Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Vivian didn't cry.
That surprised Nadia.
Most people did when their world collapsed.
Vivian simply stared at her father.
“Tell me she's lying.”
Harrison couldn't.
“Daddy.”
His silence answered for him.
Vivian took one step backward.
“No.”
“Vivian—”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You told me Mom died in a car accident.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
Harrison's face hardened.
“From the people who killed her.”
Vivian laughed bitterly.
“You let me believe she was careless.”
“I let you believe she was dead.”
“Because she was dead!”
“Yes.”
The word fell like a stone.
Vivian covered her mouth.
Nadia watched her carefully.
For the first time, she saw the frightened woman beneath the spoiled heiress.
Harrison walked toward the study.
“Come with me.”
Nadia followed.
Vivian followed too.
Inside the study, Harrison locked the doors.
Then he opened a hidden compartment behind a bookshelf.
Inside was a black metal case.
He placed it on the desk.
“I found this three days after your mother died.”
Vivian stared.
“What's inside?”
“Everything.”
Harrison opened the case.
Documents.
Photographs.
Bank records.
A small cassette recorder.
And a handwritten note.
Nadia recognized the handwriting immediately.
Her father's.
She felt the room tilt.
Harrison noticed.
“You know this?”
Nadia swallowed.
“Yes.”
Vivian looked at her.
“How?”
Nadia picked up the note.
“My father wrote it.”
Harrison stared.
“Your father?”
Nadia nodded.
“Michael Reed.”
Vivian's face changed.
“Michael Reed was your father?”
“Yes.”
Harrison sat down heavily.
Michael Reed had once been his chief security adviser.
He had died fifteen years earlier in what authorities called a robbery gone wrong.
But Nadia had spent her entire adult life believing it was murder.
Harrison looked at the note.
“What did he know?”
Nadia unfolded it.
Only one sentence was written.
If they come for the Ashford family, trust no one inside the house.
Vivian whispered:
“Who are they?”
Before Harrison could answer, the study lights went out.
The door slammed shut.
Someone screamed in the hallway.
Nadia reached for Vivian.
“Stay behind me.”
Glass shattered downstairs.
Then came the sound of footsteps.
Multiple footsteps.
Harrison opened a drawer and pulled out a pistol.
“You're going to tell me the truth now,” Nadia said.
“I will.”
“No.”
Nadia looked directly into his eyes.
“Tell her.”
Harrison hesitated.
Then he spoke.
“Your mother's death was connected to the Ashford Foundation.”
Vivian frowned.
“How?”
“Money.”
Nadia listened.
“Twenty years ago, the foundation controlled nearly four hundred million dollars in charitable assets. Your mother discovered someone was secretly moving money through shell companies.”
“Who?”
Harrison's face tightened.
“Eleanor.”
Vivian stared.
“My aunt?”
“Yes.”
The study door suddenly shook.
Someone was trying to break it open.
Harrison whispered:
“She wasn't alone.”
Nadia's hand tightened.
“Who helped her?”
Harrison looked at Vivian.
“Your fiancé.”
Vivian froze.
“What?”
“Daniel Cross.”
Her fiancé.
The man she was supposed to marry in three weeks.
The man who had told her every night that he loved her.
The man who had spent the past year gaining access to Ashford accounts.
Vivian shook her head.
“No.”
Harrison opened another file.
Inside were photographs.
Daniel meeting Eleanor.
Daniel meeting offshore bankers.
Daniel signing documents.
And one photograph that made Vivian's blood run cold.
Daniel standing beside a hospital bed.
A woman lay beneath the sheets.
Vivian's mother.
Alive.
The photograph was dated six months ago.
Vivian's knees nearly gave out.
“My mother…”
Nadia stared at the image.
“She survived.”
Harrison nodded.
“And she's been hidden all these years.”
“Where?”
Harrison looked toward the window.
“That's the problem.”
A gunshot exploded downstairs.
Then another.
May you like
Harrison whispered:
“They found her.”
