Chapter 2 - THE SECRET BURIED IN MY FATHER'S OFFICEFor several seconds, I couldn't speak.
My father had been dead for eighteen months.
Richard Blackthorn had suffered a massive heart attack in the study where he'd spent most of his life reading financial reports, restoring antique clocks, and reminding me that character mattered more than money.
Nathan had been the one who found him.
Nathan had called the ambulance.
Nathan had stood beside me at the funeral, holding my hand while the minister spoke about my father's generosity.
And now my husband was telling me my father had discovered something before his death.
"What did you say?" I whispered.
There was silence on the line.
Then Nathan recovered.
"Nothing. Listen, Eleanor, this isn't funny anymore. Madison is freezing, and the security system won't recognize my credentials."
"Why were you searching my father's files?"
"Because I need documents for a business transaction."
"At eleven o'clock on Halloween?"
"Eleanor—"
"And why did you say my father wasn't supposed to find out?"
His breathing changed.
It was subtle, but after twelve years of marriage, I recognized it.
Nathan was frightened.
Not angry.
Not embarrassed.
Frightened.
"You're misunderstanding things," he said.
"Then explain them."
A door slammed somewhere behind him.
Madison shouted, "Nathan, just tell her the truth!"
"Shut up, Madison!"
I heard footsteps, followed by muffled arguing.
Then Nathan returned.
"Come back to the house. We can discuss everything like adults."
I looked at the security monitor.
He was standing in the east-wing hallway.
Not outside in the freezing rain, despite his earlier complaints.
The man who'd thrown me out had been inside my warm mansion all along.
"You're already inside," I said.
"What?"
"The cameras are working perfectly, Nathan."
His silence answered everything.
I ended the call.
Then I dialed my attorney.
Margaret Ellis answered on the second ring.
"Eleanor?"
"I need you to tell me everything you discovered about the Blackthorn Family Trust."
Margaret hesitated.
"Where are you?"
"On the estate driveway."
"Are you safe?"
"Yes."
"Then drive to my office. Immediately."
"It's almost midnight."
"I know."
Her voice became sharper.
"Eleanor, I've been trying to reach you for the last twenty minutes. Something happened after the bank received our legal notice."
My hands tightened around the steering wheel.
"What happened?"
"Someone attempted to transfer ownership of Blackthorn Manor."
I stared through the windshield at the glowing windows of my childhood home.
"Transfer it to whom?"
"Whitmore Property Holdings."
Nathan's company.
"That's impossible."
"It should be."
Margaret took a breath.
"But the paperwork includes what appears to be your father's signature."
I felt sick.
"My father never sold the estate."
"I know."
"And he never transferred it to Nathan."
"I know that too."
"Then why would the bank accept it?"
"Because the documents were accompanied by an affidavit stating that your father approved the transfer shortly before his death."
The words hit me like stones.
"That's a lie."
"Yes, Eleanor. I believe it is."
I looked at the security screen again.
Nathan was standing beside my father's old desk.
Madison was holding a thick blue folder.
"Margaret," I said, "what color is the trust's original document binder?"
"Blue."
My heartbeat accelerated.
"Dark blue? Gold lettering?"
"Yes."
On the camera, Madison opened the folder.
Nathan reached for the contents.
Then they both froze.
Because the folder was empty.
I watched Nathan turn it upside down, shaking it as though the missing papers might magically fall out.
He slammed it onto the desk.
Madison covered her mouth.
"What the hell?" she whispered.
Nathan snatched his phone.
Mine began ringing.
I didn't answer.
Instead, I asked Margaret a different question.
"Where are the originals?"
"In my office."
I closed my eyes.
For the first time that night, I felt a tiny thread of relief.
My father had been meticulous about protecting family documents.
Two years before his death, he had hired Margaret's firm to oversee revisions to the estate trust.
He'd instructed her to retain the original documents until I personally requested them.
Nathan had complained at the time.
I remembered his exact words.
Your father acts like I'm some criminal trying to steal his silverware.
I had defended him.
God help me, I had defended him.
"There's more," Margaret said.
I opened my eyes.
"What?"
"Your father's trust includes a special provision regarding Nathan's use of estate property."
"Tell me."
"If Nathan used his corporate access to engage in fraudulent conduct or knowingly misrepresent ownership, his business license could be immediately terminated."
I swallowed.
"So that's why you told me to activate the estate security protocol."
"Partly."
"What's the other reason?"
Margaret paused.
"Because your father anticipated this."
The world seemed to tilt.
"What do you mean?"
"He left a sealed letter for you."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"His instructions were specific. I was only to release it if someone challenged your ownership of Blackthorn Manor."
I stared at the mansion.
Its towers rose against the storm-black sky.
I remembered my father standing on the front steps the last Christmas we spent together.
He'd looked older than usual.
Tired.
He'd placed his hands on my shoulders and said, "Ellie, never confuse loyalty with surrender."
I thought he'd been talking about family disagreements.
Now I wasn't so sure.
"What's in the letter?" I asked.
"I haven't opened it."
"Then I'm coming."
I started the engine.
Before pulling away, I opened the security dashboard one last time.
I confirmed that Nathan and Madison retained safe, unobstructed means of leaving the building.
The gate system could be released for emergency services, and the property's monitored doors could be opened from inside.
I wasn't interested in imprisoning anyone.
I wanted Nathan removed from my property through the proper legal process.
I sent a request to the contracted security supervisor to meet police at the estate entrance.
Then I drove toward town.
My phone rang repeatedly.
Nathan.
Madison.
Nathan again.
I ignored them.
The rain intensified as I turned onto the highway.
At 12:21 A.M., Margaret sent me a photograph.
It showed a handwritten note attached to my father's sealed envelope.
My eyes filled with tears when I recognized his handwriting.
For Eleanor, when the man she trusts most shows her who he really is.
Beneath it were six more words.
Ask Nathan about the October transfer.
I nearly missed the turn into Margaret's parking lot.
Because eighteen months before my father died, there had been an October transfer.
A twenty-million-dollar investment my father had made into Nathan's company.
An investment Nathan claimed had disappeared during a market downturn.
My father had been devastated.
And I'd spent the following year comforting my husband for losing it.
I parked beneath the office awning, shaking.
Margaret appeared at the door.
She wasn't alone.
Standing beside her was a gray-haired man in a dark suit.
I recognized him immediately.
Thomas Reed.
My father's former chief financial officer.
A man Nathan had fired two weeks after the funeral.
Thomas looked at me with exhausted eyes.
"Eleanor," he said, "I should have come to you sooner."
I stepped inside.
"Tell me what happened."
He placed a folder on the conference table.
On the front was a single printed title.
BLACKTHORN CAPITAL — OCTOBER TRANSFER AUDIT.
Thomas swallowed.
"Your father didn't lose twenty million dollars in the market."
I stared at him.
"Then where did it go?"
Thomas looked directly into my eyes.
"Your husband took it."
And before I could respond, Margaret's phone rang.
She answered, listened, and turned pale.
"Eleanor," she said slowly, "the police are at the estate."
"What happened?"
She lowered the phone.
"Madison Clarke just accused you of holding her hostage."
But that wasn't the worst part.
May you like
She had also told the police that Nathan owned Blackthorn Manor.
And she was holding a deed to prove it.
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