Chapter 2 - MY FATHER’S LAST KEY
I laughed.
It came out wrong.
Thin.
Shaking.
“My father died seven years ago.”
Daniel nodded.
“I know.”
“He didn’t hide anything.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
The answer came too fast.
Daniel noticed.
So did I.
A memory pushed through the panic.
My father in the hospital.
His hand cold around mine.
A little brass key pressed into my palm.
Don’t give this to Victoria.
I had been seventeen.
Terrified.
I thought he was confused.
I hid the key inside an old music box.
Then forgot about it.
Until now.
Daniel watched my face.
“What did you remember?”
“Nothing.”
He did not challenge me.
That made me trust him slightly more.
Bad idea.
We reached a private medical clinic before midnight.
No sign outside.
No waiting room full of people.
Daniel’s doctor photographed my injuries.
Bruised cheek.
Cut feet.
Scraped hip.
Marks on my wrist.
Every click of the camera made me feel less like a person and more like evidence.
The doctor asked if I wanted police.
I said yes.
Then no.
Then yes again.
Daniel stood near the door.
He did not interrupt.
When the doctor left, I asked.
“Why are you helping me?”
Daniel took a second.
“Because Victoria crossed a line.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.”
He sat opposite me.
“My company bought your family’s debt four months ago.”
“Why?”
“Because someone was draining Carter-Lane Manufacturing.”
I stared.
“That’s my father’s company.”
“It was.”
The word hurt.
Daniel continued.
“Your stepmother told the board the losses came from failed expansion.”
“They did.”
“No.”
He slid a folder across the table.
Shell companies.
Consulting invoices.
Transfers.
Millions.
All approved after Dad became sick.
Victoria’s signature appeared everywhere.
Then Lawrence Ambrose’s.
My hands went cold.
“What is this?”
“Your inheritance being stolen.”
I looked up.
Daniel’s voice stayed quiet.
“Your father left controlling shares to you.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Victoria owns the company.”
“She controls it.”
“That’s different.”
I shook my head.
“She showed me the will.”
“I’ve seen that will.”
“And?”
“It was signed eleven days after your father was placed on heavy sedation.”
I stopped breathing.
Daniel leaned forward.
“The original estate plan has been missing for seven years.”
I thought of the brass key.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His eyes found mine.
“What?”
He ended the call.
May you like
“Your house is on fire.”
