Chapter 9
For one full second, I thought Michael had misunderstood.
“Attempted murder of who?”
“Her.”
I laughed.
I couldn't help it.
The sound came out harsh and disbelieving.
“My mother is accusing me of trying to kill her?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She says you've been threatening her since returning from overseas.”
Emma stared at him.
“He's been with me.”
Michael nodded.
“She claims there was an earlier incident.”
“What incident?”
“Apparently six months ago.”
I already knew before he said it.
One of the manufactured records.
“She says you hired someone to sabotage her car.”
I looked at Daniels.
“This is insane.”
He remained calm.
“Do not contact her.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Good.”
Michael continued.
“She provided emails.”
Of course.
“From me.”
“Yes.”
“Threatening her?”
“Yes.”
I rubbed my face.
The fake version of David Carter had evolved again.
Bad husband.
Mentally impaired businessman.
Now violent son.
“What do the emails say?”
Michael showed me screenshots.
If you keep interfering, I'll make sure you never cause trouble again.
Another.
Maybe your next drive won't be so lucky.
I stared at them.
“I didn't write this.”
“I know.”
“What date?”
He showed me.
I opened my actual travel records.
That day, I had been in Tokyo.
My phone location.
Hotel receipts.
Company meetings.
Witnesses.
Evidence.
But Mom knew there would be explanations.
That wasn't necessarily the point.
The point was noise.
Delay.
Confusion.
Make me defend myself while assets moved.
I looked at Michael.
“She's buying time.”
He nodded.
“That was my thought.”
Emma spoke.
“For Cole?”
“Maybe.”
I called Samir immediately.
“Lock down everything.”
“Already doing it.”
“No transfers. No ownership changes. Nothing without video confirmation directly from me and you.”
“Done.”
“Alert our banks again.”
“Done.”
“And if anyone uses documents saying I'm incapacitated—”
“Ignore them.”
“Don't ignore them. Report them.”
“Understood.”
At the hotel, federal investigators interviewed me about Mom's allegation.
I gave them access to everything.
Travel logs.
Messages.
My phone.
I had nothing to hide.
Then they asked about my relationship with Mom.
Had we fought before?
Yes.
Over Emma?
Occasionally.
Had I ever threatened her?
No.
Had I ever wanted her out of my life?
Not before coming home.
The truth sounded ugly, but I gave it.
Eventually they left.
No arrest.
No dramatic scene.
Just another layer of investigation.
Emma sat beside me afterward.
“She knows how to make herself look like the victim.”
“She has practice.”
“People believed her for years.”
“So did I.”
She looked at me.
I didn't look away.
“I know.”
My phone rang.
Jennifer.
Again.
This time she was whispering.
“David.”
“What happened?”
“Mom called me.”
“From where?”
“I don't know.”
“What did she say?”
“That I need to tell police you threatened her.”
My jaw tightened.
“Did I?”
“No.”
“Then don't.”
“She said if I don't, she'll tell them I was part of everything.”
I sat forward.
“Were you?”
Silence.
Emma looked at me.
“Jennifer.”
“I signed things.”
“We know.”
“More than you know.”
I closed my eyes.
“How many?”
“I don't know.”
“What were they?”
“She said they were family-company records.”
“Did you read them?”
“No.”
“Then why did you sign?”
“Because she told me you wanted us protected!”
Anger rose.
I forced it down.
“Where are you now?”
“Kyle's.”
“Is he there?”
“No.”
“Where did he go?”
“To meet someone.”
My instincts screamed.
“Who?”
“He wouldn't say.”
“Call him.”
“He isn't answering.”
“Jennifer, send me his location if you have it.”
“Why?”
“Because he witnessed forged documents and may know where Cole is.”
There was a pause.
“I share location with him.”
“Send it.”
A pin arrived.
Industrial area south of downtown.
I forwarded it to Daniels.
“Do not go there,” I told Jennifer.
She whispered, “Okay.”
Then added, “David?”
“What?”
“I know Mom did terrible things.”
“Yes.”
“But she sounds scared.”
“She should be.”
“No.”
Jennifer's voice shook.
“I mean really scared.”
I stood.
“What did she say?”
“She said Cole lied to her.”
My pulse changed.
“About what?”
“She wouldn't tell me.”
“Anything else?”
“She said she never meant for anyone to get hurt.”
Emma and I looked at each other.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
The phrase again.
I don't know.
Then Jennifer whispered, “She said your father wasn't supposed to be involved.”
My entire body froze.
“My father?”
“She kept saying, ‘Thomas wasn't part of this.’”
My father had been dead twelve years.
Unless she didn't mean the stolen identity.
Unless she meant something older.
“What exactly did she say?”
“David, she was crying. She said, ‘Thomas wasn't supposed to be involved. Marc promised me that was buried.’”
Marc Henderson.
The man Peter said had driven the car that hit him.
I felt the room shift.
“Did Mom know Marc when Dad was alive?”
“I don't know.”
I thought back.
Dad had owned a small construction company.
He and Mom had argued about money constantly in his last year.
After his death, the company collapsed quickly.
Mom said Dad had left debts.
I never questioned it.
I had been twenty-four.
Grieving.
Broke.
Trying to start my first restaurant.
“What if Blue Meridian isn't new?” Emma whispered.
I looked at her.
“The official company might be.”
“But the idea?”
Michael had entered the room during the call.
He heard enough.
“I can search older records,” he said.
He did.
Not just online databases.
Archived filings.
Old legal cases.
Property records.
Forty minutes later, he found something.
Marc Henderson had represented my father's construction company.
My father knew him.
More than knew him.
Marc had handled restructuring paperwork six months before Dad died.
I stared at the screen.
“Why didn't I know?”
“Maybe you weren't involved.”
A property transfer appeared.
One warehouse Dad's company owned had been sold to a holding company.
The holding company later dissolved.
Its manager?
Margaret Carter.
My mother.
I felt sick.
“She was moving his assets too.”
Michael wasn't ready to conclude that.
But then another record appeared.
Dad had filed a notice disputing a transfer.
Two weeks before his death.
I read the scanned court document.
Thomas Carter alleged that documents bearing his signature were unauthorized.
The room went silent.
This had happened before.
Same pattern.
Forged signature.
Asset transfer.
A legal intermediary.
My mother.
Marc Henderson.
“Dad discovered it,” I whispered.
Emma touched my arm.
Michael found the case outcome.
Dismissed.
Why?
Plaintiff deceased.
My father died before the hearing.
Heart attack.
I stood so fast the chair fell.
“No.”
Michael looked at me.
“David.”
“No.”
“We don't know what happened.”
“He accused them of forging his signature and died two weeks later.”
“That does not prove—”
“I know what it doesn't prove!”
My voice echoed.
Emma didn't flinch.
That stopped me.
I took a breath.
“Sorry.”
Michael nodded.
“We investigate.”
My phone rang.
Daniels.
“We found Kyle.”
“Is he okay?”
“Yes.”
Relief.
“Where?”
“At a warehouse.”
“With who?”
“Nobody when officers arrived.”
“What was he doing?”
“Waiting.”
“For?”
“He claims Marc Henderson contacted him.”
“Why?”
“To give him money.”
“For what?”
Daniels paused.
“To leave Dallas and stop cooperating.”
I closed my eyes.
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand.”
“Did Marc show?”
“No.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Kyle says Marc told him your mother was becoming a liability.”
The words landed hard.
A liability.
Mom had accused me of attempted murder.
Maybe because she thought that would protect her.
Or maybe because Marc told her to.
Either way, the alliance was breaking.
Which meant she might be in danger too.
I hated that I cared.
But she was still my mother.
Guilty didn't mean disposable.
“Can you locate her?”
“We're trying.”
At midnight, Jennifer called again.
This time she was screaming.
“David!”
“What?”
“Mom's here!”
“Where?”
“At Kyle's apartment!”
“Is she hurt?”
“I don't know. She's pounding on the door!”
“Don't open it.”
“She says someone is following her!”
“Call 911.”
“She won't let me!”
“Jennifer, listen to me. Call 911.”
Then I heard glass break.
Jennifer screamed.
The line went dead.
I was already moving.
Daniels told me not to go.
I went anyway.
Emma insisted on coming.
“No.”
“You are not leaving me alone tonight.”
She was right.
We met police outside Kyle's building.
The apartment door was open.
Jennifer sat in the hallway crying.
She was alive.
Mom was inside.
So was blood.
Not much.
A cut across Mom's forehead.
She stared at me when I entered.
All the arrogance was gone.
For the first time in my life, Margaret Carter looked old.
“David.”
I stopped ten feet away.
“Who did this?”
She started crying.
Not the controlled tears she'd shown police.
These were different.
“Marc.”
Every officer in the room became still.
“Marc Henderson?”
She nodded.
“Why?”
“Because I told him I was done.”
“With what?”
She looked at Emma.
Shame crossed her face.
Then she looked at me.
“It started with your father.”
My throat tightened.
“What started?”
“The money.”
She closed her eyes.
“Your father found out.”
“Found out what?”
“That Marc and I were moving assets.”
Jennifer made a broken sound.
I stared at Mom.
“You stole from Dad?”
Her face collapsed.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“I don't remember.”
“Don't lie.”
“Hundreds of thousands.”
The room tilted.
“Why?”
“He controlled everything.”
My jaw clenched.
“So you forged his name?”
“At first, only to move money where I could access it.”
“At first?”
“Marc said there were ways to protect myself.”
“Then Dad found out.”
She nodded.
“What happened?”
“I wanted to give it back.”
I didn't believe her.
“Marc didn't.”
“Dad died.”
Her whole body shook.
I took one step closer.
“Did Marc kill him?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you?”
Her head snapped up.
“No!”
“Did you drug him?”
“No!”
“Did you help Marc hurt him?”
“No!”
She was hysterical now.
“I swear, David. I stole from your father. I lied to him. I was horrible to him. But I did not kill him.”
Emma stood beside me.
Mom looked at her.
Then looked away.
“I told Marc I was leaving him after Thomas died.”
“Leaving who?”
“Marc.”
Silence.
Jennifer stared at her.
“What?”
Mom covered her face.
“I was having an affair.”
My stomach turned.
“With Marc?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Three years.”
“While Dad was alive.”
“Yes.”
Jennifer started sobbing.
Everything we knew about our family shifted.
Mom continued.
“After Thomas died, Marc handled everything. He told me there was nothing to investigate. He helped close the company.”
“And twelve years later?”
“He came back when you became successful.”
The sentence chilled me.
“He was watching me?”
“Not at first.”
“When?”
“About five years ago.”
Exactly when I left overseas.
“What did he want?”
“Access.”
“To what?”
“Your companies.”
I laughed bitterly.
“And you helped him.”
Mom looked at Emma.
“At first I wanted to protect family money.”
Emma's face hardened.
Mom continued.
“He told me Emma would take everything eventually.”
I stared at her.
“And you believed him because you wanted to.”
“Yes.”
The admission surprised me.
Mom's tears kept falling.
“He showed me how to create the accounts. How to use your old devices. How to get documents accepted.”
“Preston?”
“Worked for him.”
“Peter?”
“He wasn't part of it.”
“But you used him.”
“Yes.”
“The insurance?”
“Marc's idea.”
My blood went cold.
“The accidents overseas?”
Her eyes widened.
“I don't know.”
“Mom.”
“I swear.”
“Think carefully.”
“He would ask about your travel schedule.”
My heart stopped.
“How often?”
“A lot.”
“Why?”
“He said it was for documents.”
I looked at Daniels.
He was already writing.
Mom began shaking harder.
“After Peter started asking questions, Marc panicked.”
“Did you know he hit Peter's car?”
“No.”
“When did you find out?”
“Tonight.”
“How?”
“Marc told me.”
“Why would he tell you?”
“He wanted me to leave with him.”
“To Mexico?”
She nodded.
“Then Panama?”
Another nod.
“What changed?”
“I realized he was going to make me disappear too.”
The room went silent.
She looked at me.
“I know you hate me.”
I said nothing.
“I deserve it.”
Still nothing.
“But Marc isn't finished.”
“What does he want?”
“Your controlling interest in the restaurant group.”
“He can't get it.”
“He thinks he can.”
“How?”
Mom's face went pale.
“He has one last document.”
Michael stepped closer.
“What document?”
She looked at me.
“A transfer agreement.”
“I didn't sign it.”
“No.”
“Then it is worthless.”
Mom shook her head.
“Not if everyone believes you signed it years ago.”
“When?”
“Before you left.”
“No.”
“David.”
Her voice cracked.
“He didn't forge this one.”
My stomach tightened.
“What are you saying?”
“You did sign it.”
I stared at her.
“When?”
“The night before you left for your first overseas project.”
I remembered signing stacks of papers.
Insurance.
Banking.
Temporary management authorizations.
Documents I barely read because I trusted my family attorney.
“Who prepared it?”
“Marc.”
I looked at Michael.
He looked alarmed.
“What did it say?”
Mom whispered, “You signed away fifty-one percent of your holding company if certain conditions were met.”
“What conditions?”
She couldn't look at me.
“Incapacity.”
The same lie.
I understood.
“Marc isn't trying to forge my ownership transfer now.”
Mom shook her head.
“He's trying to activate one you really signed five years ago.”
My phone buzzed.
Samir.
I answered.
He didn't bother with hello.
“David, we received a legal notice.”
I closed my eyes.
“From Marc Henderson?”
“Yes.”
“What does it say?”
Samir's voice tightened.
“It says you have been legally declared incapacitated.”
I looked at Mom.
“And?”
“He is demanding immediate recognition of a controlling-interest transfer.”
May you like
The trap wasn't being built anymore.
It had already closed.
