Chapter 10 - The Woman in the CameraSomeone had been inside Naomi's home before Christmas
Naomi checked the security footage.
December 24.
6:41 p.m.
She walked through the kitchen carrying a cup of tea.
7:02.
She went upstairs.
7:18.
A car passed.
7:31.
Nothing.
7:46.
A shadow appeared near the side gate.
Naomi paused the footage.
“Zoom in.”
The technician enhanced the image.
Rain blurred the figure.
But the coat was visible.
Long beige trench coat.
Black boots.
Dark umbrella.
Nina stared.
“Lauren.”
Naomi nodded.
Her daughter-in-law had entered through the side door.
She had used the emergency code.
The footage showed Lauren walking directly to Naomi's office.
She stayed there for nine minutes.
Then left.
Naomi remembered that night.
Lauren had texted her earlier.
Just dropping off Sophie's Christmas card.
The card had never been there.
Naomi pressed her fingertips to her forehead.
“Why?”
The technician continued.
“There's more.”
He opened another clip.
December 24.
8:03 p.m.
A second person entered.
No umbrella.
Black coat.
Hat.
Face hidden.
They walked straight to the office.
They were inside for less than three minutes.
Then they left.
Naomi stared.
“Do you know who that is?”
“No.”
“Can you track the vehicle?”
“We have plates.”
The technician typed.
Then stopped.
“Naomi?”
“What?”
“This plate belongs to a law firm.”
“Which one?”
He read it.
“Vale & Price.”
Naomi felt her stomach drop.
“Samuel's firm?”
“Yes.”
Impossible.
Samuel had warned her.
Could he also be involved?
At noon, Naomi met him again.
She placed the security image on the table.
“Was one of your vehicles here?”
Samuel looked at it.
Then closed his eyes.
“I was afraid of this.”
“Tell me.”
“The person wasn't me.”
“Who?”
Samuel swallowed.
“Jonathan Vale.”
Naomi's breath caught.
“Your former associate?”
“Yes.”
“He died four years ago.”
“No.”
Samuel looked at her.
“He staged his death.”
The words sounded insane.
But Naomi had lived enough strange days lately to know insanity and truth could wear identical coats.
“Why?”
“Because Jonathan was working for Northstar.”
“For Arthur?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Samuel whispered:
“Someone above Arthur.”
Naomi's hands tightened.
“Palisade?”
Samuel nodded.
“That name appears in old trust documents.”
“How?”
“Palisade was originally a private investment structure.”
“Owned by whom?”
Samuel looked at her.
“Your father.”
Naomi stared.
The room seemed to disappear.
“My father owned Palisade?”
“Not directly.”
“Explain.”
“Your father established it as a protective holding entity.”
“For what?”
“For your research.”
Naomi shook her head.
“My father died before Clear Path.”
“Yes.”
“But he anticipated it.”
“No.”
Samuel's voice softened.
“He anticipated you.”
Naomi couldn't speak.
Her father had always believed she was capable of more than she believed herself capable of.
But this was different.
“How much did he put into it?”
“Initially, two million.”
“For me?”
“For educational initiatives you might pursue.”
Naomi looked away.
“And Richard?”
“Was aware.”
“Arthur?”
“Found out.”
“Northstar?”
“Eventually.”
Naomi stood.
“Then why wasn't I told?”
“Because your father wanted you to build something without money controlling the outcome.”
She laughed bitterly.
“And now money controls everything.”
Samuel shook his head.
“No.”
He reached into his briefcase.
“That's why I'm here.”
He handed her a second document.
A trust amendment.
It had been created one year before Richard died.
Naomi read the first paragraph.
Her father's handwriting appeared in the attached letter.
Naomi, when they finally see your value, watch carefully. The people who ignored you will suddenly remember your name.
Naomi felt tears rise.
The final line was worse.
When that happens, the danger will not come from strangers. It will come from the people who tell you they are protecting you.
Naomi lowered the document.
She understood.
Christmas.
Lauren.
Scott.
Arthur.
The staged concern.
The legal claim.
The emotional pressure.
It wasn't a reaction to Clear Path becoming valuable.
It was a response to someone knowing the value before Naomi did.
She looked at Samuel.
“Who controls Palisade now?”
Samuel shook his head.
“No one knows.”
“You do.”
“No.”
“You're lying.”
He looked toward the door.
Then leaned closer.
“The person who controls it has never used their legal name.”
“Then what do they use?”
Samuel whispered one word.
“Avery.”
Naomi frowned.
“Who is Avery?”
Samuel's expression changed.
“Someone who has been watching you for thirty-five years.”
Then his phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen.
His face drained of color.
Naomi reached for the phone.
The message contained a photograph.
A photo of Naomi leaving the hotel.
Taken from across the street.
Under it:
You were warned not to dig.
May you like
A second message arrived.
Next time, we won't warn you.
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