Chapter 8 - The Man at the WindowMichael Vale did not enter through the front door.
He waited in the garden beside the old greenhouse, where Claire used to grow orchids. When I reached him, he was standing beneath the bare branches of an apple tree, holding a weathered leather folder.
He was in his early thirties, tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and a thin scar running from his left temple to his eyebrow.
He also had my father's eyes.
The resemblance was startling.
“You look like him,” I said.
“So I've been told.”
“Are you Edward's son?”
Michael opened the folder.
Inside were photographs, birth records, and a letter bearing my father's signature.
“I was adopted at six months old. My adoptive parents were good people. They raised me as their own, and I never wanted anything from Edward Whitmore.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because Claire contacted me eight months before she died.”
I stared at him.
“What did she tell you?”
“That Edward had hidden my identity. She thought I might know something about the account records because my birth mother had worked in your father's hotel.”
“Did you?”
“No. But I recognized one of the names in her documents.”
He showed me a photograph of a man standing beside Richard outside a bank.
I recognized him as Victor Shaw, our former chief financial officer. He had resigned after a scandal involving missing company funds, though Richard had insisted the matter was unrelated to Lily's trust.
“Victor handled Bluehaven,” Michael said. “He helped move the money.”
“Where is he now?”
“Dead.”
The word seemed to echo through the garden.
“An accident?”
Michael shook his head.
“His car was found in a river six months ago. The police ruled it accidental, but Claire believed he was preparing to expose Richard.”
I looked at the leather folder.
“How did you know I would be here?”
“Because Claire told me that if anything happened to her, I should come to the mansion on your wedding day.”
“Why the wedding day?”
“Because she predicted Richard would make his final move when you married Victoria.”
I thought of the wedding arrangements, the guests, the public announcement that Victoria would become a legal member of the Whitmore family.
If she had married me, she might have gained influence over my estate and access to the records Claire had hidden.
“She knew Victoria was involved.”
“She suspected Victoria had been recruited. She wasn't certain whether Victoria was willing or coerced.”
“Why didn't you come sooner?”
Michael's expression hardened.
“Because someone followed me every time I got close to the estate. Last week, my apartment was broken into. Nothing valuable was taken, but someone left a photograph of my adoptive parents on my kitchen table.”
A cold anger rose in my chest.
“They threatened your family?”
“Yes.”
“Then why risk coming now?”
Michael looked toward the mansion.
“Because I received a message this morning.”
He handed me his phone.
The message contained a photograph of Lily carrying her pink handbag. It had been taken from outside the house just after sunrise.
Beneath it was a sentence.
THE LITTLE GIRL HAS THE KEY. GET IT BEFORE THE FATHER DOES.
My blood turned to ice.
“Who sent this?”
“An unknown number.”
I called security immediately and ordered additional guards around Lily's room. Then I brought Michael inside through the rear entrance.
Victoria was waiting in the library.
When she saw him, she went completely still.
“You,” she whispered.
Michael turned toward her.
“You remember me.”
Victoria nodded slowly.
“I saw your photograph in Richard's office.”
“When?”
“Before I accepted Daniel's proposal.”
I looked at her.
“You knew Michael existed?”
“I knew someone named Michael had been investigating the family. I didn't know he was Edward's son.”
Michael placed his folder on the table.
“Then perhaps you can explain why Richard paid you to marry Daniel instead of simply stealing the documents himself.”
Victoria looked at me.
For the first time, she did not seem frightened of Richard.
She seemed frightened of the answer.
“Because,” she said, “Richard wasn't the one who came up with the plan.”
She reached inside the pocket of her wedding gown and pulled out a small folded photograph.
It showed a man standing beside Richard at the hospital where Claire had been treated after her car crash.
The man wore a dark suit and a silver ring.
Michael took one look at him and stepped backward.
“No,” he whispered.
I held the photograph under the light.
“Who is he?”
Michael's voice barely emerged.
“That's Dr. Samuel Cross.”
“Should I know him?”
Michael stared at the photograph with naked terror.
“He was the doctor who signed my birth records.”
May you like
He looked at me.
“And he was my adoptive father's brother.”
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