Chapter 6
Police found the lake house before sunrise.
Victoria Carter was not there.
But someone had been.
A laptop burned in the fireplace.
Documents shredded.
Security cameras ripped from the walls.
The refrigerator still contained fresh groceries.
According to investigators, whoever left had done so only hours earlier.
Dad didn't tell me all the details.
I learned most of them from overhearing his phone calls.
Ridgeway remained closed.
The scandal spread.
Three families came forward claiming disciplinary reports had been buried.
A former teacher said she'd been pressured to change Madison's grade.
Another administrator resigned.
Ms. Aldridge hired a criminal defense attorney.
Victoria remained missing.
And Chloe?
She kept posting.
That surprised me.
Her parents had apparently taken away her phone.
It didn't matter.
She found another.
Her newest video accused Madison of blaming everyone else to save herself.
Then she turned on me.
“Emma acts innocent, but ask why she trained to fight for years.”
I stared at the screen.
What did that even mean?
Noah laughed.
“That's her argument?”
I wasn't amused.
We sat in my kitchen doing homework because classes had gone remote.
Dad insisted Noah's presence was “security neutral.”
I knew he liked him.
He just wouldn't admit it.
Chloe continued.
“Normal girls don't know how to put someone on the floor like that.”
Noah paused the video.
“She really thinks martial arts are evidence of conspiracy.”
“My dad taught me.”
“What style?”
“Judo first. Then boxing.”
He looked impressed.
“Remind me never to steal your pencil.”
I smiled.
My phone rang.
Charles Carter.
I didn't answer.
He called again.
Then Dad came in.
“He's called me too.”
“Why?”
“He says Madison is missing.”
I stood.
“What?”
Noah closed his laptop.
“She was staying with her aunt.”
Dad nodded.
“She left sometime during the night.”
“Did she take anything?”
“Her phone.”
“Can they track it?”
“Turned off.”
My stomach twisted.
“Victoria?”
“We don't know.”
The police were already searching.
Dad didn't want me involved.
I was involved anyway.
At 9:17 a.m., an email appeared in my inbox.
No subject.
No sender name.
One sentence.
SHE LIED TO YOU.
Attached was an audio file.
Dad told me not to open it.
We opened it with his security team instead.
Madison's voice played.
“I need Emma to trust me.”
Then a man's voice.
Unfamiliar.
“Why?”
“Because she'll tell me what her father knows.”
The recording ended.
I felt punched.
Dad stared at the speaker.
“When was this recorded?”
The technicians examined the file.
Timestamp: three days earlier.
Before Madison came to our house.
Before she apologized.
Before she brought evidence.
My chest tightened.
“She used me.”
Dad didn't say anything.
Noah looked uncertain.
“The file could be edited.”
Dad nodded.
“We verify.”
But emotionally, verification came too late.
I had started believing Madison.
Not forgiving her.
Not trusting her completely.
But believing something inside her had changed.
Now I felt stupid.
Again.
An hour later, forensic analysts found no obvious cuts in the recording.
Dad still warned that didn't prove context.
I didn't care.
I texted Madison.
WHERE ARE YOU?
No answer.
DID YOU COME HERE TO SPY ON US?
Nothing.
Then her phone turned on.
My message showed delivered.
A reply appeared.
YES.
I stared.
Dad saw.
Another message.
AT FIRST.
Then:
PLEASE LET ME EXPLAIN.
I typed.
WHERE ARE YOU?
No answer.
WHERE ARE YOU?
A location pin arrived.
Boston Harbor.
Dad immediately called police.
“No,” another message came.
DON'T BRING THEM.
Dad ignored it.
Security and police were moving within minutes.
I wasn't going.
At least, that was the plan.
Then Madison called me.
I answered on speaker.
“Emma.”
“Where are you?”
“Don't let your dad send police.”
“Too late.”
She swore.
“Listen to me. My mom contacted me.”
Dad motioned for me to keep her talking.
“What did she say?”
“She wants the backpack.”
“The police have it.”
“I know.”
“Then why meet you?”
“Because she doesn't know that.”
My heart pounded.
“You're baiting her?”
“I thought I could.”
“You're seventeen!”
“So are you.”
“That doesn't make it better!”
She laughed nervously.
For one second, she sounded like a normal girl.
Then I heard footsteps near her.
Her breathing changed.
“Madison?”
“I have to go.”
“No.”
“Emma, listen.”
Her voice dropped.
“The recording is real.”
I closed my eyes.
“I know.”
“I did come to your house because she told me to.”
Dad's face hardened.
“But I changed my mind.”
“When?”
Silence.
“When?”
“When you told me about your mom.”
My throat tightened.
Madison continued.
“My mother told me everybody has a price.”
A car door slammed near her.
“She said yours was dignity.”
“Madison—”
“She said your father's was you.”
Footsteps approached faster.
“And she said mine was her approval.”
Madison started crying.
“She was right for a long time.”
The line suddenly filled with noise.
A woman's voice shouted.
“Give me the phone!”
Madison screamed.
Then the call disconnected.
Dad grabbed his keys.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Emma.”
“She'll talk to me.”
“Absolutely not.”
I looked at him.
“If Victoria sees police, she runs.”
“She may already have Madison.”
“Then she'll answer me.”
Dad swore under his breath.
“You're not bait.”
“I know.”
“That's exactly what you're proposing.”
I stepped closer.
“You can't protect me from everything.”
His face broke for half a second.
“I know.”
That was the problem.
He knew.
He had already lost Mom.
He couldn't control cancer.
Couldn't control time.
Couldn't stop what happened.
Now every threat to me reopened that wound.
I softened.
“Dad.”
“No.”
“I don't need to get close.”
“No.”
“I can call her.”
He hesitated.
That was enough.
We compromised.
From a secure location, I called Madison's phone.
No answer.
Again.
Third time.
Victoria answered.
“Emma.”
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
I had heard it before at school events.
Warm.
Elegant.
Perfect.
Now it made my skin crawl.
“Where's Madison?”
“Safe.”
“Let me talk to her.”
“You sound exactly like your father.”
“Good.”
Victoria laughed.
“He always thinks he can demand things.”
“What do you want?”
“A conversation.”
“You forged the email.”
“Allegedly.”
“You leaked my information.”
“Did I?”
“You targeted me.”
Pause.
“That depends how dramatic you'd like to be.”
Dad's fist clenched.
I kept going.
“Why?”
“Because your father ruined my husband's company.”
Dad looked confused.
I mouthed, Did you?
He shook his head.
Victoria continued.
“Daniel Bennett destroys people and then pretends he's moral.”
Dad leaned toward the phone.
“Victoria.”
She went silent.
“Charles destroyed his own company.”
“You refused to save it.”
“I refused to invest in a failing business built on fraudulent numbers.”
Charles hadn't told us that.
Victoria's voice sharpened.
“You humiliated us.”
“No. Your husband lied to investors.”
I felt a cold realization.
This wasn't about business.
It was about revenge.
Victoria said, “Give me the files Madison stole.”
“They're with police.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Then Victoria laughed.
“You really think she gave them everything?”
Dad looked at me.
My stomach dropped.
“What does that mean?”
“Ask Madison.”
“Put her on.”
“Not yet.”
The call ended.
Seconds later, Madison's phone sent one photo.
A storage locker.
Number 318.
Then a text:
SHE DOESN'T KNOW I SENT THIS.
Dad immediately forwarded it to police.
Investigators found the locker ninety minutes later.
Inside were boxes of documents.
Hard drives.
Cash.
And one envelope with my father's name.
Dad opened it in front of investigators.
Inside was a contract.
Signed by Charles Carter.
And another businessman.
The agreement outlined a plan to manipulate Bennett Technologies' stock through false claims.
Dad read the second signature.
His face went white.
I had never seen that happen.
“Who is it?”
He didn't answer.
“Dad.”
He handed me the paper.
I recognized the name immediately.
Thomas Bennett.
My uncle.
Dad's older brother.
May you like
The man who had disappeared from our lives after Mom died.
The man Dad had told me never to trust.
