Chapter 9 - The SignaturePatricia had transformed the dining room.
Gone were the family photographs.
The silverware.
The flowers.
In their place sat legal folders.
A notary.
Two lawyers.
And Ryan.
His wrists were cuffed to the chair.
I walked in.
Patricia smiled.
“Welcome home.”
“I’m not signing anything.”
“We’ll see.”
She gestured toward the papers.
“Your trust activates today.”
I frowned.
“My birthday isn’t for four months.”
“Clause seven.”
She slid a document toward me.
I read it.
Marriage to an approved heir triggered early activation.
My marriage to Ryan had done exactly that.
My heart sank.
“You planned this.”
“Yes.”
“Did you arrange my wedding?”
Patricia smiled.
“I introduced you to Ryan.”
I stared at her.
The memory came rushing back.
The charity event.
The first time Ryan approached me.
The way he already knew my name.
The strange coincidence that we both loved the same obscure jazz musician.
It had felt like fate.
It wasn’t.
“Ryan.”
He looked at me.
“I didn’t know.”
“Not at first,” Patricia said.
Ryan flinched.
I turned to her.
“Why me?”
“Because your father’s trust could destroy everything we built.”
“What did my father know?”
“Enough to become dangerous.”
“What happened the night he died?”
Silence.
The lawyers looked down.
Patricia smiled.
“He drove too fast in the rain.”
“Did you kill him?”
“No.”
I stared at her.
“But someone did.”
Ryan suddenly spoke.
“Mom.”
She turned.
“Don’t.”
He looked at me.
“Your father wasn’t killed by Patricia.”
“Then who?”
Ryan swallowed.
“Daniel.”
My heart stopped.
“Why?”
“Because your father was going to expose everyone.”
Patricia’s expression darkened.
“You’re forgetting your place.”
“No.”
Ryan looked stronger now.
“I’m finally remembering it.”
He pulled at the cuffs.
“I know what you did.”
Patricia walked behind him.
“What exactly do you think you know?”
“The second trust.”
The room went silent.
Patricia froze.
I looked at Ryan.
“What second trust?”
Ryan smiled weakly.
“Dad created a second one.”
Patricia turned white.
Ryan continued.
“The first trust controls the company.”
He looked at me.
“The second controls the evidence.”
I felt a chill.
“Where is it?”
Ryan smiled.
“My father hid it before they took him.”
Patricia grabbed his chair.
“Where?”
Ryan looked directly at me.
“Emily has it.”
Everyone stared.
I shook my head.
“I don’t.”
Ryan whispered:
“You do.”
And suddenly I remembered the leather box.
The key.
The map.
The note.
There had been one object I had never opened.
The old photograph hidden beneath the lining.
I reached into my bag.
Pulled it out.
And noticed something I had missed.
May you like
A tiny number handwritten on the back.
17B.
