Chapter 6
Daniel Monroe had been dead for thirteen years.
Yet his voice filled the study as if he were sitting beside Emily.
“I know what this sounds like.”
Static crackled.
“Maybe that’s why I’m recording it.”
Emily held herself perfectly still.
“If anyone sees Gabriel paying me, they’ll assume I sold Grace.”
Agent Mitchell wrote quickly.
Daniel continued.
“That’s what I need Gabriel to believe.”
Emily whispered, “Dad.”
“I opened an account under my name.”
Paper rustled on the tape.
“The money won’t stay there.”
Emily remembered Agent Mitchell saying every payment had disappeared almost immediately.
“I’m moving it into trusts Gabriel can’t see.”
Mitchell looked up.
“For Emily.”
Emily covered her mouth.
Daniel’s recorded voice softened.
“If I die before she’s old enough to understand, I want that money used for one thing.”
A pause.
“Finding the truth.”
Emily cried.
Daniel continued.
“Gabriel thinks money makes people loyal.”
A quiet laugh.
“He never understood Grace.”
Another pause.
“He never understood me either.”
Emily wiped her tears.
“But he understands fear.”
Daniel’s voice changed.
“Catherine called tonight.”
Victoria’s mother.
“She found something inside Ashford Capital.”
Mitchell leaned closer.
“A transfer authorized by someone using Charles Harrington’s credentials.”
Emily went cold.
Michael whispered, “Jesus.”
Daniel continued.
“Grace thinks Charles may be involved.”
Emily stared at the tape.
“I don’t.”
Charles.
Emily felt dizzy.
Daniel said, “Charles is arrogant. Controlling. Stubborn enough to make a saint swear.”
Despite everything, Emily almost smiled.
“But he loves Grace.”
Her eyes filled again.
“And whatever else is wrong with Charles Harrington, I don’t believe he would knowingly put his daughter in danger.”
Emily released the breath she had been holding.
“Richard is harder.”
Agent Mitchell looked toward the closed door.
“He lies when he’s afraid.”
Daniel paused.
“And he has been afraid for a long time.”
Emily looked at Mitchell.
“But I still don’t think Richard is Gabriel’s partner.”
“Then who?” Emily whispered.
The tape answered.
“Peter Caldwell.”
Emily froze.
The dead CFO whose credential had been used at the gala.
Daniel continued.
“He works under Gabriel.”
Michael stood.
“Caldwell joined Harrington two years after Gabriel supposedly left.”
Mitchell nodded.
Daniel’s recording continued.
“Caldwell is the connection.”
Emily leaned toward the player.
“He controls the internal audits. He controls employee access. He can make records disappear.”
Michael cursed under his breath.
“That explains everything.”
Daniel continued.
“But Caldwell isn’t the top.”
Emily looked at Mitchell.
“There’s someone above him.”
Silence.
Then Daniel said, “I don’t know the name yet.”
Emily closed her eyes.
Twenty-five years.
The answer had almost been there.
The tape clicked off.
Agent Mitchell immediately opened the door.
“Bring Charles and Richard back.”
Emily stopped her.
“No.”
Mitchell looked surprised.
“We have information clearing some suspicion from Charles.”
“Some.”
“Emily.”
“My mother said trust behavior, not explanations.”
Mitchell considered her.
Then nodded.
“You want to test them.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Emily looked at the blue box.
“Give them different information.”
Michael understood.
“A leak test.”
“Exactly.”
Mitchell smiled slightly.
“You think like your mother.”
Emily looked at the rabbit.
“I’m starting to understand why she never slept.”
They told Charles that Daniel’s tape identified an abandoned storage facility in Queens.
They told Richard it identified an old Ashford Capital archive in Brooklyn.
Neither location was real.
Mitchell assigned teams to monitor both.
Then they waited.
By morning, snow had begun falling.
Emily had not slept.
Victoria found her in the kitchen drinking coffee.
“Anything?”
Emily shook her head.
“Nothing I can discuss.”
Victoria poured coffee.
“I suppose that means you still think my father might be involved.”
“I think everyone might be.”
“Me too?”
Emily looked at her.
“You tore my dress twelve hours ago because I annoyed you.”
Victoria winced.
“Fair.”
She sat.
For several minutes they drank in silence.
Then Victoria said, “My mother used to tell me never to confuse attention with respect.”
Emily looked at her.
“Did you listen?”
“Obviously not.”
Emily smiled despite herself.
Victoria smiled too.
It vanished quickly.
“I hated her when she got sick.”
Emily waited.
“I was thirteen.”
Victoria stared into her coffee.
“She stopped letting me visit near the end.”
“That must have hurt.”
“I thought she didn’t want me.”
Emily understood immediately.
“But she was protecting you.”
Victoria laughed softly.
“Apparently that disease runs in our families.”
Emily looked down.
“Maybe protection without truth is just another kind of damage.”
Victoria nodded.
“My father loved secrets.”
“So did my grandfather.”
“And our mothers died carrying them.”
The women looked at each other.
Something shifted.
Not friendship.
Not yet.
But recognition.
Agent Mitchell entered quickly.
“We got movement.”
Emily stood.
“Where?”
“Both places.”
Her hope collapsed.
“Both?”
“Two separate teams.”
Victoria frowned.
“So Charles and Dad both leaked?”
“Or someone is monitoring communications.”
Mitchell handed Emily a secure tablet.
Camera footage showed a man entering the fake Queens location.
Another vehicle stopped near the Brooklyn address.
Emily watched.
“Who are they?”
“We’re identifying them.”
Michael entered.
His face was pale.
“Emily.”
“What?”
“We found Peter Caldwell’s death certificate.”
“And?”
“It’s fake.”
The room went silent.
Victoria whispered, “He’s alive?”
“Yes.”
Mitchell grabbed her phone.
Michael continued.
“And the physician who signed it was paid by a Harrington subsidiary.”
Emily stared.
“Which one?”
Michael looked directly at her.
“The Grace Harrington Children’s Medical Fund.”
Charles’s foundation.
Emily felt fury rise.
“Someone used my mother’s charity to fake a death.”
“Yes.”
Victoria swore.
Emily walked toward the window.
“Where is Caldwell?”
Mitchell was already issuing instructions.
Then Emily noticed a vehicle approaching the estate.
Black sedan.
No escort.
Security converged.
Arthur appeared in the hall.
“Someone’s at the gate.”
Mitchell ordered everyone away from the windows.
The sedan stopped.
A woman stepped out.
Early sixties.
Gray hair.
Long coat.
Arthur made a sound.
“Oh my God.”
Victoria turned.
“What?”
Arthur stared.
“Mrs. Ashford.”
Victoria laughed.
“What?”
Richard entered behind her.
He saw the woman outside.
Then he collapsed into a chair.
“No.”
Victoria looked between them.
“What are you saying?”
Richard whispered, “Catherine.”
Victoria’s coffee cup slipped from her hand and shattered.
Emily stared through the window.
The woman looked older than the photographs.
Thinner.
Scar across one cheek.
But unmistakable.
Catherine Ashford.
The woman who had supposedly died of cancer seventeen years earlier.
Victoria ran toward the door.
Agents stopped her.
“Mom!”
The woman outside lifted both hands.
She was crying.
Richard stumbled forward.
“No.”
Victoria fought against security.
“That’s my mother!”
Mitchell ordered a biometric check.
The woman provided fingerprints.
DNA swab.
Old identification.
Twenty minutes felt like twenty years.
Then Mitchell returned.
Her face said everything.
Victoria whispered, “Is it her?”
Mitchell nodded.
“The preliminary fingerprint match confirms Catherine Ashford.”
Victoria broke.
She ran.
This time nobody stopped her.
Catherine entered the foyer.
Victoria crashed into her arms.
The sound that came from Victoria was not a word.
It was seventeen years of grief tearing open.
Catherine held her daughter.
“I’m sorry.”
Victoria sobbed.
“You died.”
“I know.”
“You died!”
“I know, baby.”
“You left me.”
Catherine cried.
“I had to.”
Richard stood twenty feet away.
Catherine looked at him.
Their eyes met.
Richard whispered, “You’re alive.”
She nodded.
He looked furious.
Then relieved.
Then devastated.
“You let me bury you.”
Catherine’s voice became cold.
“You were safer grieving me.”
Richard laughed bitterly.
“Don’t.”
She looked at him.
“Don’t use the protection excuse?”
Silence.
Victoria turned.
“Where have you been?”
“Canada. England. Portugal.”
“For seventeen years?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Catherine looked toward Emily.
Everything stopped.
“You must be Grace’s daughter.”
Emily nodded.
Catherine crossed the foyer slowly.
She touched Emily’s face.
Tears filled her eyes.
“You look so much like her.”
Emily swallowed.
“Did you know my mother was going to die?”
Catherine’s hand dropped.
“No.”
“Did you know Gabriel threatened her?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you disappear?”
Catherine glanced at Richard.
“Because after Grace died, I found proof that someone was still watching our family.”
Victoria whispered, “Gabriel?”
Catherine looked at her.
“No.”
Everyone froze.
Emily stepped closer.
“Who?”
Catherine removed a folded photograph from inside her coat.
She handed it to Emily.
The image showed Peter Caldwell.
Gabriel Vale.
And a third person.
A woman.
Emily stared.
She recognized her.
Everyone did.
The woman was Margaret Harrington.
Charles’s late wife.
Emily’s grandmother.
Charles entered the foyer.
He saw Catherine.
Stopped.
Then saw the photograph.
His face changed.
May you like
Catherine looked directly at him.
“Your wife was the one financing Gabriel.”
