Chapter 6
The Betrayal Inside Our Own Family
I stared at Samuel's face in the photograph.
For as long as I could remember, he had been part of our family.
He attended birthdays.
He brought gifts at Christmas.
He helped my father after Mom died.
I had called him Uncle Samuel since childhood.
Now he was standing in a photograph beside the man who had destroyed my mother.
I turned toward Dad.
"Why was Samuel with Richard?"
My father looked shocked.
"I don't know."
I held the photograph closer.
"And Marcus?"
Dad studied it.
"Marcus worked for one of Richard's former companies before joining Grand Meridian."
My stomach dropped.
"You knew?"
"No."
He shook his head.
"I didn't personally approve his original hiring."
I stared at him.
"So Marcus might have known exactly who I was."
Dad looked at the photograph.
"Possibly."
I remembered the lobby.
The way Marcus had hesitated before ordering me out.
The way Diane whispered to him.
The way his expression changed when I called my father.
Suddenly, it all felt different.
What if Marcus hadn't simply made a cruel decision?
What if he'd been instructed to humiliate me?
What if Diane's slap had been planned?
I called James.
"Where is Samuel?"
James hesitated.
"He's outside the property."
I froze.
"What?"
"He arrived about ten minutes ago."
My father turned toward me.
"Who called him?"
I hadn't.
Dad hadn't.
James continued.
"He says he's here to discuss your mother's documents."
My blood ran cold.
Nobody outside this room knew we had found anything.
Not unless someone had been watching.
"Don't let him inside," Dad said.
James immediately agreed.
I looked toward the studio window.
A black sedan was parked near the driveway.
Samuel stood beside it.
Holding his phone.
For the first time in my life, I was afraid of him.
My father called Detective Olivia Grant, a state investigator who had previously reviewed some of the Whitmore financial allegations.
She answered quickly.
"Alexander?"
"We found Celeste's evidence."
A pause.
"Where?"
"At her old studio."
Grant's voice sharpened.
"Do not move anything else. I'm sending a team."
I looked at Dad.
Then at the box.
Something inside told me we couldn't leave all the evidence in one place.
I photographed the documents.
Then I copied the storage drive onto my laptop.
My father watched silently.
When the transfer finished, I placed the original drive back inside the box.
"Now we have a backup."
Dad nodded.
"Good thinking."
Detective Grant arrived thirty minutes later.
She brought two investigators.
Samuel had already left.
According to James, he claimed an emergency had come up.
Grant examined the photograph.
Her expression tightened.
"Samuel Price."
My heart pounded.
"You know him?"
She nodded.
"He was interviewed during the original Whitmore investigation."
My father stared.
"Why wasn't I told?"
"Because the interview was sealed during a separate financial inquiry."
I looked at her.
"Was he suspected of anything?"
Grant hesitated.
"At the time, we couldn't establish his involvement."
I felt sick.
"Why?"
"Several witnesses withdrew their statements."
I thought of my mother's accident.
The missing evidence.
The changed testimony.
It was happening again.
Grant reviewed the documents from the metal box.
Then she opened the storage drive on a secured computer.
Dozens of folders appeared.
Financial statements.
Internal emails.
Audio recordings.
And one file titled:
CELESTE — FINAL INTERVIEW.
I stopped breathing.
"Play it."
Grant looked at me.
"Are you sure?"
I nodded.
The screen flickered.
My mother appeared.
She was sitting in her studio.
The blue door stood behind her.
Her expression was serious.
"If you're watching this, I hope I was wrong about Richard Whitmore."
My father covered his mouth.
My mother's voice continued.
"I have discovered that Richard has been moving stolen pension funds through investment accounts connected to the Grand Meridian acquisition."
Dad stiffened.
The video shifted.
My mother held up a document.
"Alexander doesn't know the full extent of this. He believes Samuel is protecting the company."
I looked at Dad.
His face had gone pale.
Mom continued.
"But Samuel has been sending confidential information to Richard."
My stomach twisted.
"He helped create the shell accounts."
My father whispered, "No."
The video continued.
"Richard has been pressuring Alexander to sell controlling shares of the company."
Mom looked toward the camera.
"If Alexander refuses, Richard plans to manufacture a financial scandal."
I felt anger rising.
My mother had known everything.
Then her expression changed.
"But there's another reason I'm recording this."
She swallowed.
"Three days ago, I received proof that Richard arranged the disappearance of a former accountant who tried to expose him."
Grant leaned forward.
My mother held up a photograph.
The man in the picture was young.
Dark-skinned.
Wearing glasses.
His name appeared beneath the image.
DANIEL COLE.
My heart stopped.
I recognized that name.
Daniel Cole had been my mother's younger brother.
My uncle.
The man my family believed had left Atlanta after a disagreement and disappeared overseas.
I turned toward Dad.
"You told me Uncle Daniel moved away."
My father looked devastated.
"That's what I was told."
Mom continued.
"Daniel didn't abandon us. He found the missing funds, and Richard had him taken."
My eyes filled.
"I don't know if he's alive."
She wiped a tear.
"But I won't stop looking."
The video ended.
Silence filled the studio.
Then my father began crying.
He sat down heavily.
"I trusted Samuel."
I knelt beside him.
"I know."
"He was my closest friend."
I held his hand.
"Mom knew you trusted him."
Dad shook his head.
"I should have listened to her."
I squeezed his fingers.
"You couldn't have known."
But deep inside, I knew our family had been betrayed by someone who understood us better than almost anyone.
Detective Grant closed the laptop.
"This changes the investigation."
I looked at her.
"Can you arrest Samuel?"
"We need to verify the records and obtain warrants."
I nodded.
"Then do it."
Grant stepped outside to make calls.
A few minutes later, she returned.
Her expression was grim.
"Samuel's office is empty."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"His assistant says he left the city this afternoon."
Dad stood.
"Where did he go?"
"We don't know."
Then Grant's phone rang again.
She listened.
Her face changed.
When she ended the call, she looked at me.
"Nia, we found something in Richard Whitmore's former office."
My heart pounded.
"What?"
"A file containing photographs of you."
I felt cold.
"Me?"
She nodded.
"From the past several months."
I instinctively looked toward Grace.
Grant continued.
"Some were taken outside your home."
My hands shook.
"Why would Richard be watching me?"
Grant hesitated.
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
"Because he knew you were pregnant."
I stared.
"And he believed your daughter would give him leverage over your father."
I looked down at Grace.
My beautiful little girl.
My reason for surviving every terrible day since her birth.
And suddenly, I understood.
Diane's slap wasn't simply cruelty.
It was a warning.
May you like
Richard wanted my father to know he could reach anyone he loved.
Even his newborn granddaughter.
