My Husband Pushed His Pregnant Wife Off a Frozen Cliff for $50 Million, Then Smirked at Her Funeral With His Mistress… Until a Mysterious Helicopter Arrived and Revealed the One Secret That Could Destroy Them Both!

This time, Richard arranged for a pediatric medical team to accompany us to a secure residence outside the city, a property owned by a trust that had no public connection to the Whitmore family.

The investigators established a strict communications protocol. Only a handful of people knew where we were staying, and all visits required confirmation through two separate channels.

I hated the secrecy.

I hated having to check the locks before holding my son near a window.

But I hated the thought of Michael learning our location even more.

By noon, the police had obtained search warrants related to the attempted breach, the suspected insurance fraud, and the shell companies used to transfer money. Ashley had agreed to cooperate and provide a complete statement, although the authorities made no promise that her cooperation would erase her involvement.

She had helped plan my death.

Whatever happened next, she would have to answer for that.

Michael, meanwhile, had disappeared.

His apartment was empty. His office had been cleared of personal items, and the private jet he had booked was no longer listed on the departure schedule.

Thomas Bell had also vanished from his usual residences.

The men who had spent years believing themselves untouchable had suddenly become very difficult to find.

Elena stood at the foot of my bed while I fed Daniel.

"We've confirmed Michael withdrew a substantial amount of cash before leaving his apartment," she said. "He's also contacted two associates who specialize in transporting people across state lines."

"Do you think he's running?"

"I think he knows he's in danger. Whether he's fleeing the police, Thomas, or both remains uncertain."

I looked toward the window.

"Can he collect the insurance money while he's missing?"

"Not easily. The claim is under review, and the evidence we've submitted raises serious questions. But he may have access to other accounts."

"Then we need to find him."

Elena nodded.

"There is one possible lead. The original policy documents were delivered to a private legal office in Denver. The attorney who handled them has agreed to speak with investigators."

"What does he know?"

"He says he was instructed to prepare a beneficiary change without speaking to you directly. He claims he believed the authorization had already been obtained."

"Who gave him the instruction?"

"Thomas Bell."

I closed my eyes.

The same name appeared everywhere.

Thomas had arranged the policy, controlled the records, and connected my husband to the money. He had also searched for Eleanor for years, which meant the story of a dead grandmother had never been as settled as Richard believed.

"Ask the attorney about the notebook," I said. "Tell him we know Thomas has it."

Elena made a note.

Before she left, my phone rang.

An unfamiliar number.

I answered only after Elena confirmed the call could be monitored.

"Emma?"

A woman's voice.

Weak. Older.

I gripped the phone.

"Who is this?"

"You don't know me, but I knew your mother."

I sat up carefully.

"Where are you?"

"Somewhere Thomas cannot reach me. At least, not yet."

"Are you my grandmother?"

A long silence followed.

"Yes."

I felt tears spring to my eyes.

"Where have you been?"

"Surviving."

Her voice trembled.

"Your mother believed I was dead. I let her believe that because it was the only way I could keep Thomas from following her. When I learned she had died, I tried to find you. But the people around Thomas had already begun watching anyone connected to the Whitmore family."

"Why didn't you contact Richard?"

"Because Richard trusted Thomas. I couldn't risk giving Thomas another route into the family."

I looked at the photograph of Eleanor resting on my bedside table.

"Did you know my husband?"

"I knew of him. Thomas introduced Michael to several people who wanted access to your mother's trust. When Michael married you, I realized someone had finally found a way to reach you through your personal life."

My stomach tightened.

"Then you knew he was going to kill me?"

"I suspected what they wanted, but I didn't know the exact plan. I tried to obtain the documents that could expose them. By the time I reached the storage facility, most of the evidence had been removed."

I leaned forward.

"Do you have the notebook?"

"Not anymore."

The answer chilled me.

"Where is it?"

"Thomas has it. But I kept a copy of the most important pages."

"Where?"

"In a place your mother chose. A place she believed nobody would think to search."

My heart began racing.

"Tell me where."

"I will. But first, you need to understand what happened twenty-four years ago."

I held the phone closer.

Eleanor's voice became unsteady.

"The woman whose body was recovered from that car was not me. Thomas arranged the identification using falsified records. He wanted the world to believe I was dead so he could gain control of the accounts I managed."

I stared at Richard, who had just entered the room.

He stopped when he saw my expression.

"Your grandmother is on the phone," I whispered.

I placed the call on speaker.

Richard approached slowly.

"Eleanor?"

A breath caught on the other end.

"Richard."

He gripped the edge of the table.

"You're alive."

"I am."

"Why didn't you come back?"

"Because the man you trusted was the reason I couldn't."

Richard shut his eyes.

For a long time, neither of them spoke.

Then Eleanor continued.

"Grace discovered the truth after she found one of my old account ledgers. She confronted Thomas, and he threatened her. She believed he was responsible for my supposed death and feared he would target Emma next."

My chest tightened.

"Did Thomas kill my mother?"

"I cannot prove that," Eleanor said. "But the night Grace died, she was on her way to meet a journalist with copies of the financial records. Her car left the road. The police called it an accident, and Thomas made certain the investigation ended there."

I felt as though the floor had disappeared beneath me again.

My mother had not simply left me a world of secrets.

She might have died trying to expose the man who was now trying to kill me.

"Where are you?" I asked.

"I can't tell you over the phone. I will come to you, but you must promise me something first."

"What?"

"Do not confront Thomas until you have the original notebook."

"Why?"

"Because it doesn't only expose his financial crimes. It contains the name of the person who helped him arrange my death."

Richard went rigid.

"Who?"

Eleanor took a shaky breath.