Chapter 12 - The Real OwnerDaniel Was Never at the Top
We escaped through the tunnel.
Bullets struck the walls behind us.
My father pulled me toward a hidden hatch leading into the woods.
We ran until the house disappeared behind the trees.
Only then did he speak.
“The real owner isn't Robert.”
“Then who?”
He looked at me.
“Your mother.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“She discovered the foundation wasn't Robert's creation.”
My father explained.
Years before I was born, my mother created a private trust.
She used it to hide evidence from Robert.
But after her death, the trust was taken over by someone else.
Someone who had access to her records.
Someone who knew my father.
Someone who knew me.
Daniel.
I stared.
“No.”
“He learned everything from my old files.”
“He was a child.”
“He was intelligent.”
My father looked away.
“He became obsessed with proving his family had destroyed yours.”
“Then why did he marry me?”
“Because he believed you were the key.”
“To what?”
“The trust.”
The account worth $8.4 million.
The trust wasn't money stolen by Daniel.
It was money my mother had hidden.
Money accumulated from assets she had protected before her death.
It had grown for decades.
And the legal heir was me.
Daniel had spent five years trying to unlock it.
But there was a problem.
The trust required two signatures.
Mine.
And the surviving trustee.
Robert.
Daniel had needed me alive.
Which meant the airport plan had never been about the $8 million.
It had been about forcing me to disappear long enough to trigger a second legal mechanism.
“What mechanism?”
My father pulled out a document.
“If the beneficiary disappears under suspicious circumstances, control temporarily transfers.”
“To whom?”
He looked at me.
“Northlake.”
So Daniel had planned to fake my death.
Then Northlake would gain temporary control of the trust.
He could access it later.
But someone had complicated the plan.
Me.
By surviving.
By disappearing voluntarily.
By refusing to play the role he had written.
My father took my hand.
“Claire, Daniel isn't the only one who wants that money.”
“I know.”
“No.”
His voice became urgent.
“You don't.”
He pointed to a photograph.
A woman.
Older.
Elegant.
Standing beside Robert Hale.
I recognized her immediately.
Vanessa had shown me photographs from the old files.
It was Margaret Hale.
Daniel's mother.
The woman I had believed died when he was nineteen.
I stared at the photograph.
“She isn't dead.”
My father nodded.
“She runs Northlake.”
My body went cold.
“But Robert said…”
“Robert lies.”
Then another truth hit me.
Daniel had said on the phone:
You think my father is the monster.
He isn't.
My father continued.
“Margaret was the architect.”
“Then why did Robert take the blame?”
“Because he loved her.”
Everything suddenly rearranged itself.
Robert had been her shield.
Daniel had been her son.
And I had been the heir standing between them and millions.
“What happened to Daniel's father?”
My father looked at me.
“Margaret ordered him to disappear.”
I remembered Elena's words.
He and Daniel argue.
The money.
The foundation.
They weren't fighting over money.
They were fighting over Margaret.
Daniel wanted to expose his mother.
Robert wanted to protect her.
And I had been caught between them.
My phone rang again.
This time, Daniel was crying.
“Claire, I need you to believe me.”
“I don't.”
“You should.”
“You've lied to me for five years.”
“I know.”
“You tried to frame me.”
“I was trying to survive.”
“You abandoned me in a blizzard.”
Silence.
Then:
“I thought if they believed you were dead, they'd stop looking for you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You dressed another woman in my clothes.”
“I didn't know about that.”
“Who did?”
“I don't know.”
I looked at my father.
He motioned for me to put the phone on speaker.
Daniel continued.
“My mother is coming for you.”
“Margaret.”
“Yes.”
“How long have you known she's alive?”
“All my life.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because every time I got close to exposing her, someone died.”
I stared into the darkness.
“Who?”
“Lisa.”
My breath caught.
“And Vanessa?”
“She'll be next.”
I looked at Vanessa.
She was standing beside us.
Daniel spoke again.
“Claire, you asked where you've been?”
I closed my eyes.
“What?”
“Ten days ago, you thought I left you at O'Hare.”
“Yes.”
“I did.”
“But?”
He swallowed.
“I didn't know someone else was waiting for you.”
“Who?”
“The driver who was supposed to pick you up after I left.”
I frowned.
“What driver?”
“I canceled the ride.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
He whispered,
“Because when I drove away, I saw another car following you.”
My heart stopped.
“Daniel…”
“It had been waiting in the pickup lane before I arrived.”
My father stepped closer.
“What did it look like?”
Daniel gave the description.
Black SUV.
No plates.
Tinted windows.
Then he said,
“Claire, that car belonged to my mother.”
The line went dead.
May you like
A second later, a black SUV emerged from the trees.
And its headlights turned toward us.
