Chapter 3 - THE FARMHOUSEI waited until Martin left.
Then I locked the cabin door as best I could, packed the documents, and followed the hidden passage one last time.
Before leaving, I looked at the photograph of my son.
“I'll find the truth.”
Then I walked into the mountains.
The journey to the farmhouse took hours.
By the time I arrived, the sun was disappearing.
The farmhouse was small but warm.
There was electricity.
Running water.
Food in the kitchen.
And a note waiting on the table.
Mom, this place is yours.
I cried.
Not because it was beautiful.
Because my son had thought about me.
Even while trapped in whatever nightmare he had been living through, he had thought about where his mother would go if he died.
There was another envelope.
Inside was a key.
And another message.
“The truth is hidden in the house you were thrown out of.”
I stared at the words.
The four-million-dollar mansion.
Claire had claimed everything.
But apparently, she had missed something.
The next morning, Gideon arrived.
He was in his late fifties, with gray hair and a scar above one eyebrow.
He studied me carefully.
“You look like him.”
I smiled sadly.
“Everyone says that.”
He handed me a cup of coffee.
“Your son hired me six months ago.”
“Why?”
“He believed someone was trying to kill him.”
I gripped the cup.
“Who?”
“He didn't know.”
“Did he suspect Claire?”
“Yes.”
My heart sank.
“What did you find?”
“Financial transfers.”
“To whom?”
“Several people.”
“Claire?”
“Indirectly.”
Gideon opened a folder.
“She had been moving money out of the company.”
My son owned a construction firm.
The company had been successful.
Very successful.
But Claire had told everyone that Thaddeus had been struggling financially.
That suddenly made no sense.
Gideon continued.
“Your son's company had been losing money for months.”
“Because of her?”
“We think so.”
He showed me invoices.
Fake contractors.
Fake consulting fees.
Payments to shell companies.
Then he showed me something else.
A photograph.
Claire meeting a man outside a private clinic.
“Who is he?”
“Dr. Malcolm Reeves.”
I stared at the photograph.
“His doctor?”
“Your son's physician.”
I felt cold.
“Why was Claire meeting him?”
“We don't know.”
I remembered the medical report.
Possible exposure to an unidentified substance.
“Gideon…”
“Yes?”
“Can poison be hidden in medication?”
He didn't answer immediately.
“Some substances can.”
My stomach turned.
“Can you prove it?”
“Not without testing.”
I stood.
“Then we test everything.”
Gideon looked at me.
“You're serious.”
“My son is dead.”
My voice shook.
“I want to know why.”
That afternoon, Gideon contacted the medical examiner.
There was still a preserved sample from my son's autopsy.
It would take time.
Meanwhile, we needed evidence.
The four-million-dollar house became our target.
But there was a problem.
Claire had changed the locks.
She had hired security.
And she had already started renovating the property.
Gideon looked at me.
“We need another way in.”
I remembered the hidden room.
The secret passage beneath the mountain cabin.
I remembered my son's words.
The house is evidence.
Maybe there was another passage.
Maybe another hidden room.
That evening, I returned to the mansion.
Not through the front door.
Through an old service entrance.
Gideon disabled the alarm.
We entered silently.
The house looked exactly as I remembered.
But colder.
Claire had removed every photograph of my son.
Every trace of me.
Even the dining table where I had cooked Sunday dinners for years was gone.
I walked upstairs.
My son's study was locked.
Gideon opened it.
Inside, everything had been emptied.
Almost.
I noticed the floor.
One section looked newer than the rest.
I knelt.
There was a small scratch beneath the desk.
I touched it.
A hidden panel opened.
Inside was a key.
And beneath the key was a note.
Basement. Wine cellar. Third wall.
Gideon looked at me.
“Your son planned this carefully.”
I nodded.
Then we went downstairs.
The wine cellar had been renovated.
But the third wall was different.
We removed several bricks.
Behind them was a metal box.
I opened it.
Inside was a stack of photographs.
A USB drive.
And one document.
The title made my blood run cold.
LIFE INSURANCE BENEFICIARY CHANGE.
My son's name was on it.
So was Claire's.
But beneath her name was another signature.
May you like
A signature that shouldn't have been there.
My son's signature had been forged.
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