Chapter 5 - Diego came to the hospital at 6:05 the following morning.He wasn't alone.
Two attorneys walked behind him.
A private investigator stood near the elevator.
Three security officers followed.
And for the first time since the attack, Diego looked afraid.
I watched him through the glass partition.
He wasn't the arrogant man who had pushed me beneath freezing water.
He looked smaller.
Exhausted.
Desperate.
My father stood beside my bed.
“Do you want him here?”
I looked at Diego.
“Yes.”
My father frowned.
“Why?”
“Because I want him to talk.”
He nodded.
Diego entered.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he said,
“I didn't mean to hurt you.”
I laughed.
“You pushed me into freezing water.”
“I was angry.”
“You watched me fall.”
“I panicked.”
“You watched me stop moving.”
His face tightened.
“I thought you were pretending.”
I looked at him.
“You thought I was pretending to die?”
He had no answer.
“Who is Vanessa?”
He looked at my father.
“Don't.”
I leaned back.
“Answer me.”
“She works for Holloway.”
“What does that mean?”
“She handles corporate acquisitions.”
“You were sleeping with her?”
“No.”
I studied him.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I wasn't trying to have an affair.”
“Then what were you doing?”
His eyes shifted.
“I was trying to protect myself.”
My father's voice turned cold.
“From whom?”
Diego looked at him.
“Your family.”
My father almost laughed.
“Explain.”
Diego swallowed.
“Holloway told me Sterling was going to collapse.”
“That's a lie.”
“I believed him.”
“Why?”
“Because he showed me documents.”
“What documents?”
“Loans.”
My father stopped.
Diego continued.
“Debt exposure. Offshore obligations. Hidden litigation. He said your father was hiding the company's real condition.”
My father looked at me.
I had never heard any of this.
Diego said,
“He told me the company would be bankrupt within a year.”
My father whispered,
“Holloway.”
I asked,
“What did he offer you?”
“A way out.”
“What way?”
“If I helped move your shares, I would receive a percentage.”
My father stepped toward him.
“How much?”
“Twenty percent.”
My father's face became terrifyingly calm.
“Twenty percent of what?”
“The acquisition.”
Silence.
Diego suddenly looked directly at me.
“I swear I didn't know they wanted you dead.”
My heart stopped.
“Who wanted me dead?”
He closed his eyes.
“I don't know.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“I heard them talking.”
“Who?”
“Holloway.”
“And?”
Another name.
One I wasn't prepared to hear.
“Your father.”
I stared.
My father's expression didn't move.
“What?”
Diego continued.
“He said Alvin Sterling had become a problem.”
I turned toward my father.
For a second, doubt entered the room.
Then Detective Harris appeared at the door.
“That's impossible.”
Diego looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because Alvin Sterling was under surveillance the night Holloway claimed he met with him.”
Everyone froze.
My father looked at her.
“Where was I?”
“Watching the live feed of your daughter.”
Diego's face changed.
Detective Harris turned toward him.
“Which means you're lying.”
“I am not.”
“Or someone showed you a recording.”
Diego stared.
She stepped closer.
“Who gave you the recording?”
He didn't answer.
“Diego.”
He finally whispered,
“Brenna.”
My blood ran cold.
“My mother-in-law?”
“She showed me a clip.”
“What clip?”
“Your father talking to Holloway.”
My father shook his head.
“Impossible.”
“Then prove it.”
My father looked at Detective Harris.
“Find the original.”
She nodded.
Then Diego's attorney interrupted.
“My client has provided enough information.”
“No,” I said.
Everyone looked at me.
“I want to know about the signature.”
Diego looked at me.
“What?”
“The documents.”
His face went pale.
“Holloway told me the transfer required both signatures.”
“My signature and yours.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did he need mine?”
Diego didn't answer.
My father stepped closer.
“Because the shares were protected by a trust.”
Diego looked down.
Then I understood.
“My shares couldn't be transferred without me.”
He nodded.
“Unless I died.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Detective Harris checked her phone.
“Mrs. Calder.”
“What?”
“We traced the money used to post your husband's bail.”
“To the trust?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“The trust was funded by someone.”
“Who?”
She looked at the screen.
Then slowly raised her eyes.
“You.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Money was transferred from your personal inheritance account into the Silver Crown Trust six months ago.”
“That isn't possible.”
My father took the phone.
The account number was mine.
The signature was mine.
Even the security verification matched.
But I had never made the transfer.
Someone had forged it perfectly.
Then Diego whispered,
“That means they already have access to your inheritance.”
The room went silent.
My father looked at the documents again.
Then suddenly he noticed something.
A timestamp.
Six months ago.
Three weeks after my wedding.
He looked at me.
“Sweetheart…”
“What?”
“The day you signed your prenuptial agreement.”
I remembered.
The lawyer.
The private room.
The fingerprint scanner.
The verification screen.
And the moment Diego had kissed my forehead before telling me,
“Trust me.”
I felt sick.
Because if someone had cloned my identity back then...
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They hadn't started planning the attack three months ago.
They had started on our wedding day.
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