Chapter 9 - The Man in the ReflectionWe traced the filing to a computer terminal in a small private office building.

Margot knew the building.

It was an old law office in downtown Franklin.

We arrived at 6:45 the following morning.

The office was empty.

The receptionist said the attorney was out.

Margot showed her credentials.

The woman became nervous.

"We're here regarding a corporate filing."

She looked at the papers.

"Mr. Holloway was here yesterday."

"Which Holloway?"

"Grant."

"Who else?"

"A man."

"Name?"

"I don't know."

"What did he look like?"

She hesitated.

"Gray hair."

I knew.

Charles Vale had gray hair.

But Charles wasn't following me.

Could he be?

No.

Then a second thought surfaced.

The man in the photograph was thinner.

Younger.

More precise.

Margot found security footage.

A man entered at 4:12 p.m.

We paused the video.

He turned his face.

I recognized him.

It was Todd.

The videographer from the anniversary party.

My stomach dropped.

"Todd?"

Margot nodded.

"Your family didn't hire him only to film the party."

He had been following me.

Photographing me.

Documenting my movements.

We continued watching.

Todd met Grant.

They handed over a folder.

Then Grant gave him something.

A flash drive.

I looked at Margot.

"We need that drive."

"We need to know what's on it."

We tracked Todd's vehicle to a studio outside town.

He wasn't there.

But his assistant was.

Margot showed him a picture.

"He worked for the Holloways."

"Yes."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know."

"When did you last see him?"

"Yesterday afternoon."

"Did he mention Grant?"

The assistant became pale.

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"He said the family needed to finish the project before the closing."

"What project?"

He shook his head.

"I wasn't supposed to ask."

I stepped closer.

"Please."

The assistant swallowed.

"He said the client wanted a digital version of Hazel Holloway."

I froze.

"What?"

"A video."

"Of me?"

"Yes."

"What kind?"

He didn't answer.

Margot's voice sharpened.

"What kind of video?"

The assistant whispered:

"A confession."

My skin went cold.

"What confession?"

"He had footage of Hazel talking about debts."

"I don't have debts."

"That's what I said."

He reached behind the desk and pulled out a folder.

Inside were edited screenshots.

Fake bank statements.

Fabricated messages.

A manipulated video.

Someone had cut pieces of old interviews and public videos to make it appear that I admitted to financial misconduct.

I felt sick.

"They were going to publish this."

The assistant nodded.

"When?"

"Tonight."

Margot took photos of everything.

Then she looked at me.

"This is evidence of fraud and defamation."

"Can we stop it?"

"Maybe."

The assistant looked at us.

"There is more."

"What?"

He pointed at the computer.

"Your family scheduled a livestream."

"For what?"

"Grant is going to announce the future of Holloway Catering."

My stomach tightened.

"When?"

"Seven tonight."

Margot checked the date.

The anniversary party had been two nights ago.

That meant they had planned for the narrative to continue after the party.

They hadn't expected the gift.

They were improvising.

Which made them more dangerous.

At 6:30, Sienna called.

Her voice was shaking.

"I shouldn't be calling you."

"Then why are you?"

"Because Grant knows I helped you."

"Where are you?"

"At the family office."

"Can you leave?"

"I tried."

"What's stopping you?"

She whispered:

"The door is locked."

I stood.

"What?"

"I'm serious."

"Call the police."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because Dad has something on me."

"What?"

"Financial records."

I closed my eyes.

"Tell me everything."

Sienna began crying.

"I was the one who created the fake video."

I didn't speak.

"I didn't know how far they'd take it."

"Where is Grant?"

"In Dad's office."

"Doing what?"

"Preparing the transfer."

"What transfer?"

"The properties."

Margot looked at me.

"He's moving them tonight."

I grabbed my keys.

"Where?"

Sienna whispered the words.

"The county courthouse."

Then the line cut.

Seconds later, my phone buzzed.

A new message.

A photograph of me leaving Margot's office.

Underneath:

Stop digging.

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