Chapter 7
The door exploded inward.
Not from a weapon.
From security officers tackling someone against it from the hallway.
Agent Brooks pushed me lower in the bed.
“Stay down.”
Mom moved toward the door.
“Rebecca!” I screamed.
She stopped.
That single second may have saved her life.
A small metal object rolled through the doorway.
Brooks kicked it backward immediately.
“Clear!”
Security dragged the intruder away.
The object turned out to be a phone.
Not an explosive.
On its screen was a video already playing.
Mom picked it up only after Brooks signaled that it was safe.
A man appeared.
Older.
Gray hair.
Thin face.
A scar near his left temple.
I had seen him in family photographs.
Patrick Walker.
Ryan’s uncle.
Alive.
He smiled into the camera.
“Hello, Rebecca.”
Mom’s face hardened.
The recording continued.
“If you’re watching this, then my nephew has failed at something simple.”
I felt nauseated.
“He was always emotional. Like his mother.”
Diane.
“He was supposed to gain access, move the assets, and disappear quietly.”
My hands started shaking.
“Instead, I assume he lost his temper.”
Mom looked at me.
The video continued.
“Do not mistake Ryan for the architect. He is a tool.”
I whispered, “Oh my God.”
Patrick smiled.
“And tools are disposable.”
The recording ended.
Brooks immediately bagged the phone.
Mom stood motionless.
I watched her.
“This is because of you.”
The words came out before I could stop them.
Pain crossed her face.
I hated myself instantly.
“Emma—”
“No. I need to understand.”
“I know.”
“Did Patrick target me because you investigated him?”
“Possibly.”
“Did Ryan marry me because of that?”
“We still don’t know.”
I laughed bitterly.
“He spent four years asking about you. He stole your tablet. His uncle just sent you a message from my hospital floor. How much more do we need?”
Mom sat.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked away.
She had said those words before.
They didn’t fix anything.
But they mattered.
“Did you know Patrick was dangerous?”
“Yes.”
“How dangerous?”
“Dangerous enough that I believed he would avoid returning to the United States.”
“And you never thought he’d come after your family?”
“I took precautions.”
“What precautions?”
“Your information was removed from some public records. Security protocols. Monitoring.”
“Did you monitor Ryan?”
“Not illegally.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I ran a standard background check before you married him.”
My mouth fell open.
“You what?”
“I had concerns.”
“You investigated my boyfriend?”
“I verified public and authorized records.”
“Without telling me?”
“Yes.”
I wanted to scream.
My mother and husband suddenly looked different but disturbingly similar in one way.
Both had decided what I needed to know.
Both had kept secrets “for my protection.”
“I’m tired of people protecting me with lies.”
Mom’s face fell.
“You’re right.”
The doctor entered with two nurses.
“Everyone who is not medically required needs to clear this room for five minutes.”
Nobody argued.
Mom squeezed my hand and left.
The doctor checked me again.
The contractions had strengthened.
Stress.
Trauma.
Exhaustion.
My body had limits.
“You are not in active labor yet,” Dr. Patel said. “But your uterus is irritable, and the baby has had two brief heart-rate decelerations.”
“What happens if it gets worse?”
“We deliver.”
My eyes filled.
“She’s too early.”
“Thirty-four weeks is premature, but outcomes are generally very good with proper neonatal support.”
I nodded.
“Can I do anything?”
“Rest.”
I almost laughed.
“I know. Not easy tonight.”
She touched my shoulder.
“We’ll handle the medical side. Let other people handle everything else.”
For the next hour, I tried.
I really tried.
Then Major Cole returned.
He brought news I never expected.
Ryan wanted to speak with me.
“No.”
My answer was immediate.
“He says he has information about the threat against you.”
“Then he can tell you.”
“He claims he’ll only tell you directly.”
Mom’s jaw tightened.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“You don’t get to decide.”
She stopped.
I hated that Ryan knew me well enough to manipulate me even from custody.
But if he knew something that could protect my daughter, I needed it.
“Video call,” I said.
Major Cole hesitated.
“Emma.”
“Recorded. Monitored. No private conversation.”
Mom looked at Brooks.
Brooks nodded.
“We can arrange that.”
Twenty minutes later, a secure tablet sat on the tray table.
Ryan appeared on screen.
He wore a gray detention shirt.
His wrists were cuffed to a waist chain.
His cheek was slightly swollen from Mom’s punch.
When he saw me, he started crying.
Actually crying.
“Emma.”
I felt nothing.
That frightened me.
“I have five minutes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Four minutes and fifty seconds.”
His face crumpled.
“I never wanted this.”
“You shoved me while I was eight months pregnant.”
“I lost control.”
“You cheated on me.”
“I made mistakes.”
“You put a two-million-dollar policy on my life.”
His eyes changed.
There.
A tiny hesitation.
“I can explain.”
“Then explain.”
“It wasn’t supposed to hurt you.”
I laughed.
“That sentence should be impossible.”
“North Ridge needed collateral.”
“Using my death?”
“No.”
“Then why insure me?”
“Patrick arranged it.”
“Your dead uncle?”
Ryan closed his eyes.
“I was told never to mention him.”
“By Diane?”
He looked away.
There it was again.
“Your mother knew?”
“She knows some things.”
“Did she know about Claire?”
“Yes.”
“Did she know you married me because of my mother?”
Ryan stared at me.
I held my breath.
“Answer.”
He began crying harder.
“At first.”
The world stopped.
Mom moved behind me.
I lifted my hand.
Don’t.
I looked at the screen.
“What does ‘at first’ mean?”
“Patrick found out who you were.”
“When?”
“Before our first date.”
I felt physically sick.
“He told me to get close.”
“Why?”
“To learn about your mother.”
“And you agreed?”
“I owed him.”
“For what?”
“He paid debts for my family. Helped my career. He had leverage.”
“That doesn’t answer why you married me.”
Ryan looked shattered.
“Because I fell in love with you.”
I laughed.
“No.”
“I did.”
“No.”
“Emma, I swear.”
“You spent our entire relationship spying on my family.”
“At first.”
“Stop saying that!”
My voice triggered another contraction.
A nurse looked toward me.
I raised a hand.
“I’m okay.”
Ryan stared.
“What happened?”
“Nothing you have the right to ask about.”
He flinched.
I continued.
“Why did you need my signature?”
Ryan looked off camera.
Major Cole’s voice came through.
“Answer her.”
Ryan swallowed.
“Patrick moved money into accounts attached to shell companies.”
“Under my name?”
“Some.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Lie.”
“Maybe fourteen million.”
My mouth went dry.
Mom swore.
“Fourteen million dollars?”
“It passed through. It wasn’t sitting there.”
“You used my identity to launder money?”
“I didn’t create the structure.”
“You used it.”
“Yes.”
The word destroyed the last tiny part of me still hoping there was some misunderstanding.
“What was supposed to happen after I signed the transfer?”
Ryan went silent.
“Ryan.”
His eyes filled.
“What was supposed to happen to me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Liar.”
“Emma—”
“What was supposed to happen?”
His face broke.
“Patrick said there would be an accident.”
Mom stood so fast the chair fell backward.
I couldn’t breathe.
Ryan rushed forward against his restraints.
“But I told him no.”
“You told him no?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Last week.”
“After seven months with Claire?”
He closed his eyes.
“I was going to get you out.”
“How?”
“I was going to make you leave me.”
My stomach turned.
“The fights.”
He nodded.
“You were trying to make me leave?”
“At the end.”
“At the end?”
“I needed you away from the house.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Patrick watches everything.”
My mind went to the photos.
The calls.
The car.
“Was something wrong with my brakes?”
Ryan started sobbing.
“Ryan.”
“Yes.”
Mom made a sound I had never heard from her.
Not anger.
Pain.
“Did you do it?” I whispered.
“No. Patrick’s man did.”
“The vitamins?”
“I don’t know.”
“Diane?”
“I don’t know.”
“Stop lying!”
“I swear!”
Major Cole stepped into view.
“Last question.”
I stared at Ryan.
“Where is Patrick?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then you’ve wasted my time.”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“There’s a safe.”
“Where?”
“In my mother’s house.”
Diane.
“What’s inside?”
“Patrick’s backup records.”
Major Cole leaned closer.
“Location?”
Ryan spoke quickly.
“Basement wall. Behind the furnace panel.”
I studied him.
“Why tell us now?”
He looked at me.
“Because he’ll kill you.”
My blood turned cold.
“And because there’s one thing in that safe you need to see.”
“What?”
Ryan swallowed.
“A birth certificate.”
I frowned.
“Whose?”
His answer made my mother grab the edge of the bed.
“Mine.”
I stared at him.
“So?”
Ryan’s voice dropped.
“Patrick Walker isn’t my uncle.”
May you like
He looked directly into the camera.
“He’s my father.”
