Chapter 3 - THE RED FILE
Robert entered the mansion with rain on his shoulders and panic in his eyes.
“Michael, lock the doors.”
Daniel did it without asking.
Vanessa stared at Robert as if she had seen a ghost.
“You’re supposed to be in Europe.”
Robert gave her a tired smile.
“And you’re supposed to be a grieving family friend.”
I looked between them.
“You know each other.”
Vanessa said nothing.
Robert set the red file on the dining table.
“I knew your wife before you did,” he said.
“My first wife?”
“Rachel.”
My mouth went dry.
Robert opened the file.
Inside were copies of bank transfers, medical records, photographs, and a handwritten letter sealed in plastic.
On top sat a photograph of Vanessa standing beside Rachel outside a law office.
The date printed in the corner was three months before Rachel’s death.
“You told me you met Vanessa at a charity dinner a year later,” I said.
Vanessa’s chin lifted.
“I did.”
Robert shook his head.
“No. She met Rachel when Rachel hired me to investigate money missing from the Carter Family Trust.”
I felt the floor tilt beneath me.
The trust had been created by my grandfather.
It funded my company, my children’s inheritance, and the home we were standing in.
“Missing how much?”
“Fourteen million dollars.”
Daniel cursed softly.
Vanessa stepped backward.
“This is nonsense.”
Robert pulled out a transfer sheet.
The destination account belonged to a shell company called Blackwood Holdings.
Its authorized signatory was Vanessa Pierce.
Pierce had been her name before our marriage.
I looked at her.
“You were stealing from my family before Rachel died.”
“No.”
“Then explain the account.”
“I can’t explain forged documents.”
Robert slid the sealed letter toward me.
“Rachel wrote this the night before the crash.”
My hands shook as I opened it.
Michael,
If anything happens to me, do not trust the crash report.
Vanessa knows I found the Blackwood accounts.
She knows I copied everything.
And she knows where I hid the original ledger.
The letter ended with one sentence.
Ask Lily what she remembers about the red umbrella.
I looked toward my daughter.
Her face had gone pale.
“Sweetheart,” I whispered, “what red umbrella?”
Lily began to cry.
May you like
“The lady from Mommy’s car.”
Vanessa bolted for the back door.
