Chapter 3 - The Account That Shouldn't Exist
Mateo wanted Adelaide back inside the Moretti estate immediately.
Adelaide refused.
“If someone is watching us, hiding won't answer anything.”
“It may keep you alive.”
“So will finding out who wants me silent.”
Mateo studied her.
“You're stubborn.”
“I've been called worse.”
“I know.”
She looked at him.
“You heard my family?”
“Not directly.”
“Then how?”
Mateo hesitated.
“My driver.”
Adelaide's embarrassment returned.
“He heard them?”
“He heard Chloe tell Evelyn that sending you without luggage would make the insult more obvious.”
Adelaide turned toward the window.
Mateo's voice softened.
“They were wrong.”
“You don't have to keep saying that.”
“I haven't.”
She looked back.
He was right.
He had never called her beautiful.
Never offered empty reassurance.
Instead, he behaved as if her scar required no explanation at all.
Somehow that meant more.
They went to Moretti Private Trust.
The brass key opened deposit box 117.
Inside sat one envelope.
Adelaide's name was written across it.
She opened it.
A flash drive fell into her palm.
There was also a letter.
My darling Addie,
If you're reading this, then I wasn't able to explain things myself.
Adelaide stopped.
Mateo moved slightly away, giving her privacy.
She continued.
Margaret wrote that she had discovered Rockford using Jones Financial to move money illegally through accounts belonging to clients who didn't know their identities were being used.
She had confronted him.
Rockford promised to stop.
He hadn't.
Then Margaret discovered someone else helping him.
Evelyn Mercer.
But the final paragraph changed everything.
Rockford isn't the person I fear most. He is weak, and weak men can do terrible things when stronger people tell them what to do. If something happens to me, don't assume the person who benefits most is the person responsible. Follow the signatures.
Adelaide lowered the letter.
“The signatures.”
Mateo inserted the flash drive into an isolated laptop.
Encrypted files appeared.
Adelaide stared at them.
“I know the password.”
“How?”
“My mother always used the same question.”
She typed:
What survives the storm?
Password hint.
Adelaide smiled sadly.
She entered:
ROOTS.
The files opened.
Transaction histories appeared.
Mateo leaned closer.
“These go back sixteen years.”
They spent hours reviewing them.
Rockford had moved money.
Evelyn had authorized transactions.
But another signature appeared repeatedly.
R.J.
Adelaide frowned.
“Rockford Jones?”
“No,” Mateo said.
“Those are his initials.”
“Look at the timestamp.”
One authorization occurred while Rockford had been hospitalized for surgery.
Another while he was overseas.
Someone had copied his credentials.
Then Adelaide found a personnel record.
Richard James Mercer.
Evelyn's older brother.
Adelaide stared.
“I've never met him.”
Mateo had.
“Richard Mercer worked in financial compliance.”
“Where?”
“For my father.”
Adelaide looked at him.
The room suddenly felt colder.
Mateo continued.
“He disappeared sixteen years ago after an internal fraud investigation.”
“And Evelyn became my father's assistant around the same time.”
“Yes.”
The pieces began fitting together.
Not completely.
But enough to frighten them.
Richard Mercer had access to Moretti financial systems.
Evelyn had access to Jones Financial.
Rockford had money, clients, and ambition.
Margaret discovered the scheme.
Then she died.
“What happened to Richard?” Adelaide asked.
“Nobody knows.”
“Maybe he's dead.”
“Maybe.”
Mateo's tone suggested he didn't believe it.
That evening they returned to the estate.
Adelaide found a dress waiting in her bedroom.
Not glamorous.
Not revealing.
Simple dark green silk.
Beside it was a note.
Dinner is formal. Wear whatever makes you comfortable. This is only an option. — M
Adelaide stared at it for a long time.
Nobody had ever given her clothing without telling her what she needed to hide.
She wore it.
When she entered the dining room, Mateo stood.
His eyes paused on her.
Adelaide immediately touched her scar.
Mateo noticed.
“Don't.”
Her hand stopped.
“Don't what?”
“Cover yourself because someone else taught you to.”
She lowered her hand.
“You make everything sound simple.”
“It isn't.”
Mateo pulled out her chair.
“But simple and easy aren't the same thing.”
Dinner began quietly.
Then Adelaide asked the question she had avoided.
“Why aren't you married?”
Mateo lifted an eyebrow.
“Is this an interview?”
“I'm apparently your fake fiancée. I should know.”
He almost smiled.
“Your father announced the engagement before I could stop him.”
“You could deny it.”
“I could.”
“But you haven't.”
“No.”
Adelaide waited.
Mateo put down his wineglass.
“Because whoever stole the fifteen million is watching us. If they believe you're important to me, they may reveal themselves.”
Her expression changed.
“So I'm bait.”
Mateo immediately realized how it sounded.
“No.”
“That sounds exactly like bait.”
“I would never knowingly put you in danger.”
“But you just said—”
“I said they need to believe you're important.”
“And am I?”
Silence.
Mateo looked at her for several seconds.
“Yes.”
Adelaide's heartbeat changed.
Before either could say more, Mateo's security chief entered.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“We have a visitor.”
“Who?”
“Rockford Jones.”
Adelaide stood.
Her father entered moments later.
He looked ten years older.
“Adelaide.”
She remained beside Mateo.
“What do you want?”
Rockford looked at Mateo.
“Five minutes alone with my daughter.”
“No,” Adelaide said.
Rockford flinched.
“Please.”
Something in his face convinced her.
Mateo didn't leave entirely. He stepped beyond the doorway.
Rockford approached.
“I didn't lose the money.”
“I know.”
His eyes widened.
Adelaide continued.
“Evelyn stole it.”
Rockford's face collapsed.
“You know.”
“How long have you known?”
“Three weeks.”
“And you let them send me here?”
Tears filled his eyes.
“I thought you'd be safer.”
Adelaide stared at him.
“Safer?”
“Evelyn wanted you gone.”
“Why?”
Rockford's voice became barely audible.
“Because you look like Margaret.”
Adelaide swallowed.
“That doesn't explain anything.”
“No.”
He reached inside his coat.
Mateo immediately reentered.
Rockford froze.
Slowly, he removed an envelope.
“I should have given you this fifteen years ago.”
Adelaide took it.
Inside was a newspaper clipping about her mother's crash.
On the back, Rockford had written a license plate number.
“What is this?”
“The car that followed your mother that night.”
Adelaide stared at him.
“You knew?”
“I saw it leave the house.”
“Whose car?”
Rockford began crying.
“Richard Mercer's.”
Adelaide felt the floor shift beneath her.
“Evelyn's brother.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell police?”
Rockford looked ashamed.
“Because Richard had records that could send me to prison.”
Adelaide stepped backward.
Her father had known.
For fifteen years.
He had known someone connected to Evelyn followed Margaret on the night she died.
And he had stayed silent to protect himself.
Rockford whispered, “There's something else.”
Adelaide's hands went cold.
“What?”
“Your mother's crash wasn't supposed to kill her.”
Mateo's expression hardened.
Rockford looked directly at Adelaide.
“They were trying to recover something Margaret had taken.”
“The ledger?”
“No.”
Rockford shook his head.
“Evidence against someone far more powerful.”
Adelaide frowned.
“Who?”
Before Rockford could answer, the mansion lights went out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
A second later, Adelaide heard glass break somewhere downstairs.
Mateo's hand found hers.
“Stay with me.”
Emergency lights flickered on.
Rockford stared toward the corridor.
His face went white.
A figure stood at the far end.
An older man.
Gray hair.
Thin face.
A scar beneath one eye.
Rockford whispered a name Adelaide had never heard spoken aloud.
“Richard.”
Evelyn's brother had finally returned.
May you like
And he was smiling at Adelaide.
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