Chapter 3 - THE WILL THAT WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO EXISTEthan didn't answer my question immediately.
He stared at me as if I had just mentioned a secret buried beneath his family's mansion.
"Who told you about Charlotte's will?"
I handed him my phone.
He read the messages.
Once.
Then again.
His jaw tightened.
"Marcus."
The security director stepped forward.
"Sir?"
"Find out who sent these."
Marcus examined the screen.
"Could be a disposable number. I'll preserve the messages and share them with the detectives."
Ethan handed my phone back.
"Where were you when they arrived?"
"Right here."
"Has anyone followed you recently?"
I hesitated.
Three nights earlier, a black SUV had remained parked across the street from my apartment for nearly twenty minutes.
At the time, I'd assumed it belonged to someone visiting a neighbor.
Now I wasn't so sure.
"There may have been someone watching my apartment."
Ethan looked sharply at Marcus.
"I want Grace protected."
I shook my head.
"Mr. Caldwell, I don't need—"
"Someone just threatened you."
"I'm aware."
"And you're the only person who recognized what was happening to Lily."
I crossed my arms.
"Then protect Lily first."
His expression softened.
"Both of you."
I didn't argue again.
Across the hallway, Dr. Chen emerged from Lily's treatment room.
"She's awake."
Ethan was moving before the doctor finished speaking.
Lily lay beneath a pale blue blanket, looking small against the hospital pillows.
A monitor beeped softly beside her.
When she saw Ethan, she began to cry.
"Uncle Ethan?"
He rushed to her bedside.
"I'm here, princess."
"Are you mad?"
He looked devastated.
"At you? Never."
"Because I told the secret."
Ethan held her hand.
"You were brave to tell me."
Lily looked at me.
"Will Miss Grace get fired?"
I stepped closer.
"No, sweetheart."
Ethan nodded.
"Grace isn't going anywhere unless she wants to."
Lily seemed relieved.
Then she glanced toward the door.
"Is Aunt Sabrina here?"
"No."
"Promise?"
Ethan leaned forward.
"I promise she won't be allowed in here."
Lily closed her eyes.
For a moment, I thought she was falling asleep.
Then she whispered, "She said if I told, something would happen to Uncle Ethan too."
The room went silent.
Ethan looked at me.
I saw the exact moment when his grief began turning into anger.
But he kept his voice gentle.
"Nobody is going to hurt you for telling the truth."
Lily looked unconvinced.
"She hurt Mommy."
Ethan froze.
"What do you mean?"
Lily pulled the blanket toward her chin.
"I heard her talking."
"When?"
"At the house. Before Christmas."
Christmas.
Nearly eleven months after the plane crash.
I pulled a chair beside the bed.
"Lily, we don't have to talk about anything you're not ready to share."
The child looked at me gratefully.
Then she reached beneath her pillow and pulled out her stuffed rabbit.
Its name was Mr. Buttons.
One eye was missing.
The fabric around its left ear had been repaired with uneven purple thread.
"My mommy gave him to me," Lily said.
I smiled.
"He's a very handsome rabbit."
Lily shook her head.
"He's not just a rabbit."
Ethan brushed a curl away from her forehead.
"What is he, sweetheart?"
She leaned closer.
"Mommy said he remembers things."
I felt a strange chill.
Ethan gave a sad smile.
"Your mom always had the funniest ideas."
But Lily shook her head more urgently.
"No. She told me that if the bad people came, Mr. Buttons could help."
Ethan and I exchanged a glance.
"Did she tell you how?" I asked.
Lily nodded.
"She said the heart keeps everything safe."
I looked at the rabbit.
A small red heart had been embroidered on its chest.
The stitches were newer than the rest of the toy.
Something about them bothered me.
But Lily was exhausted, and I didn't want to frighten her.
"Mr. Buttons can stay right here," I said.
She smiled faintly.
Then she fell asleep.
Three hours later, Ethan finally explained the will.
We were sitting in a private hospital conference room.
Rain tapped against the windows.
Marcus stood near the door.
Ethan had changed out of his wedding jacket, but he still wore the white shirt and black trousers from the ceremony.
His tie lay forgotten on the table.
"My sister and I inherited shares in Caldwell Industries after our parents died," he began.
"Charlotte owned twenty-eight percent of the company. I own forty-two."
"What happened to the rest?"
"Public investors, family trusts, and longtime partners."
He rubbed his forehead.
"Three days before the crash, Charlotte contacted an estate attorney. She wanted to change her will."
"Why?"
"She wouldn't tell me."
He stared down at his hands.
"She said she'd discovered something about a person close to our family."
"Did she say who?"
"No."
"Did she sound frightened?"
Ethan nodded.
"Very."
He reached into his pocket and removed his phone.
"She called me the night before she died. I was in Singapore negotiating an acquisition."
"What did she say?"
His voice became rough.
"She said, 'Ethan, if anything happens to me, don't trust the people who tell you it was an accident.'"
I felt my stomach tighten.
"And what did you say?"
He looked at me.
"I told her she was overreacting."
The admission hung between us.
"I said we would talk when I returned. I told her not to worry."
His eyes filled.
"That was the last conversation I ever had with my sister."
I wanted to reach for his hand.
Instead, I asked the question that mattered.
"Did she finish changing the will?"
"According to her attorney, she signed new documents. But after the crash, the attorney claimed the final version was missing."
"Missing?"
"His office was broken into two days after the funeral. Several client files disappeared."
"What was the attorney's name?"
"Harold Bennett."
Marcus spoke for the first time.
"Mr. Bennett retired six months ago. His former firm says he moved to Vermont."
I looked toward him.
"Has anyone spoken to him?"
"We tried last year. He refused."
"Maybe he was afraid."
Ethan leaned back.
"Or maybe he was involved."
I considered the anonymous messages.
Someone wanted us to know about Charlotte's will.
But they hadn't identified themselves.
That meant one of two things.
They were helping us.
Or they were leading us into a trap.
I was about to say so when the conference room door opened.
A police detective stepped inside.
She was in her early forties, with dark hair pulled into a practical ponytail.
"Detective Rachel Morgan," she introduced herself.
Her expression was serious.
"Mr. Caldwell, we've collected the syringe and the glass from the ballroom. Both are being examined."
Ethan stood.
"Have you arrested Sabrina?"
"Not yet. We're interviewing witnesses and securing evidence. Ms. Vale has retained an attorney."
"She was holding a syringe beside my niece's drink."
"We understand the allegation."
Ethan's voice rose.
"She poisoned a child!"
Detective Morgan remained calm.
"We need evidence that can stand up in court. Right now, we're doing this carefully."
She turned to me.
"Ms. Holloway, your observations may be essential. I need a full timeline of everything you've witnessed."
"I'll give you whatever I know."
"Good."
Then she placed a photograph on the table.
It showed a dark-haired man standing beside a silver Mercedes.
"Do either of you recognize him?"
Ethan frowned.
"No."
I stared at the picture.
Something about the man was familiar.
Then I remembered.
He had visited Caldwell Manor four days earlier.
Sabrina introduced him as a wedding consultant.
But he hadn't been carrying floral arrangements or seating charts.
He had been carrying a black medical case.
"I've seen him," I said.
Detective Morgan looked at me.
"Where?"
"At the mansion. Sabrina took him upstairs."
"Do you remember anything else?"
I closed my eyes.
I could hear Sabrina's voice from that afternoon.
The girl is remembering too much.
I opened my eyes.
"He went into Lily's bedroom."
Ethan stood so abruptly that his chair struck the wall.
"Who is he?"
Detective Morgan hesitated.
Then she answered.
"His name is Adrian Mercer. He's a former employee of a private aviation maintenance company."
Ethan went completely still.
The detective continued.
"That company serviced your sister's airplane before the crash."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Marcus's phone rang.
He stepped outside.
When he returned, his face had changed.
"Mr. Caldwell, there's a problem."
Ethan turned.
"What kind of problem?"
Marcus swallowed.
"Someone entered Lily's bedroom at the estate about forty minutes ago."
"Who?"
"We don't know. They avoided the main security cameras."
"Was anything taken?"
Marcus looked directly at me.
"The stuffed animals on her shelves were searched. One was torn open."
My heart pounded.
I thought of the embroidered red heart.
Of Lily's strange words.
Mommy said he remembers things.
I stood.
"Mr. Caldwell, I think Charlotte left something inside that rabbit."
Ethan looked through the window toward Lily's hospital room.
Mr. Buttons rested beside her pillow.
Then Marcus's phone buzzed again.
He read the message.
His face drained of color.
"What now?" Ethan demanded.
Marcus slowly lifted his eyes.
"Security just found a note inside Lily's bedroom."
"What does it say?"
Marcus read it aloud.
May you like
GIVE US THE RABBIT, OR THE GIRL DOESN'T COME HOME.
END OF CHAPTER 3
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