Chapter 4 - Someone Tried to Silence the Little Girl Who Started Everything
When I reached the hallway, Rosa was running toward me.
“Camila!”
“What happened?”
“She went outside.”
“Why?”
“I thought she was with the gardener.”
We ran through the back doors.
The backyard was enormous.
Swimming pool.
Garden.
Guesthouse.
Tennis court.
But Camila was nowhere.
Then I saw the pink backpack.
It lay beside the hedge.
Empty.
My heart stopped.
“Marcus!”
Security officers flooded the property.
Every gate was locked.
Every camera checked.
Then one guard found something.
A black SUV had stopped near the service entrance three minutes earlier.
The plate was obscured.
But one security camera captured the driver.
I knew him.
Daniel.
My assistant.
My right hand.
The man I trusted with my calendar.
My documents.
My life.
He had taken Camila.
Or someone using his vehicle had.
Either way, I knew this was no longer a financial crime.
This was personal.
We traced the SUV to a warehouse in downtown Los Angeles.
Police were called.
We entered with them.
The building was empty.
Except for one room.
There was a chair.
A table.
A recorder.
And a photograph of Camila.
Rosa collapsed against the wall.
I felt rage burning through me.
The recorder clicked on.
Daniel's voice played.
“You're closer than you think, Victor.”
Then another voice.
A woman.
Evelyn.
“Camila isn't the target.”
I froze.
“Then who is?”
The recording continued.
“You.”
The screen went dark.
A phone on the table rang.
I answered.
“Where is my daughter?”
It was Rosa.
No.
A recording of Rosa.
“Victor, please.”
Then silence.
The caller spoke.
“Come alone.”
“Where?”
“Where Michael died.”
The line ended.
I knew the place.
The canyon road where my brother's car had crashed.
Evelyn had been there.
My mother had investigated it.
Now someone wanted me there.
I went.
Marcus tried to stop me.
I refused.
The old road was empty.
Fog hung over the hills.
My brother had died here.
I had never returned.
At the exact spot where his car had gone over the barrier, I found an envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
My father.
Harrison.
Daniel.
And another man.
A man I didn't recognize.
On the back:
“Ask your father who he was.”
My father was dead.
But perhaps the stranger wasn't.
Then headlights appeared.
A vehicle stopped fifty feet away.
Evelyn stepped out.
She wasn't alone.
Daniel stood beside her.
And between them was Camila.
My heart stopped.
“Camila.”
She looked at me.
“I'm okay.”
Evelyn lifted a hand.
“Don't move.”
I stared at her.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to keep her alive.”
Daniel pointed a gun.
I froze.
“I never thought it would come to this,” Evelyn said.
“You kidnapped her.”
“No.”
Daniel interrupted.
“She came with us.”
I looked at Camila.
She nodded.
“He didn't hurt me.”
“Why did you come?”
Camila stared at Evelyn.
“She told me my mom was in danger.”
I looked at my sister.
“You're going to explain everything.”
“I will.”
“Now.”
Evelyn took a deep breath.
“Dad created Larkwell.”
“What?”
“He used it to steal from employees without putting his name on the transactions.”
I stared at her.
“That's impossible.”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“It started before you took over.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because Dad threatened to destroy you.”
“Why did you continue it?”
“I didn't.”
“Then why did the money move?”
“Because I was using it to pay someone.”
“To blackmail you?”
“To protect Mom's evidence.”
She looked toward the darkness.
“Dad had a partner.”
“Who?”
She whispered:
“Your uncle.”
My stomach dropped.
“Thomas?”
Thomas Whitmore.
My father's younger brother.
A man I hadn't seen in twenty years.
Everyone believed he had moved overseas.
Evelyn continued.
“He was the real architect.”
“What happened to him?”
“He never left.”
A vehicle approached.
Evelyn looked terrified.
“Get down!”
A shot rang out.
Daniel shoved Camila aside.
The bullet struck him in the shoulder.
Evelyn screamed.
I grabbed Camila and pulled her behind the concrete barrier.
Another shot.
Then silence.
Whoever had fired was gone.
Daniel was bleeding.
Police rushed in minutes later.
As they treated him, Evelyn looked at me.
“I told you.”
“What?”
“You were looking in the wrong direction.”
I crouched beside her.
“Where is Thomas?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“Then why did you say he never left?”
“Because I saw him.”
“When?”
“Three days ago.”
“Where?”
She looked toward the road.
“In your mansion.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“How?”
“He has a key.”
“To my house?”
She nodded.
“Your father gave him one.”
I remembered the security footage.
Someone had accessed the property after midnight.
An unrecognized figure.
We had assumed it was Harrison.
It wasn't.
May you like
Thomas had been inside my mansion.
And he knew everything.
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