Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN WHO KNEW EVERYTHING
Grace Holloway looked nothing like the woman I remembered.
The executive assistant of my childhood had worn dark suits, red lipstick, and the permanent expression of someone who knew everyone’s secrets but considered discussing them vulgar.
The woman in the private clinic was thin, gray-haired, and unable to move the left side of her body.
A stroke.
Nathan sat beside her bed.
When I entered the room in my wheelchair, escorted by Marcus and Elena, my brother stood.
“You found me.”
“You didn’t make it difficult.”
He looked exhausted.
“I didn’t go to Canada.”
“I know.”
“Richard has people watching airports. I gave my passport to someone else.”
“To make him think you ran.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Nathan looked at Grace.
“To keep her alive.”
I studied him.
“You knew she was here?”
“For eight months.”
“And you told nobody.”
“She made me promise.”
“Why?”
Grace made a sound.
Barely more than air.
Nathan moved toward her.
“She can understand everything, but speaking is difficult.”
Grace’s eyes fixed on me.
Recognition.
Then tears.
I rolled closer.
“Ms. Holloway.”
Her fingers moved weakly against the blanket.
One tap.
Nathan explained.
“One tap means yes. Two means no.”
I looked at him.
“How convenient.”
“You think I’m lying?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“Good. Maybe you’ll finally listen.”
I ignored the insult.
“Why did you come here tonight?”
Nathan pulled an envelope from his jacket.
“Because Grace sent this.”
Inside was a photocopy of a letter written by my mother.
Richard knows.
Only those two words.
“Where’s the rest?”
“Grace has it.”
“Then show me.”
Nathan shook his head.
“She wouldn’t tell me where.”
Grace tapped the mattress.
Once.
Yes.
She knew.
I leaned toward her.
“Grace, did my mother discover Richard was stealing from Whitmore Global?”
One tap.
“Was my father involved?”
Grace’s eyes filled.
Then:
Two taps.
No.
The relief was immediate and shameful.
I had wanted my father innocent.
Maybe because losing one parent to murder was easier to bear than discovering the other caused it.
“Did my father know Richard was stealing?”
One tap.
Yes.
That surprised me.
“Before my mother died?”
One tap.
“Yes?”
Again.
One tap.
Nathan stared at her.
“You told me he didn’t.”
Grace moved her fingers.
Two taps.
Then struggled to lift her hand toward the bedside tablet.
Nathan positioned it.
She typed slowly with one functioning hand.
THOMAS KNEW SOME.
NOT ALL.
I swallowed.
“Did he order my mother’s plane cleared to fly?”
Two taps.
No.
“Did you?”
Grace began crying.
One tap.
My anger rose.
Nathan stepped between us.
“She was forced.”
“Move.”
“Alex—”
“Move.”
Grace typed.
I SENT ORDER.
I USED THOMAS LOGIN.
I DID NOT KNOW PLANE WOULD CRASH.
The room became silent.
“You authorized an unsafe aircraft.”
She shut her eyes.
One tap.
“Why?”
She typed.
RICHARD SAID SENSOR WAS SAFE.
ONLY DELAY ELEANOR.
“Delay her from what?”
BOARD MEETING.
Of course.
My mother had been traveling to Chicago to meet investors.
Richard needed time.
Just like he later needed time with me.
Same pattern.
Same method.
“Who told Richard the sensor was dangerous?”
Grace typed a name.
PETER.
Peter Shaw.
He had lied again.
Not merely hidden a maintenance issue.
He had been part of my mother’s accident too.
“How much were you paid?”
Grace shook her head fiercely.
Two taps.
“Then why help Richard?”
Her breathing changed.
Nathan placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Slowly.”
Grace typed.
MY SON.
I looked at Nathan.
He answered.
“Grace had a son named Eric. Addiction problems. Gambling debts.”
Grace continued typing.
RICHARD CONTROLLED DEBT.
THREATENED PRISON.
“You chose my mother instead.”
Grace sobbed silently.
The cruelty of the truth sat between us.
She had not intended murder.
But intentions did not bury less deeply.
“Why disappear?”
Grace typed.
THOMAS FOUND OUT.
My heart jumped.
“My father knew?”
One tap.
“After the crash?”
One tap.
“What did he do?”
Grace typed.
CONFRONTED RICHARD.
“Then?”
RICHARD THREATENED NATHAN.
I turned toward my brother.
Nathan’s face went pale.
“What?”
He shook his head.
“I didn’t know.”
Grace tapped once.
She typed.
RICHARD HAD PROOF NATHAN STOLE MONEY.
Nathan closed his eyes.
There it was.
“So you did steal.”
He looked at me.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Two million.”
Elena inhaled quietly.
Nathan laughed bitterly.
“Compared to Richard’s hundreds of millions, I suppose mine seems almost respectable.”
“It doesn’t.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Because I was twenty-five and stupid and furious at Dad and desperate to prove I didn’t need you.”
“So you stole from us.”
“I borrowed from a corporate development fund through a company I controlled.”
“Borrowing generally involves permission.”
“I intended to repay it.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Two years later.”
“That doesn’t erase it.”
“I know.”
For once, Nathan wasn’t defending himself.
He simply looked ashamed.
Grace typed again.
THOMAS COVERED IT.
My anger shifted.
“My father covered Nathan’s theft.”
One tap.
“Richard knew.”
One tap.
“Used it against him.”
One tap.
“And against you.”
One tap.
The architecture became clearer.
Richard had collected weaknesses.
Grace’s son.
Nathan’s theft.
My father’s pride.
Vanessa’s ambition.
Peter’s greed.
He rarely forced anyone.
He simply discovered the price of their silence.
“What happened after my father confronted Richard?”
Grace typed.
THOMAS WANTED POLICE.
RICHARD SAID COMPANY WOULD COLLAPSE.
THOMAS WAITED.
“Why?”
NATHAN.
My brother turned away.
Father had delayed justice to protect his son.
Six months later, cancer killed him.
Richard survived.
“Did my father leave evidence?”
Grace’s finger hovered.
Then:
One tap.
“Where?”
She typed.
SAFE.
“What safe?”
ELEANOR’S MUSIC ROOM.
I remembered the room.
My mother’s piano.
Sheet music.
Father never entered after she died.
The one place he could not emotionally bear to visit.
Maybe that was why he chose it.
Elena whispered, “Another place he ignored.”
My mother and father had hidden evidence in rooms defined by their distance from each other.
Marriage had failed them even after death.
Then Grace grabbed my wrist.
Her strength shocked me.
She typed urgently.
RICHARD DOES NOT WORK ALONE.
“Who?”
She looked toward Nathan.
Then toward Marcus.
Her eyes widened.
Before she could type, the lights went out.
Marcus immediately drew his weapon.
“Everyone stay still.”
Emergency lighting came on.
Red.
Dim.
A sound echoed in the hallway.
Metal striking tile.
Marcus moved toward the door.
“Elena, lock it behind me.”
He stepped into the corridor.
The door closed.
Elena locked it.
Nathan moved beside Grace.
I listened.
Footsteps.
Then shouting.
A crash.
A gunshot.
Elena flinched.
Another shot.
I tried to stand.
She pushed gently against my shoulder.
“No.”
“Marcus is out there.”
“And you can barely walk.”
“I’m not sitting here.”
“That is literally what you need to do.”
Despite fear, the absurdity almost made me laugh.
Then someone hit the door.
Once.
Twice.
Nathan grabbed a metal IV stand.
“Elena, get behind me.”
She stared at him.
“I’ve seen you fight.”
“So?”
“So I’m not convinced that improves my odds.”
The door slammed again.
The lock cracked.
A hand appeared.
Nathan raised the IV stand.
The door opened.
Marcus stumbled inside.
Blood covered his sleeve.
Elena rushed forward.
“You’re hit.”
“Graze.”
Marcus locked the door.
“Two men. Security uniforms. Not ours.”
“Where?”
“One ran. One’s down.”
He looked at Grace.
“They came for her.”
Grace’s monitor began beeping rapidly.
A nurse ran inside through another adjoining door.
“We need everyone out!”
Grace reached toward me.
“Ms. Holloway.”
She struggled to type.
Her hand shook.
Four letters appeared.
M A R C.
Then her hand fell.
The nurse shouted for help.
Doctors rushed in.
We were forced into the hall.
I stared through the glass while they worked.
MARC.
Marcus?
My security chief stood beside me holding a towel against his bleeding arm.
He saw the word.
His face changed.
“You think she meant me.”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ve protected your family for eleven years.”
“So did Grace.”
Marcus looked wounded.
Not physically.
Nathan said, “Maybe she was writing Marcus.”
Marcus turned on him.
“Or Mark.”
Elena looked between us.
“Who’s Mark?”
I knew only one important Mark.
My father’s former CFO.
Mark Bellamy.
He had retired after my father died.
Or supposedly retired.
I looked at Marcus.
“Find Bellamy.”
He nodded stiffly.
I stopped him.
“Not through company channels.”
His expression hardened.
“You don’t trust me.”
“I trust evidence.”
For a moment I thought he might resign.
Instead he said, “Good.”
Then left.
Nathan watched him go.
“You realize Richard’s greatest advantage is making us suspicious of each other.”
“He doesn’t have to work very hard.”
My brother looked at me.
“That’s fair.”
Doctors stabilized Grace.
She survived.
But sedation meant no more answers that night.
Before leaving, Nathan touched my shoulder.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“All of it.”
“That’s broad.”
“The theft. Hating you for things you didn’t do. Letting Richard use me.”
I studied him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because every time I looked at you, I saw the person Dad believed I should have been.”
“That wasn’t my choice.”
“I know.”
“You could’ve asked for help.”
“I’d rather have drowned.”
“That much was obvious.”
For the first time in years, we almost smiled at each other.
Almost.
Then Elena’s phone rang.
She looked at the screen and went still.
“What?”
“My mother.”
“Answer.”
Elena did.
“Mom?”
Her face drained.
“What do you mean someone’s inside?”
She began running.
I grabbed her wrist.
“Elena.”
She looked at me, terrified.
Her mother’s voice was audible through the phone.
“Elena, I locked myself in the bedroom.”
Then a man’s voice sounded in the background.
“Elena Ramirez.”
Elena froze.
The stranger spoke louder so the phone could hear.
“Mr. Whitmore keeps asking questions.”
A crashing sound.
Her mother screamed.
Elena shouted, “Leave her alone!”
The man laughed.
“Then tell your billionaire friend to stop.”
The call ended.
Elena stared at the screen.
For the first time since I met her, the fearless woman who had stood between me and Vanessa looked completely helpless.
I understood that expression.
I had seen it in the mirror after my helicopter crash.
I reached for her hand.
“They made a mistake.”
She looked at me.
“What?”
“They involved your family.”
I turned toward Nathan.
“Call the police.”
Then Marcus.
“My mother’s address.”
He was already moving.
I looked back at Elena.
“I’m bringing her home.”
“How?”
May you like
I squeezed her hand.
“With everyone I have.”
