Chapter 4 - WHAT HAPPENED TO HARRINGTON
Callan's father had supposedly died in a boating accident.
That was the official story.
Everyone in Phoenix knew it.
I had heard it during our engagement.
Melissa always spoke about her late husband with carefully chosen sadness.
"He was a good man," she would say.
But according to Callan, the story wasn't true.
His father hadn't drowned.
He had disappeared.
The body was never recovered.
Melissa had declared him dead after six months.
Callan was twelve.
Brooklyn was nine.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Callan's voice sounded exhausted.
"Because my mother made me promise."
"What promise?"
"Never investigate."
"Why?"
"She said if I did, people would get hurt."
I thought about the hidden recordings.
The financial transfers.
The house.
Brooklyn.
The secret camera.
"Your mother knows where your father is?"
"I don't know."
"Then what does she have?"
Callan swallowed.
"A recording."
"What recording?"
"The last conversation between my father and her."
I sat in silence.
"Where is it?"
"I don't know."
"Does Brooklyn know?"
"I think so."
That was the moment I understood why Brooklyn had been so desperate to make me look unstable.
I wasn't simply an unwanted wife.
I was a witness who had stumbled into a family secret.
The next day, Detective Bennett showed me the recovered footage.
I watched the kitchen screen.
Brooklyn entered.
She placed the bottle on the counter.
Then she removed my grandmother's bracelet from her purse.
She looked toward the camera.
Then she spoke.
"I told you she'd lose control."
A man's voice answered from off-screen.
"Your mother wants the husband blamed."
Brooklyn nodded.
"Callan will believe whatever she tells him."
My hands went cold.
"Who is that?"
Detective Bennett paused the video.
"We're working on identification."
The footage continued.
Brooklyn looked toward the hallway.
"What if she sees the camera?"
"She won't."
"Then what?"
"Once the accusation sticks, Callan signs the papers."
"What papers?"
Brooklyn smiled.
"The house transfer."
I stared.
The conversation continued.
"Your mother wants Anastasia out before the anniversary."
"Why?"
"Because the safe is being opened."
I looked at Detective Bennett.
"What safe?"
She shook her head.
"We don't know yet."
The video continued.
Brooklyn picked up the bottle.
"This should make her look unstable."
My stomach turned.
"What is it?"
"Still being tested."
Then the kitchen door opened.
Melissa walked in.
Brooklyn immediately straightened.
"Everything ready?"
"Yes."
Melissa looked toward the camera.
Then she smiled.
"Good."
The recording stopped.
I felt sick.
"They planned it."
Detective Bennett nodded.
"Yes."
"And the pan?"
"Accidental."
I closed my eyes.
"So they knew the accusation would work."
"They thought it would."
"What about the safe?"
Detective Bennett placed another document on the table.
"Your grandmother's bracelet may be connected."
I looked at her.
"My bracelet?"
"Your grandmother's family owned a small manufacturing company decades ago."
I knew that.
She had told me stories.
But I had never thought it mattered.
"Apparently, that company had a business relationship with Harrington Development."
I stared.
"That's impossible."
"No."
She slid a file toward me.
"Your grandmother may have been one of the original shareholders."
I couldn't speak.
Then I remembered something.
My grandmother had always said:
"Never sell what your family built."
I had thought she meant the bracelet.
Maybe she hadn't.
Maybe she meant something else.
That evening, I went through the old box my grandmother had left me.
Photographs.
Letters.
Receipts.
A small velvet pouch.
Inside was a folded piece of paper.
I opened it.
There was one sentence.
If a Harrington ever asks you about the blueprints, don't answer.
I stared.
Blueprints.
The Harringtons owned construction companies.
I called Detective Bennett.
"I found something."
"What?"
"My grandmother left me a note."
I read it to her.
She became silent.
"Anastasia, don't go anywhere."
"Why?"
"Because I think we just found the missing connection."
"What connection?"
"The one between your family and the Harrington fortune."
Before she could say more, my front door opened.
My father entered.
His face was pale.
He looked at the note in my hand.
Then he said:
"You found it."
I stared at him.
"Found what?"
May you like
He closed the door.
"The reason your grandmother was afraid of the Harringtons."
