Chapter 3 - The Man My Father Trusted Had Been Waiting for Me for Twenty Years
The stranger disappeared before security could reach him.
By the time Jack sent his men after him, the garage was empty.
Except for a single envelope.
My name was written across it.
Emily Carter.
Jack picked it up.
“You shouldn't open that.”
I took it from him.
“Why?”
“Because it may be a trap.”
“It has my name on it.”
“Exactly.”
I opened it.
Inside was a key.
Small.
Brass.
And beneath it, a note.
WHEN SHE REMEMBERS THE BLUE HOUSE, SHE'LL KNOW WHERE TO LOOK.
I frowned.
“The blue house?”
Jack looked at me.
“Does that mean anything?”
I shook my head.
Then a memory surfaced.
My father's old house.
The one sold after his death.
It had blue shutters.
“Oh.”
Jack stared.
“What?”
“The house.”
He immediately called Thomas.
“Find the current owner.”
Within fifteen minutes, we had an address.
The house hadn't changed much.
Blue shutters.
White fence.
A dead apple tree in the front yard.
I stood outside with Jack.
“I haven't been here since I was twelve.”
“Do you remember anything?”
“Not much.”
We entered through the back.
The old kitchen still smelled like wood and dust.
Then I remembered something.
“My father used to hide things inside the pantry.”
I pulled open the cabinet.
Nothing.
Then I noticed the floorboard.
One nail looked newer.
Jack knelt.
He pried it loose.
A metal box was hidden underneath.
Inside:
A ledger.
A photograph.
And a cassette tape.
Yes.
An actual cassette.
I laughed nervously.
“My father really loved secrets.”
Jack smiled faintly.
“That he did.”
We found an old player in the basement.
The recording crackled.
Then my father's voice filled the room.
“Emily, if you're hearing this, I couldn't tell you the truth while you were young.”
I covered my mouth.
“I wanted you to grow up without fear.”
His voice shook.
“The company is compromised.”
Jack closed his eyes.
My father continued.
“Victor is stealing from the family. But he isn't acting alone.”
A pause.
“The person helping him is someone Jack trusts more than anyone.”
I looked at Jack.
He opened his eyes.
“Who?”
The recording continued.
“I couldn't identify him before they came for me.”
The tape ended.
Silence.
Jack stood.
“Someone close to me.”
I looked around.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You must have suspicions.”
“Everyone.”
He looked at me.
“Except you.”
That night, I couldn't sleep.
Jack had moved me into a secure apartment inside one of his properties.
The room overlooked Boston Harbor.
A guard stood outside.
I sat by the window.
Then Jack knocked.
“Come in.”
He entered holding two cups of tea.
“Coffee?”
“No.”
“Tea?”
“Always.”
He handed me one.
We stood in silence.
Then I asked:
“Why didn't you tell me everything on day one?”
“Because you would have quit.”
“Yes.”
“That was my concern.”
I laughed.
“Very honest.”
He smiled.
“Emily?”
“Yes?”
“I don't want you involved in this.”
“You already involved me.”
“I know.”
“Then stop trying to protect me by keeping me ignorant.”
He looked at me.
For a long time.
Then he said:
“My father trusted four people.”
“Who?”
“My uncle Victor. My mother. My chief accountant. And my oldest friend, Thomas.”
I stared.
“Thomas?”
“Yes.”
“The guy who follows you everywhere?”
“Yes.”
“Could he be the traitor?”
“I hope not.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s family.”
I understood.
That was the real danger.
Not strangers.
Family.
A few hours later, Thomas entered the apartment.
“We found the man from the garage.”
Jack stood.
“Where?”
“Dead.”
My stomach turned.
“Anything on him?”
Thomas handed him a phone.
One message remained.
THE GIRL HAS THE LEDGER.
Jack looked at me.
“But the ledger is here.”
I swallowed.
“No.”
He frowned.
“I saw it.”
“I mean there was something strange.”
I took the ledger.
“Look.”
The first pages were blank.
Then I pressed my thumb against the binding.
A hidden strip lifted.
Inside was a second document.
Names.
Account numbers.
Locations.
And a symbol.
A black crown.
Jack stared.
“Project Black.”
“What is it?”
His expression changed.
“It's not a fund.”
“Then what?”
“A network.”
He turned the page.
At the bottom was a list of dates.
The final date was next week.
And beside it:
NORTHBRIDGE TRANSFER.
“What's happening next week?”
Jack's voice was almost a whisper.
“Someone is moving billions.”
“And?”
“Through Northbridge.”
“Your company.”
“Yes.”
“And who controls the account?”
Jack looked at me.
“Thomas.”
The room went silent.
Jack's oldest friend.
The man who had protected him for years.
The man standing three feet away.
Thomas's face remained calm.
Until his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Jack noticed.
“Who is it?”
Thomas hesitated.
Jack moved toward him.
Thomas backed away.
Then his hand went to his weapon.
Everything happened at once.
Jack drew his gun.
I screamed.
Thomas didn't aim at Jack.
He aimed at himself.
Jack lunged.
The gun fired.
Thomas collapsed.
Not dead.
Wounded.
Jack stared at him in disbelief.
“Why?”
Thomas coughed.
“You don't understand.”
“What don't I understand?”
“The person behind this…”
Thomas looked at me.
“…is already inside your house.”
Then he lost consciousness.
Jack turned toward me.
Our eyes met.
The meaning was clear.
May you like
Someone from the Whitmore inner circle had betrayed them.
And they might already know where I was.
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