Chapter 4 - The Dead Man Who Called Me
Nobody moved.
For several seconds, the only sound in the dining room was Celeste breathing through the phone.
I stared at Nathan.
He shook his head once.
Not disbelief.
A warning not to react yet.
I spoke carefully.
“Edward died eleven months ago.”
“That’s what Vivian told everyone.”
“I attended his funeral.”
“So did I.”
“There was a body.”
“No open casket.”
I remembered.
Edward had supposedly died after complications from a private medical procedure overseas.
The family said the damage to his face made an open casket impossible.
At the time, I had thought the closed funeral was Vivian’s preference for privacy.
Now I remembered something else.
Grant had never seen his father’s body either.
“Where is he?” I asked.
Celeste whispered an address.
Daniel wrote it down.
“No,” she said quickly. “Don’t send police yet.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know who’s compromised.”
Nathan leaned toward the phone.
“This is Nathan Mercer.”
Celeste went silent.
“You told Claire you saw her destroy the wrap,” he said.
“I was forced to.”
“By whom?”
“Vivian.”
“Why?”
“Because Grant needed leverage.”
“Why was the money being moved?”
Celeste started crying again.
“I don’t know everything.”
“Then tell us what you do know.”
Her voice dropped.
“Edward discovered the offshore transfers almost two years ago. He confronted Vivian. Three weeks later, he disappeared.”
I looked toward the portrait of Edward hanging over the fireplace.
“Then whose funeral did we attend?”
“I don’t know.”
Nathan asked, “How do you know he’s alive?”
“Because I saw him.”
“When?”
“Four months ago.”
“Where?”
“At a private clinic outside Baltimore.”
Marcus straightened.
“What clinic?”
Celeste gave the name.
Marcus typed it into his phone.
Then his expression changed.
“I know the medical director.”
Nathan looked at him.
“Call.”
Marcus walked away.
I stayed focused on Celeste.
“Why were you there?”
She hesitated.
“Vivian paid me.”
“For what?”
“To keep Grant distracted.”
My stomach turned.
“You became his mistress because his mother paid you?”
“It didn’t start that way.”
“Six years, Celeste.”
“I know.”
“Six years.”
“I was twenty-seven. Vivian approached me through Silver Vale Consulting. At first, she wanted information about Grant’s business decisions.”
“You slept with him.”
“Yes.”
“You attended my daughter’s birthday.”
Her voice cracked.
“Yes.”
“And watched while they took me downstairs.”
“I didn’t know Grant would do that.”
I closed my eyes.
“That doesn’t make you innocent.”
“I know.”
At least she didn’t argue.
Nathan asked, “Why call now?”
“Because Vivian’s leaving.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“With the money?”
“Yes.”
“What does Edward have to do with it?”
“He knows where the original Mercer agreements are.”
Daniel looked up sharply.
“Original?”
“Vivian believes the copies can be challenged. Edward hid the signed originals before he disappeared.”
Nathan’s face hardened.
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Celeste said something worse.
“She thinks Claire knows.”
I almost laughed.
“I learned about the agreements six hours ago.”
“Vivian doesn’t believe that.”
Rebecca spoke for the first time.
“Where are you now?”
“Somewhere she can’t find me.”
“She already found you once,” Rebecca replied. “If you want protection, give us evidence.”
Celeste was silent.
Then she said, “Check Grant’s study.”
“For what?”
“Behind the painting of his grandfather there’s a biometric safe.”
I knew the painting.
I had passed it every day for seven years.
“What’s inside?”
“Insurance.”
“For whom?”
“For Grant.”
The call disconnected.
Marcus returned two minutes later.
His face told us everything.
“The clinic exists.”
“And Edward?”
“My contact wouldn’t confirm a patient name.”
Nathan waited.
“But?”
Marcus exhaled.
“He confirmed a long-term male patient admitted under a sealed identity eleven months ago.”
My skin prickled.
“Condition?”
“Recovering from poisoning.”
Nobody spoke.
Poisoning.
Edward had not died naturally.
Someone had hidden him.
Or someone had tried to.
Nathan turned toward Theo.
“Grant’s study.”
Theo was already moving.
We crossed the mansion.
Police had cleared most of the guests hours earlier.
The decorations now looked eerie.
Pink balloons.
Half-eaten cake.
Gift bags lined against a wall.
Evidence of a child’s celebration interrupted by adult cruelty.
Grant’s study was locked.
The officer standing outside allowed us entry after Rebecca explained the potential evidence.
The portrait hung behind Grant’s desk.
His grandfather, Charles Ashford, stared down in oil-painted arrogance.
Theo found a hidden sensor.
“Biometric.”
“Whose print?” I asked.
“Probably Grant’s.”
Daniel sighed.
“So we need a warrant.”
I walked toward the painting.
Then something occurred to me.
Grant had once made me place my hand on a scanner inside this room.
Years ago.
He said it was for household security.
I touched the panel.
A green light appeared.
The safe opened.
Everyone stared at me.
Julian blinked.
“That’s convenient.”
“No,” I said.
“It’s terrifying.”
Grant had given me access.
Why?
Inside the safe were folders, jewelry, two passports, cash, and a black hard drive.
There was also a document bearing my signature.
Except I had never signed it.
Rebecca picked it up.
It was a postnuptial agreement.
It transferred my marital property rights to Grant.
My signature had been forged.
Beneath it was another document.
A medical authorization declaring Grant my decision-maker in the event of mental incapacity.
Also forged.
Then Daniel found a folder labeled CUSTODY.
Inside were private photographs of me.
At the grocery store.
At Lila’s preschool.
Driving.
Sitting alone in a café.
Hundreds.
Some were annotated.
CLAIRE APPEARS FATIGUED.
CLAIRE CRIES IN VEHICLE.
CLAIRE FORGETS UMBRELLA.
CLAIRE LATE TO SCHOOL PICKUP—4 MINUTES.
They had been building a case against me for months.
Maybe years.
Julian whispered, “This is insane.”
“No,” Rebecca said quietly.
“It’s organized.”
At the bottom of the safe sat a sealed envelope.
My name was written across it.
Not in Grant’s handwriting.
In Edward’s.
CLAIRE—WHEN THEY COME FOR LILA, OPEN THIS.
I tore it open.
Inside was a single brass key and a note.
THE HOUSE WAS NEVER THE ASSET.
THE LIBRARY WAS.
I stared at it.
“What library?”
Then I remembered.
Not Grant’s study.
Not this mansion.
The Ashford family maintained an old private library downtown.
A members-only building founded by Grant’s great-grandfather.
Almost nobody used it anymore.
Nathan took the key.
“We go now.”
But before we could move, shouting erupted in the hallway.
Grant.
Two officers were escorting him downstairs.
He saw the open safe.
Then he saw the key.
His entire face changed.
“Claire.”
He pulled against the officer.
“Do not go to that library.”
I held the key tighter.
“Why?”
Grant stopped struggling.
For the first time since I met him, he looked genuinely terrified.
“Because my father didn’t hide documents there.”
May you like
He stared directly at me.
“He hid a person.”
