Chapter 3
I drove to my mother's house that afternoon with Malik following in a separate car.
I didn't tell anyone at the resort where I was going.
Not Claire.
Not Daniel.
Not even my executive assistant.
For the first time in years, I no longer knew which people around me I could trust.
My mother lived in a modest yellow house outside Charleston.
I had offered to buy her a mansion several times.
She always refused.
“This house holds the memories I earned,” she would tell me.
When I arrived, she was waiting on the porch.
Evelyn Bennett.
Sixty-one years old.
Gray beginning to show in her carefully braided hair.
The strongest woman I had ever known.
But today her hands were trembling.
I hugged her.
She held on longer than usual.
“Come inside, baby.”
We sat at the kitchen table where she had helped me with homework when I was a child.
A plate of homemade cornbread rested between us.
Neither of us touched it.
I placed the photograph on the table.
My mother closed her eyes.
“Her name is Angela Reed.”
“Who was she?”
“She worked with your father.”
“At the hotel?”
My mother nodded.
“She was an accountant. Young, brilliant, and brave.”
“Why did Dad have a picture with her?”
“Because she discovered Edwin was stealing money.”
I leaned forward.
“What money?”
“Investor funds. Retirement accounts. Even wages owed to employees.”
My stomach turned.
“Dad found out?”
“He did.”
“And Edwin blamed him?”
“Yes.”
My mother wiped her eyes.
“Your father refused to sign false financial reports. Edwin threatened to destroy him.”
I stared at the photograph.
“Angela had proof?”
“She copied everything. She was going to testify.”
“What happened?”
My mother's voice cracked.
“She disappeared the night before meeting a federal investigator.”
I felt cold.
“Disappeared?”
“Her car was found near the water. The police believed she drowned.”
“But she didn't.”
My mother shook her head.
“No.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because your father made me promise never to involve you.”
“Mom, Dad is gone.”
“And I couldn't lose you too.”
Those words hit harder than any explanation.
For years, I had believed my mother was simply protecting me from painful memories.
Now I realized she had been protecting me from something dangerous.
“What happened three weeks ago?”
She opened a kitchen drawer and removed a small prepaid phone.
“Angela called on this.”
I stared at it.
“She said Edwin had learned you were reviewing old property records.”
“That review was confidential.”
“I know.”
I immediately thought of Daniel.
My best friend had authorized the review.
He knew exactly which historical contracts we were examining.
“What else did she say?”
My mother swallowed.
“She said Edwin was preparing to steal the resort.”
I almost laughed.
“He can't steal a resort.”
My mother looked directly at me.
“Your father said the same thing about his company.”
I stopped smiling.
She continued.
“Angela said Edwin has been hiding money through fake investors for years. Some of that money was used to buy property connected to this resort.”
“That doesn't give him ownership.”
“Not legally.”
I remembered the fraudulent transfer inside Claire's folder.
“And she said there was someone inside your company helping him.”
I stood.
Daniel.
The missing documents.
The copied credentials.
Everything pointed toward him.
But one question remained.
“Why would Vanessa be involved?”
My mother frowned.
“Vanessa Coleman?”
“She arrived this morning.”
“Edwin's daughter?”
“Yes.”
My mother covered her mouth.
“Oh, Marcus.”
“What?”
“Angela warned me about her too.”
I felt my heartbeat quicken.
“What did she say?”
“She said Vanessa had been promised something.”
“What?”
My mother looked toward the window.
“Your resort.”
I stood there, barely breathing.
Then my phone rang.
Malik.
“Marcus, there's been a situation.”
“What kind?”
“Vanessa tried to leave.”
“Let her.”
“She can't.”
“Why?”
“Because she claims someone stole her passport, jewelry, and personal documents from her suite.”
I frowned.
“Was anything actually taken?”
“We're investigating.”
Malik hesitated.
“And she's blaming you.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course she was.
“She called the police?”
“Yes.”
I looked at my mother.
There was fear in her face.
But beneath it, I saw something else.
Resolve.
The same expression she wore when debt collectors came to our apartment after my father's death.
“Don't run from them, Marcus,” she said.
“I won't.”
“Your father never stopped fighting for the truth.”
I kissed her forehead.
“Neither will I.”
On the drive back, I called my attorney, Rachel Morgan.
She had represented my company for eight years.
She listened without interrupting.
Then she asked one question.
“Do you have evidence that the ownership documents were altered?”
“Digital records.”
“Preserve every copy.”
“Already done.”
“And Marcus?”
“Yes?”
“Don't confront Edwin alone.”
I looked through the windshield.
“Why?”
“Because I received a legal notice this morning.”
My jaw tightened.
“What notice?”
“A company controlled by Edwin Coleman claims it owns a forty-percent interest in your resort.”
I nearly missed the exit.
“That's impossible.”
“That's why I'm calling.”
“On what basis?”
“An agreement allegedly signed by Samuel Bennett.”
My father's name made my chest tighten.
Rachel continued.
“The date is two weeks before his death.”
“That agreement is fake.”
“I believe you.”
“What are they demanding?”
“An emergency injunction freezing the resort's major financial transactions.”
I gripped the steering wheel.
“They're trying to stop us from operating.”
“And weaken the company before challenging ownership.”
I knew what that meant.
Payroll could be delayed.
Construction contracts could collapse.
Investors could panic.
Hundreds of families could suffer.
All because Edwin Coleman wanted something he didn't earn.
When I returned to the resort, police vehicles were parked outside the main entrance.
Vanessa stood beside them.
She had changed into a pale pink dress.
Her sunglasses were gone.
Her eyes looked red.
The moment she spotted me, she pointed.
“There he is!”
Guests turned.
Phones appeared.
One officer approached.
“Mr. Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“We need to ask you some questions.”
I nodded.
“Of course.”
Vanessa marched toward me.
“You thought embarrassing me would be funny?”
I looked at her.
“This isn't about embarrassment.”
She leaned close enough to whisper.
“You should have been nicer to me.”
Before I could answer, another voice interrupted.
“Vanessa, that's enough.”
A black luxury sedan had stopped beside the entrance.
An older man stepped out.
Silver hair.
Expensive suit.
Cold, familiar eyes.
I had seen his photograph countless times.
But never stood face-to-face with him.
Edwin Coleman.
He smiled.
“Marcus Bennett.”
I felt twenty years of anger rise inside me.
“Edwin.”
He looked around my resort.
“Beautiful property.”
“Thank you.”
He extended his hand.
I didn't take it.
His smile widened.
“Your father would have been proud.”
I stared at him.
“Don't speak about my father.”
Edwin leaned closer.
His voice was barely audible.
“Then perhaps we should discuss why he really died.”
I felt my entire body go rigid.
May you like
Edwin stepped back.
And smiled as if he'd just invited me to dinner.
