ownership transfers.
Then came the document that changed everything.
Terrence had quietly purchased shares in three major financial firms through the trust.
He had turned a private inheritance into a portfolio worth more than half a billion dollars.
But that wasn't the real secret.
He had also bought 41 percent of Caldwell Holdings.
Silently.
Through shell companies.
If the documents were valid, the family did not control the company.
Terrence did.
And after his death?
I did.
I sat down in the grass.
“Why didn't he tell me?”
Mr. Vale answered quietly.
“Because telling you would make you a target.”
I opened another folder.
There were surveillance photographs.
Beatrice meeting Victor.
Vanessa meeting Victor.
And one image of Terrence speaking to a man outside a warehouse.
The date was six weeks before his death.
On the man's wrist was a distinctive black watch.
Mr. Vale leaned closer.
“That's Daniel Mercer.”
“Who?”
“Private investigator.”
“What was Terrence doing with him?”
“Apparently investigating his own family.”
The final document was a list of bank accounts.
Red circles marked several.
One belonged to Beatrice.
Another to Vanessa.
Another to Victor.
The amount transferred out over five years was staggering.
$87.4 million.
I looked up.
“That's what they stole.”
“Possibly.”
“From the company?”
“From a subsidiary.”
“What subsidiary?”
Mr. Vale turned the paper.
At the bottom was a company name.
Blue Crest Foundation.
I recognized it.
Terrence had always called it his charity.
He told me it funded children's hospitals.
I turned the page.
There was no money going to hospitals.
There were payments to politicians, private investigators, shell firms, and a mysterious account in Monaco.
One recurring payment appeared every month.
$250,000.
Recipient:
E.C. HOLDINGS.
My initials.
I stared at it.
“I never owned this.”
Mr. Vale nodded.
“I know.”
Someone had created a company using my name.
Someone had been moving money through it.
And if authorities discovered the account before the truth came out, they would think I was the one laundering the money.
Suddenly, a car accelerated down the road.
Headlights flashed over us.
The forensic team turned.
The vehicle swerved.
It struck the outer gate and disappeared into the darkness.
But before it vanished, I saw the driver.
Vanessa.
I opened my mouth.
No sound came out.
Mr. Vale whispered:
“She knows we found the box.”
Then my phone rang.
It was Beatrice.
I answered.
Her voice was strangely calm.
“Come home, Elise.”
“I don't live there anymore.”
“You will.”
“Why?”
May you like
She laughed softly.
“Because the truth about Terrence's death is about to become public.”
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