Chapter 5
The Secret Behind Elena's Death
I read Malik's notebook three times.
Every time, the words felt worse.
She'll make sure Dad has an accident like Mom.
My hands shook.
I wanted to call Denise.
Demand answers.
Confront her.
But Rachel had warned me not to act out of anger.
So I photographed the page.
Then called Detective Olivia Grant.
She had handled several financial fraud cases involving local businesses.
Rachel had recommended her because the forged documents might be connected to a broader scheme.
Grant listened carefully.
Then asked me to bring the notebook and trust records to her office.
I agreed.
Before leaving, I checked on Malik.
He was asleep.
Grandma Evelyn sat beside his bed.
She looked up.
"How is he?"
I swallowed.
"Exhausted."
She nodded.
Then reached for my hand.
"Marcus, you need to know something."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
She looked toward Malik.
Then whispered, "Denise asked me about Elena's accident."
I froze.
"When?"
"Last month."
I stared.
"What did she ask?"
"Whether the police still had the accident report."
My heart began pounding.
Elena had died after her car was struck on a rainy highway.
The investigation concluded that a truck driver lost control.
There had been no evidence of intentional wrongdoing.
At least, that's what I'd believed.
I looked at Mom.
"Why would Denise ask that?"
She shook her head.
"I don't know."
Then she continued.
"But she also asked whether Elena had left any documents outside the trust."
My stomach tightened.
"What documents?"
Mom hesitated.
"Financial records."
I stared.
"Elena's records?"
She nodded.
"She seemed particularly interested in the last few months before Elena died."
I felt sick.
I remembered Elena's work.
She had been a financial analyst.
Before becoming ill, she'd investigated suspicious transactions involving several investment companies.
One of those companies had been owned by Denise's former employer.
I had never connected the two.
Why would I?
When I met Denise, she told me she worked in luxury property management.
She rarely discussed her previous jobs.
I thought it was ordinary.
Now I wasn't sure.
I looked at Mom.
"Did Elena ever mention Denise?"
Mom frowned.
"Not by name."
I swallowed.
"Then what?"
She looked away.
"Elena told me she was worried about a woman helping move stolen money through investment accounts."
My stomach tightened.
I sat down.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Mom's eyes filled.
"Because Elena asked me not to."
I looked at her.
"She didn't want you worrying while she was receiving treatment."
I closed my eyes.
For four years, I'd believed Elena's death was simply the final cruelty of a terrible illness and an unexpected accident.
Now I was beginning to wonder whether someone had wanted her silenced.
The next morning, Detective Grant reviewed the notebook.
She read every entry.
Then looked at me.
"Marcus, has Denise ever made a direct threat against you?"
I shook my head.
"Not to my face."
Grant nodded.
"But Malik recorded one."
"Yes."
She photographed the notebook.
Then asked about the forged signature.
I provided the documents.
Grant studied them carefully.
"These appear serious."
I leaned forward.
"Can you arrest her?"
Grant looked at me.
"We need to establish what happened and gather evidence that will hold up."
I swallowed.
"She's dangerous."
Grant nodded.
"That's why we're taking this seriously."
She explained that the financial documents would be examined.
The legal office would be questioned.
And investigators would review any suspicious attempts to access the trust.
Then I mentioned Elena.
Grant's expression changed.
"Your first wife?"
I nodded.
I explained the accident.
Her financial investigations.
Denise's questions.
And Mom's concerns.
Grant took notes.
Then asked, "Do you have Elena's old files?"
I thought for a moment.
"Some."
She leaned forward.
"Where?"
"In our home office."
I swallowed.
"I never deleted her computer backups."
Grant nodded.
"Good."
That evening, I searched through the storage cabinet in my office.
Elena had organized everything carefully.
Tax documents.
Insurance forms.
Investment reports.
Old photographs.
Then I found a small external drive.
A label was attached.
PRIVATE — E.W.
My heart tightened.
I remembered Elena using it.
She once told me it contained work files she needed to preserve.
I connected it to my laptop.
Several folders appeared.
Most contained ordinary financial reports.
But one was labeled:
CARTER HOLDINGS — INTERNAL REVIEW.
My stomach dropped.
Carter.
Denise's maiden name.
I opened the folder.
Bank statements.
Transfers.
Invoices.
Company ownership records.
Then I found a photograph.
It showed Denise standing beside a man in an expensive suit.
His name appeared beneath the image.
LEONARD CARTER.
I recognized him.
Denise's older brother.
A wealthy businessman who had attended our wedding.
He'd smiled warmly.
Called me family.
And told Malik he was lucky to have a new mother.
Now I felt sick.
I opened another document.
It showed money moving through several shell companies.
Some payments went to Denise.
Others to Leonard.
Then I found a recorded message.
Elena's voice.
My hands began trembling.
I pressed play.
"Marcus, if you're hearing this, I need you to know I've discovered something dangerous."
I covered my mouth.
Her voice continued.
"Carter Holdings has been stealing money from vulnerable investors."
I stared at the screen.
"Leonard Carter appears to be directing the scheme."
A pause.
"His sister Denise has helped conceal transactions."
My stomach twisted.
Elena continued.
"I've copied the records and contacted an investigator."
Then her voice changed.
"I'm frightened, Marcus."
Tears streamed down my face.
"But I can't let innocent families lose everything."
The recording ended.
I sat frozen.
Denise had known Elena.
Long before she met me.
And Elena had been investigating her family's financial crimes.
I called Detective Grant immediately.
She answered.
"Marcus?"
"I found something."
My voice shook.
"Elena left evidence."
Grant listened.
Then asked me to preserve the drive.
I agreed.
But before ending the call, she said something that made my blood run cold.
"Marcus, we received another piece of information today."
I swallowed.
"What?"
"Your wife's old accident report contains a witness statement that was never fully investigated."
My heart pounded.
"From whom?"
Grant paused.
"A man who claimed he saw another vehicle force Elena's car toward the truck."
I stopped breathing.
May you like
Because suddenly, my wife's death no longer looked accidental.
And the woman who had been abusing our son might have known exactly what happened.
