Chapter 2 - The Woman in the Black CarI stood at the end of the Whitmore driveway staring at the unknown number.
My thumb hovered over the screen.
I typed:
Who is this?
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Returned.
Then the reply came.
Look across the street.
I slowly raised my eyes.
A black sedan was parked beneath a maple tree.
I had not noticed it before.
The driver’s window lowered.
A woman in dark sunglasses looked directly at me.
Then she lifted one hand.
Not waving.
Warning me.
Behind me, Julian shouted again.
“Elena!”
I turned.
He was walking toward me.
His expression had changed.
There was no anger now.
Only calculation.
That scared me more.
“I want my wife back,” he said.
I almost laughed.
“Your wife?”
He stopped several feet away.
“You’re upset. I understand.”
“No.”
“You misunderstood this morning.”
“No, Julian.”
I looked directly at him.
“I understood perfectly.”
Victoria appeared behind him.
“You are being dramatic,” she said. “Families have arguments.”
“Throwing filthy towels is not an argument.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
“You embarrassed me.”
I stared at him.
“Yesterday you called me your soulmate.”
“And today you’re acting like a spoiled child.”
The words landed like stones.
I turned toward the black sedan.
The woman inside honked once.
Julian followed my gaze.
His face changed.
He knew that car.
“Who is that?”
I did not answer.
He grabbed my wrist.
“Who is she?”
The moment his fingers tightened, I looked down.
Then at him.
“Let go.”
He did not.
I spoke quietly.
“Let go of me.”
Maybe something in my voice frightened him.
He released me.
I walked toward the sedan.
The woman unlocked the passenger door.
“Get in.”
I did.
The second the door shut, the locks clicked.
Julian stood in the driveway.
The car pulled away.
I looked at the woman.
“Who are you?”
She removed her sunglasses.
She was perhaps in her late fifties, with silver-blond hair and sharp gray eyes.
“My name is Catherine.”
“Why are you helping me?”
“Because your father asked me to.”
My breath caught.
“My father?”
She nodded.
“Daniel Grant knew what the Whitmores were planning.”
My father had been dead for eleven months.
I stared at her.
“What were they planning?”
Catherine glanced at the rearview mirror.
“We need somewhere private.”
Twenty minutes later, we stopped at a small hotel on the edge of downtown.
Catherine led me into a private suite.
She placed a folder on the table.
“Your father left this.”
I stared at the seal.
It carried my father’s initials.
My hands trembled as I opened it.
Inside were bank statements.
Property records.
Corporate documents.
And photographs.
Photographs of Julian.
Julian shaking hands with Victoria.
Julian meeting a lawyer.
Julian entering a downtown office building with my father.
I froze.
“He met my father?”
“Several times.”
I turned another page.
A document caught my attention.
It was a valuation report.
A corporation.
Grant Meridian Holdings.
My family’s investment company.
I looked at Catherine.
“What does this have to do with my marriage?”
She sat down.
“Everything.”
She pointed toward the document.
“Your father didn’t leave you $45,000.”
I frowned.
“The cashier’s check was from him.”
“That was spending money.”
She slid another document toward me.
My hands went cold.
The number on the page had nine digits.
“No.”
“Yes.”
I looked up.
“Why?”
“Because your father knew someone might try to marry you for control of your inheritance.”
I shook my head.
“Julian knew?”
Catherine’s eyes hardened.
“Julian didn’t just know.”
She opened the final page.
“He asked for it.”
My stomach twisted.
May you like
Then Catherine said something that made my entire body go numb.
“The wedding was supposed to be the final step.”
