Chapter 5
“Uncle Thomas?”
I stared at the document.
There had to be a mistake.
Thomas Whitmore had taught me how to ride a bicycle.
He had taken me to baseball games when my father was working.
He had held my hand at my mother’s funeral.
He called every birthday.
Every Christmas.
Every time my life went wrong.
After my mother died, Uncle Thomas had been the closest thing I had to a second parent.
My father looked at Adrian.
“Verify it.”
“I already did.”
“Again.”
“Charles.”
“Again.”
Adrian didn’t argue.
He stepped into the hallway and made the call.
I watched my father.
His face was unreadable.
“Dad.”
“No.”
“You can’t ignore this.”
“I’m not ignoring anything.”
“Then tell me why Thomas owns the car.”
“I don’t know.”
Victoria shifted in the bed.
“Maybe he doesn’t know.”
My father looked at her.
“The corporation is registered through one of his private holding firms.”
My stomach tightened.
Thomas owned hundreds of companies.
So did my father.
Maybe someone had used one without his knowledge.
I wanted to believe that.
Then I remembered something.
“At the gala.”
My father turned.
“What?”
“Uncle Thomas was supposed to be there.”
“Yes.”
“He canceled.”
My father’s face changed.
“When?”
“I don’t know. I heard someone say he had a family emergency.”
Adrian returned.
“No mistake. Thomas Whitmore is the beneficial owner.”
My father took out his phone.
Called.
We listened to it ring.
Once.
Twice.
Five times.
Voicemail.
He tried again.
Nothing.
“Where is he?” my father asked.
Adrian looked at his own phone.
“His security team says he left his residence at 8:14 p.m.”
“With whom?”
“Alone.”
“Vehicle?”
“His personal SUV.”
“Track it.”
“Already doing it.”
My father looked at me.
“You are coming home.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Emma.”
“I’m going with you.”
“To where?”
“Thomas.”
“We don’t know where he is.”
“Then find him.”
My father’s voice became hard.
“You are not confronting my brother.”
“I’m not asking permission.”
He stared at me.
Twenty minutes later, we were inside Adrian’s mobile security command room beneath Whitmore Global headquarters.
A wall of screens showed traffic cameras, building security feeds, and vehicle tracking systems.
Adrian’s team located Thomas’s SUV near the old Whitmore family estate outside the city.
The place had been empty for years.
My grandfather built it.
My father hated it.
Thomas loved it.
“Why there?” I asked.
My father didn’t answer.
I looked at him.
“Dad.”
“That house was where Thomas and I grew up.”
“I know that.”
“There are things there I haven’t thought about in years.”
“What things?”
He rubbed his jaw.
“Our father kept records.”
“What kind?”
“Everything.”
Adrian looked at him.
“Financial?”
“Personal too.”
I remembered my grandfather only vaguely.
Edmund Whitmore.
Cold.
Strict.
A man who believed family was another division of the company.
He died when I was twelve.
“What does that have to do with Mom?”
My father’s eyes darkened.
“Your grandfather never liked Eleanor.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“She questioned him.”
“That sounds like Mom.”
“It was.”
“Did he know Rachel Mercer?”
My father hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
I stared at him.
“That means yes.”
“It means I don’t know.”
Adrian interrupted.
“We need to move.”
The drive to the old estate took forty-five minutes.
Rain had started.
Of course it had.
The mansion appeared through the trees like something from another life.
Dark windows.
Stone walls.
One upstairs light.
Thomas’s SUV was parked near the side entrance.
We stopped behind it.
Adrian turned to me.
“Stay behind me.”
I nodded.
My father gave me a look.
“What?”
“You never listen.”
“I nodded.”
“That’s what worries me.”
The front door was unlocked.
Inside, the house smelled like dust and old wood.
“Thomas?” my father called.
No answer.
We moved through the hallway.
A light glowed beneath the library door.
Adrian opened it first.
Thomas stood beside the fireplace.
Alone.
He held a glass of whiskey.
When he saw us, he sighed.
“I wondered how long it would take.”
My father stopped.
“What the hell is going on?”
Thomas looked at me.
“You shouldn’t be here, Emma.”
I felt betrayed before he said anything else.
“Your company owns the car Madeline disappeared from.”
Thomas drank.
“I know.”
My father stepped forward.
“Explain.”
Thomas placed the glass down.
“I gave her the car.”
“Why?”
“Because she asked me for help.”
“When?”
“Three days ago.”
“With what?”
“She said she needed somewhere Charles couldn’t trace.”
My father’s expression turned dangerous.
“You helped my fiancée hide from me?”
“She was afraid of you.”
My father stared at him.
“That is ridiculous.”
Thomas shook his head.
“No, Charles. She was afraid of what you’d do when you discovered who she was.”
Silence.
I looked at him.
“You knew she was Rachel.”
Thomas’s eyes moved to mine.
“Yes.”
My father lunged forward.
Adrian stepped between them.
“You knew?”
Thomas didn’t flinch.
“For twenty-three years.”
My father shoved Adrian aside.
“You knew she was alive?”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing?”
“Yes.”
My father punched him.
Thomas crashed against the desk.
“Dad!”
Adrian grabbed my father.
Thomas touched his split lip.
Then laughed bitterly.
“There he is.”
My father struggled against Adrian.
“You let that woman into my home.”
Thomas straightened.
“I tried to keep her away from you.”
“You were at our engagement dinner!”
“Because when she returned, I realized stopping her wasn’t an option.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
Thomas looked at me.
“It means Madeline isn’t the person you should be afraid of.”
My father went still.
“Who is?”
Thomas walked to the desk.
Opened a drawer.
Pulled out a thick envelope.
He placed it on the table.
“Our father.”
I stared at him.
“Grandpa is dead.”
Thomas looked at me.
“Yes.”
“But the thing he built isn’t.”
My father’s face hardened.
“Enough riddles.”
Thomas opened the envelope.
Inside were copies of bank statements.
Trust agreements.
Corporate records.
Photographs.
One showed my mother standing beside Madeline.
Another showed my grandfather.
And beside him, the man from an old newspaper clipping.
A younger version of someone I knew.
Adrian.
I stared at him.
“What?”
Adrian’s face went completely still.
My father turned slowly.
“Cole?”
Thomas smiled without humor.
“Ask your security chief why he was working for our father the year Eleanor died.”
My heart stopped.
Adrian looked at my father.
“I can explain.”
My father stepped away from him.
“Start.”
Adrian remained calm.
“I worked private security before I joined federal service.”
“For my father?”
“For several clients.”
“You never told me.”
“You never asked.”
My father’s eyes flashed.
“My wife died that year.”
“I know.”
“And you worked for the man who hated her.”
Adrian’s voice lowered.
“That is why I eventually came to work for you.”
“What?”
Thomas laughed.
“Oh, this should be good.”
Adrian ignored him.
“Your father hired my firm to monitor Eleanor.”
I felt sick.
“Monitor my mother?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He believed she was gathering evidence against him.”
My father stared.
“Evidence of what?”
Adrian looked at Thomas.
Thomas nodded slightly.
Adrian answered.
“Money laundering.”
The room went silent.
My father shook his head.
“My father was ruthless. He wasn’t stupid.”
“He was both.”
Thomas opened another file.
“Eleanor discovered the Whitmore Foundation was being used to move illegal money.”
“By Grandpa?”
“Yes.”
“Where does Madeline fit?”
Thomas looked at me.
“She was helping your mother.”
Everything stopped.
“What?”
“Rachel Mercer wasn’t stealing from the company.”
Thomas tapped the documents.
“She was collecting evidence.”
I thought about my mother’s letter.
I made the mistake of trusting one of them.
“Then why did Mom warn me about her?”
Thomas’s face changed.
“Because Rachel betrayed her.”
My father gripped the edge of the desk.
“How?”
Thomas looked toward Adrian.
Adrian answered.
“She gave Edmund the location of Eleanor’s evidence.”
My throat tightened.
“Did she know he would hurt Mom?”
“No one knows.”
“You know.”
My voice rose.
“You were there.”
Adrian looked at me.
“I was assigned to follow your mother the night she died.”
My father’s entire body stiffened.
“What did you just say?”
Adrian didn’t move.
“I followed Eleanor’s car.”
My father crossed the room in two steps and grabbed his jacket.
“You watched my wife die?”
“No.”
“Did you cause the crash?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
Adrian’s eyes lowered.
“I don’t know.”
My father shoved him away.
“Liar.”
“I lost visual contact twelve minutes before the crash.”
“Convenient.”
“It has haunted me for twenty-three years.”
I stepped between them.
“Enough.”
Both men looked at me.
I felt like my chest was breaking.
“Everyone in this room knows something about my mother’s death except me.”
No one spoke.
“I’m done with secrets.”
I looked at Thomas.
“You knew Madeline was alive.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she came back.”
“Yes.”
“You gave her a car.”
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did she come back?”
Thomas hesitated.
“Because your father announced the engagement publicly.”
I stared at him.
“That makes no sense.”
“It does if you understand what she wanted.”
“What?”
Thomas looked at my father.
“To get inside the family.”
My mother’s letter echoed in my mind.
I believe she wants the family itself.
“Why?”
Thomas pulled one final photograph from the envelope.
He slid it toward me.
I looked down.
My mother was sitting in a hospital room.
She held a newborn baby.
My father stood beside her.
But the date printed on the bottom was wrong.
It was two years before I was born.
I looked up.
“What is this?”
My father had turned white.
Thomas stared at him.
“You never told her?”
“Told me what?”
My voice cracked.
My father couldn’t speak.
Thomas did.
“Emma, you weren’t Eleanor’s first child.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“She had a son.”
The room tilted.
“Where is he?”
Thomas looked toward the dark window.
“No one knows.”
My father whispered, “He died.”
Thomas turned.
“No, Charles.”
My father’s face changed.
Thomas continued.
“That’s what Father wanted you to believe.”
Then we heard a sound upstairs.
A floorboard.
Adrian immediately drew his weapon.
Everyone froze.
Another sound.
Footsteps.
Someone was inside the house.
Adrian motioned for us to stay back.
He moved toward the door.
Then a woman’s voice came from the upper hallway.
Weak.
Terrified.
“Emma?”
I knew that voice.
Madeline.
I ran before anyone could stop me.
I reached the stairs.
Madeline stood at the top.
Her silver gala dress was torn.
Blood marked one side of her face.
She gripped the railing.
Then she looked past me toward my father.
“He found me.”
My father stared up.
“Who?”
May you like
Madeline’s eyes filled with terror.
“Eleanor’s son.”
