Chapter 5 - The Secret AccountThe investigators spent six hours inside the townhouse.
They removed boxes.
Computer towers.
Old phones.
Financial records.
File cabinets.
Even the locked drawer in Dad's office that I had never been allowed to touch.
Mom sat silently on the couch.
Jessica barely spoke.
I stayed near the dining room window, watching strangers carry out pieces of the life I had helped finance.
At sunset, Richard approached me.
“We found something.”
I turned.
“What?”
He handed me a statement.
A bank account.
My name appeared at the top.
I stared.
Below it was a transaction history stretching back four years.
Deposits.
Withdrawals.
Transfers.
Credit-card payments.
Corporate expenses.
The total amount passing through the account made my stomach churn.
“That isn't my account.”
“I know.”
“Who had access?”
Richard pointed to a line.
Authorized user.
My mother's name.
I looked at her.
She was still sitting on the couch.
I walked over.
“Mom.”
She raised her head.
I held up the statement.
“Why did you open an account in my name?”
Her lips trembled.
“I didn't open it.”
“The bank says you did.”
“I signed something.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“Why?”
She looked down.
“Your father told me we needed a backup.”
“For what?”
She didn't answer.
I sat across from her.
“You used my identity to move money.”
“We were going to fix everything.”
“When?”
“When Blake succeeded.”
My chest tightened.
“So all of this was about Blake.”
Mom began crying again.
I had heard that sound too many times.
It used to make me soften.
Now it only made me tired.
“What was Dad hiding?”
She whispered,
“He never told me everything.”
“Then tell me what you know.”
She hesitated.
Finally she said,
“After the business failed, Daniel Crowe came back.”
I listened.
“He told your father he could recover part of the missing money.”
“How?”
“Through contracts.”
“What contracts?”
She shook her head.
“Development contracts. Consulting. Design work.”
My mind immediately went to Mercer Urban.
“Blake?”
“Yes.”
“So Blake knew?”
“He knew something.”
“Something?”
Mom's face twisted.
“He thought he was helping.”
I stood.
“No. He knew he was stealing.”
Mom looked away.
I left her there.
Richard was waiting in the hallway.
“What did she say?”
I told him.
He nodded.
“We suspected Daniel was using shell companies.”
“Why involve me?”
“We're not sure.”
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A distorted voice said,
“You should stop digging.”
My blood ran cold.
“Who is this?”
“You don't want to know what your family buried.”
I looked at Richard.
The voice continued.
“Blake made a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“You.”
The line went dead.
Richard immediately asked,
“Who was that?”
“I don't know.”
We traced the number.
Blocked.
Temporary.
Unregistered.
Then one of the investigators hurried toward us.
“Mr. Mercer.”
Richard turned.
“We found a hidden compartment.”
“Where?”
“Blake's old bedroom.”
Richard and I followed them upstairs.
The compartment was behind a loose wooden panel.
Inside was a metal box.
Locked.
The investigator forced it open.
There were passports.
Three phones.
A stack of envelopes.
And a handwritten notebook.
My name appeared on the first page.
I took it.
The first sentence read:
NATALIE IS THE KEY.
My skin prickled.
I turned the page.
There were notes about my work.
My clients.
My income.
My taxes.
My habits.
Even the hours I worked.
Someone had been watching me.
Not just my family.
Someone had studied me.
Then I saw a section titled:
WHEN SHE LEAVES.
Underneath were instructions.
Move assets.
Close account.
Transfer final payment.
Destroy originals.
My hands started shaking.
There was a final line.
Make sure she looks unstable if she starts asking questions.
I stared.
Richard read it over my shoulder.
His expression changed.
“This isn't just financial fraud.”
“What is it?”
“This is evidence of a coordinated attempt to discredit you.”
I turned another page.
A photograph slid out.
It showed me standing outside a coffee shop.
Taken from across the street.
Another photograph.
Me entering my office.
Another.
Me leaving a client meeting.
I felt watched.
Exposed.
Targeted.
Then I recognized the car reflected in one of the photographs.
A dark gray sedan.
I had seen it before.
Parked outside my apartment.
Parked near my old office.
Parked outside Grandma Rose's house.
I looked at Richard.
“I know that car.”
He stiffened.
“Where?”
“Everywhere.”
Before he could answer, one of the investigators called from downstairs.
“We found the vehicle registration.”
Richard hurried down.
I followed.
The registration belonged to a company.
Not my father.
Not Daniel.
Not Blake.
A company I had never heard of.
Richard stared at the document.
Then he looked at me.
“Natalie…”
“What?”
“This company has one of your clients listed as its legal representative.”
My stomach dropped.
“Which client?”
He said the name.
I knew it immediately.
A company I had worked for two years earlier.
A company I had trusted.
And suddenly I understood something terrifying.
May you like
Maybe the people who betrayed me hadn't started with my family.
Maybe my family had only been one piece of something much larger.
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