Chapter 5
For three seconds after the call ended, I couldn't move.
I kept the phone pressed to my ear.
The voice replayed in my head.
If you want your father alive, stop investigating.
"Michael?"
Dad was watching me.
I lowered the phone.
"Someone just threatened you."
The entire conference room went silent.
Olivia immediately stood.
"Tell me exactly what was said."
I repeated the words.
My father didn't panic.
That frightened me more than if he had.
He simply looked at Claire.
"Contact security."
Then he turned toward Olivia.
"And the police."
I stared at him.
"You're taking this seriously?"
"Of course."
"But you're not scared?"
He looked at me.
"I am."
His honesty stopped me.
"Being afraid doesn't mean we stop doing what's right."
Within an hour, two detectives arrived.
Detective Samuel Reed was a tall man with tired eyes.
His partner, Detective Laura Mitchell, carried a notebook.
They questioned me about the call.
They asked about the wedding.
The financial investigation.
Richard Hale.
Diane Whitmore.
Vanessa.
I answered everything.
When they finally left, Detective Reed gave me his card.
"Do not confront anyone involved."
I nodded.
"If you receive another threat, contact us immediately."
Outside the conference room, I found my father standing beside a window.
"Dad?"
He turned.
I stepped closer.
"I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."
He placed his hands on my shoulders.
"Nothing is happening to me without a fight."
I managed a weak smile.
He pulled me into a hug.
I held him longer than I had since childhood.
That afternoon, Olivia discovered another problem.
Diane had filed a civil complaint against me.
She claimed I had deliberately sabotaged the wedding to humiliate her family.
She demanded reimbursement for the ceremony.
Nine hundred and forty thousand dollars.
I stared at the papers.
"She's suing me?"
Olivia nodded.
"Yes."
"For leaving my own wedding?"
"That's essentially the allegation. It doesn't mean she'll succeed."
I laughed bitterly.
"She calls my father trash, threatens our future, and now wants money?"
My father shook his head.
"Don't let her pull you into an emotional battle."
"But this is insane!"
"Then we'll deal with it carefully."
Olivia added, "We also need to preserve every recording from the ballroom."
Claire stepped forward.
"I've already requested the venue's security footage."
She hesitated.
"There's something else."
I looked at her.
"What?"
"The wedding was being livestreamed privately for guests who couldn't attend."
I blinked.
"Livestreamed?"
"Yes. The recording includes Diane's confrontation."
My heart jumped.
"So everyone can see what she did?"
"More importantly, the court can see it."
For the first time since the wedding, I felt a small spark of relief.
Then Claire handed me a tablet.
A video had appeared online.
Someone had recorded the moment my father was humiliated.
The clip was spreading quickly.
Thousands of comments filled the page.
Some supported us.
Others accused my father of staging the entire incident.
I recognized the accusation immediately.
It appeared repeatedly, written almost identically.
Arthur Bennett planned this publicity stunt to destroy the Whitmore family.
I looked at Olivia.
"These comments sound coordinated."
She leaned closer.
"That's possible."
Dad sighed.
"Someone is trying to control the story."
That evening, Vanessa appeared outside my childhood home.
I saw her through the front window.
She stood beside her car in jeans and a plain sweater.
No designer gown.
No diamond earrings.
She looked completely different.
I opened the door but remained on the porch.
"Why are you here?"
Her eyes were red.
"I needed to see you."
"You should have called."
"You won't answer."
I folded my arms.
"What do you want, Vanessa?"
She looked down.
"My mother froze my accounts."
I said nothing.
"She told me I'm dead to her unless I convince you to support the acquisition."
I studied her face.
"And?"
"And I told her no."
A car passed slowly down the street.
Neither of us spoke until it disappeared.
"I know you hate me," Vanessa whispered.
"I don't hate you."
She looked up.
"Then there's hope?"
"Don't confuse that with forgiveness."
Her face crumpled.
I felt pain in my chest.
Despite everything, part of me still wanted to comfort her.
But I remembered my father standing alone.
I stayed where I was.
"Why did you take the money?" I asked.
Vanessa closed her eyes.
"I was twenty-six. Mom told me I owed her for everything she'd done."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"I know."
She wiped her cheeks.
"I thought meeting you would be harmless. A few dates. Then I'd tell her it wasn't working."
"But you didn't."
"No."
"Why?"
Her voice broke.
"Because I liked you."
I looked away.
She continued.
"You were the first man who didn't ask about my family's money. You made pancakes when I was sick. You remembered my father's birthday even though you'd never met him."
Tears ran down her face.
"I fell in love with you, Michael."
"Then you should have told me."
"I was terrified."
"Of your mother?"
She nodded.
"She controls everything."
I thought of Helen's documents.
"Did you know she took your inheritance?"
Vanessa went completely still.
"What?"
"Your father's estate."
Her lips parted.
"My mother said the money was lost in the financial crisis."
I watched her expression.
For once, she seemed genuinely bewildered.
"Vanessa, Helen Brooks says otherwise."
She staggered backward.
"Helen?"
"Yes."
Vanessa covered her mouth.
"Oh my God."
I stepped forward instinctively.
"What?"
She looked at me with fresh terror.
"Helen was fired after she found something in my mother's office."
I waited.
Vanessa began crying harder.
"She told me to look for a red ledger."
"A what?"
"A red leather account book. She said my father kept copies of everything."
I felt my pulse quicken.
"Where is it?"
Vanessa shook her head.
"I don't know. Mom changed the locks."
I remembered the small brass key.
"Does this open the safe?"
"It used to."
I looked at her.
"And what happened to the ledger?"
She hesitated.
"Richard told my mother he would move it."
"When?"
"The night before our wedding."
I went cold.
That meant they had been hiding evidence even before the ceremony collapsed.
Vanessa reached into her pocket.
"I brought something."
She handed me an envelope.
Inside was a handwritten note.
I recognized Diane's handwriting from wedding invitations.
It contained an address and a time.
At the bottom were five chilling words.
Bring Michael. No police. Alone.
I looked up.
"Where did you get this?"
Vanessa's voice shook.
"It was slipped under my apartment door an hour ago."
I examined the address.
It belonged to an abandoned warehouse outside the city.
My stomach tightened.
"Who sent it?"
"I don't know."
Then Vanessa whispered something that made my blood run cold.
"Michael, I think my mother is afraid of Richard now."
May you like
I stared at the note.
And I realized the people who had tried to destroy my family might finally be turning against each other.
