Chapter 10 - Someone Tried to Take My SonThe gunshots lasted only seconds, but they transformed the hotel into a place of chaos.
People ran through the corridors. Guests poured from elevators, and the fire alarm continued screaming overhead.
One of the investigators pushed through the door.
"Move! We're leaving through the service exit!"
Ashley followed me into the corridor, clutching the digital recorder against her chest. A second investigator blocked the stairwell while our security officer guided us toward a restricted service passage.
We reached the underground garage without encountering the attackers.
Then Elena's voice came through my earpiece.
"Emma, we have another problem."
I stopped walking.
"What?"
"There's been an attempted breach at your residence."
My blood turned to ice.
"Daniel?"
"He's safe. The medical team and security officers have him in a protected room. Someone arrived claiming to be a pediatric nurse and presented forged identification."
For a moment, the garage seemed to tilt.
"Did they get near him?"
"The security team stopped the woman at the first checkpoint. She never reached his room."
I pressed one hand against my mouth.
Michael had seen me at the gala. Thomas knew Eleanor might be alive. And within hours, someone had tried to enter the residence where my son was being cared for.
I wanted to turn around and go straight to Daniel.
But Richard's voice came through the speaker.
"Emma, listen to me. He's safe. Stay with the investigators until they clear the route home."
I forced myself to breathe.
"Who sent her?"
"We're examining her identification and phone," Elena answered. "She appears to have been paid by a private security contractor connected to Thomas's company."
I looked at Ashley.
She had gone completely white.
"He knows," she whispered.
"Knows what?"
"That you survived. That the evidence exists. That he may be losing control."
A police vehicle arrived at the garage entrance. Officers escorted us out and transported us to a secure facility, where investigators separated Ashley for questioning.
I was taken to a private room, given a glass of water, and told that my son remained safe.
Only then did my legs begin to shake.
Richard arrived twenty minutes later.
He didn't lecture me or demand to know why I had gone to the gala. He simply pulled me into his arms while I cried against his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"For what?"
"For bringing this danger near Daniel."
Richard drew back and looked me in the eyes.
"The danger existed before you knew about it. You didn't create it by standing up to the people responsible."
He held me until I could breathe normally.
Then Margaret arrived with an update from the investigators.
The woman who had attempted to enter the residence had been paid through a shell company. Her payment had originated from an account used by Michael's investment firm.
More importantly, the police had found something else in her bag.
A photograph of Daniel.
It had been taken through the window of the private medical facility several days earlier.
I felt sick.
"How long have they been watching him?"
"We don't know," Margaret replied. "But the photograph suggests this was planned before tonight."
Richard's expression changed.
"They were preparing for the possibility that Emma survived."
"Why would they risk taking the baby?" I asked. "If they wanted to stay hidden, approaching him would be the worst possible decision."
Margaret glanced at the paperwork.
"Unless they believed his existence threatened their access to the trust."
I remembered Thomas's words from the recording.
An infant cannot interfere with a properly prepared financial arrangement.
"What happens if I refuse to sign anything?" I asked.
"Nothing happens immediately," Margaret said. "Your son is protected by law, and your mother's trust cannot simply be taken because someone makes a claim against it. That's precisely why we've been preserving the original documents."
"Then what were they planning?"
"Perhaps leverage. Perhaps an attempt to force you to cooperate. We shouldn't assume we know their exact objective until the investigation uncovers more."
Richard took my hand.
"Whatever they want, they won't get near Daniel again."
I wanted to believe him.
But the photograph remained in my mind.
Someone had stood outside a room where my premature son was fighting to grow stronger and had taken a picture of him for a man who had already tried to kill his mother.
I needed more than promises.
I needed the evidence that would put Michael and Thomas somewhere they could never reach us again.
Later that night, Elena entered the room carrying a sealed evidence bag.
Inside was a small black USB drive recovered from the woman who had attempted to breach the residence.
"We've examined the contents," she said. "Most of the files were encrypted, but one video was accessible."
She placed a laptop on the table and pressed play.
The footage showed a man sitting in a dark office.
Michael.
He looked exhausted, his collar open, his hair disheveled. He was speaking to someone outside the frame.
"I told you she was dead," Michael said. "I saw her fall."
Another voice answered.
"You saw her disappear. Those are not the same thing."
Thomas stepped into view.
He placed a red leather notebook on the desk.
My breath stopped.
The brass clasp was unmistakable.
Thomas opened the notebook and turned several pages.
"Your problem," he said, "is that you've spent your entire life believing a problem disappears when you stop looking at it."
Michael leaned forward.
"What do you want me to do?"
Thomas closed the notebook.
"Find Emma Carter. Find Eleanor Whitmore. Recover the original documents."
"And if Emma refuses to cooperate?"
Thomas looked at him with quiet contempt.
"Then you finish what you started."
Michael's face drained of color.
"You told me the cliff would solve everything."
"I told you the cliff was an opportunity. You were the one who pushed her."
I felt cold all over.
The conversation continued.
Michael began arguing about the insurance money, the debt, and the risks he had taken. Thomas listened without visible emotion.
Finally, Thomas leaned forward.
"Do you know why I chose you, Michael?"
Michael shook his head.
"Because you're greedy enough to do what decent people won't, but stupid enough to believe the money will make you powerful."
Thomas tapped the notebook.
"And because you married the one woman whose family could destroy me."
The video ended.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Elena looked toward me.
"The file contains more than the conversation. There are dates, payment records, and references to the original death investigation."
I stared at the black screen.
Michael had not merely collaborated with Thomas.
Thomas had chosen him.
He had turned my husband into a weapon, convinced him that murder would solve his problems, and expected to dispose of him afterward.
But the most disturbing detail was the notebook.
May you like
Thomas still had it.
And if that notebook contained the truth about Eleanor's supposed death, it might also explain why my mother spent the final years of her life hiding from the same man who had now ordered someone to take my son.
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