Chapter 3 - THE BLACKWOOD LEDGERWe left the hospital through the laundry tunnels.
Not the emergency exit.
Not the parking garage.
The laundry tunnels.
The same kind of route used by people who didn't want cameras to see them leave.
By 2:17 a.m., Isabella and I were inside one of my safe locations.
A gray townhouse on the edge of the city.
No name on the mailbox.
No public records connecting it to me.
Three security cameras.
Two reinforced exits.
One room built entirely underground.
Isabella sat on the floor beneath a blanket while I studied the brass key.
She kept watching me.
"You've changed."
"I've been away."
"No."
She shook her head.
"That's not it."
I looked at her.
"You don't move like a businessman."
Neither did she.
She was beginning to understand.
I had spent years preparing for the day someone hurt her.
I just hadn't expected the person to be her husband.
The drive sat on the table.
Encrypted.
Untouched.
The brass key rested beside it.
Then Isabella said something that made me stop.
"Maybe the key isn't for a door."
"What else would it be for?"
"A box."
She remembered our father.
He used to keep a black metal box in his study.
After his funeral, it vanished.
Mother thought it had been destroyed.
I had assumed it was stolen.
But Isabella remembered something I didn't.
Dad always locked it with two keys.
One he kept.
The second went to my mother.
"Where is Mom's key?" I asked.
"She gave it to Jasper."
My stomach tightened.
"When?"
"Six months after Dad died."
"Why?"
"Jasper told her it was worthless."
I stood.
"He's lying."
"I know."
"Do you know where she keeps it?"
Isabella nodded.
"She doesn't."
That stopped me.
"Then where?"
She looked at the black drive.
"Jasper took it."
I stared at the drive for several seconds.
Then I opened my laptop.
The encryption screen appeared.
Three attempts allowed.
I inserted the key.
The system recognized it.
A hidden partition opened.
My heartbeat slowed.
Files appeared.
But not financial documents.
Photographs.
Hundreds of them.
Our father.
Our mother.
Jasper.
Men I didn't recognize.
Buildings.
Ports.
Warehouses.
Political donors.
Private meetings.
And one photograph that made Isabella gasp.
It showed our father standing beside the same man who had visited Jasper.
I zoomed in.
There was another detail.
A date.
Four years after our father's supposed death.
I stared at it.
"That's impossible."
Isabella moved closer.
"Why?"
"Because Dad was already dead."
She touched the screen.
"Then who is that?"
The photograph had been taken at a private harbor.
Our father stood beside a shipping container.
Behind him was the same three-circle symbol.
And in the corner was a handwritten note.
THE BLACKWOOD LEDGER.
I opened the next file.
It contained a list of names.
Banks.
Companies.
Politicians.
Contractors.
Judges.
And one page marked in red.
MONTGOMERY TRUST.
I felt my jaw tighten.
Our family trust.
The account had been inactive for years.
At least publicly.
Then I saw the transaction history.
Millions had moved through it.
Not after Jasper joined the family.
Before.
Long before.
Isabella leaned against the desk.
"So Dad was doing it too."
"I don't know."
"You said the records were real."
"They are."
"Then he knew."
I stared at the dates.
Something didn't fit.
The transactions stopped exactly eleven days before our father's death.
Then resumed two weeks later.
Someone had taken control.
Someone who knew every account.
Every password.
Every legal signature.
Then I saw the final entry.
ACCOUNT AUTHORIZED BY: C.M.
My initials.
C.M.
Caleb Montgomery.
But I had never authorized anything.
I checked the timestamp.
Five years ago.
Three months after I supposedly left the country.
Three months after my father's funeral.
Someone had been using my identity.
Then a new message appeared on the screen.
REMOTE ACCESS DETECTED.
I slammed the laptop shut.
Too late.
The lights in the safe house went red.
An alarm sounded downstairs.
Isabella stood.
"They found us."
"No."
I looked at the screen.
"Someone inside the network found us."
The back door exploded inward.
Three armed men entered.
I shoved Isabella behind a reinforced wall.
"Stay down."
Gunfire tore through the room.
I returned fire from behind the doorway.
One attacker fell.
Another fled.
The third reached the basement.
I chased him.
He vanished through the underground exit.
But he left something behind.
A black leather ledger.
I picked it up.
On the cover was a handwritten name.
Not Jasper.
May you like
Not our father.
Mine.
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