Chapter 10 - Wesley dropped the phone.Emily screamed.
“No.”
She grabbed it.
The photograph showed her son sitting beside Cora in a car.
He looked frightened.
But alive.
“Where is she?”
Emily ran toward the door.
Daniel blocked her.
“Wait.”
“My son is out there!”
“You run outside, you lose him.”
Emily fought against him.
“She has my baby!”
I took the phone.
Called Cora.
She answered immediately.
“Margaret.”
Her voice was calm.
“Let my grandson go.”
“He isn't yours to command.”
“Then release the drive.”
“You already know it's been copied.”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you need it?”
“Because there is one file you haven't opened.”
I frowned.
“Which file?”
“WILLOW_FAMILY.”
The call ended.
Daniel rushed to the laptop.
We searched.
There it was.
A hidden folder.
Password protected.
Wesley whispered,
“What does that mean?”
Daniel looked at me.
“It means your husband knew this would happen.”
The password prompt appeared.
We tried dates.
Birthdays.
Names.
Nothing.
Then Emily said,
“Mom.”
“What?”
“Dad always used the same phrase.”
“What phrase?”
She looked at me.
“Home is where the truth sleeps.”
I typed it.
The folder opened.
Inside was one video.
I pressed play.
My husband appeared again.
This time, he looked directly into the camera.
“Margaret, if you are seeing this, the family has been compromised.”
I felt tears burn my eyes.
“My greatest mistake was believing blood automatically creates loyalty.”
He paused.
“It doesn't.”
Then the screen changed.
A map appeared.
Several locations were marked.
The restaurant.
My house.
The NorthStar storage facility.
And a final location.
Willow Creek Courthouse.
“Everything they want is connected to a property transfer scheduled for tomorrow.”
Daniel leaned closer.
“What transfer?”
The screen showed a document.
A transfer of my house.
But the buyer wasn't a person.
It was a company.
Willow Creek Development Group.
Daniel cursed.
“What?”
“That company doesn't exist.”
I looked at him.
“It exists.”
“What?”
“I've seen the name.”
Where?
On the restaurant receipt.
The company's name had appeared beneath the dinner charge.
It had been disguised as a catering transaction.
But the address...
I recognized it.
It was Richard Hale's law office.
They were trying to transfer my property through a company they controlled.
And tomorrow was the deadline.
The video continued.
“If they successfully transfer the property, they will gain access to the sealed archive.”
I whispered,
“They still don't know about the archive.”
My husband shook his head on the screen.
“They know.”
“What?”
“They've known since I died.”
Then he said something that shattered me.
“And Margaret, the archive is not the evidence.”
I stared.
“What?”
“The archive is a key.”
“To what?”
“The account.”
Daniel stopped breathing.
“What account?”
My husband continued.
“There is money.”
“How much?”
“More than enough to destroy every person involved.”
The screen displayed a number.
$14,700,000.
Silence.
Fourteen million seven hundred thousand dollars.
Hidden in an account controlled by the trust.
Money my husband had recovered from the network.
Money they had spent years trying to find.
Daniel whispered,
“That's what they want.”
I nodded.
“They're not after the house.”
“They're after the money.”
“But why the house?”
“Because the legal key is tied to the property.”
Suddenly everything made sense.
The house wasn't valuable because of its market price.
It was valuable because owning it gave access to the trust.
I looked at Wesley.
“Cora knows.”
He nodded.
“Richard knows.”
“Yes.”
“And Marcus?”
“Yes.”
Then I looked at Emily.
“And they have your son.”
She began to cry.
My phone buzzed.
Cora.
One message.
MIDNIGHT. COURTHOUSE. COME WITH THE TRUST DOCUMENTS.
Then another.
OR THE BOY DIES.
I stared at the words.
For the first time that night, Daniel reached for his gun.
“We're going.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because they expect us to come frightened.”
I picked up the trust documents.
“We're going prepared.”
I turned off the laptop.
“And this time, we're not bringing the truth to them.”
May you like
I looked toward the dark window.
“We're bringing a trap.”
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