Chapter 5 - My Sister’s PriceMadison disappeared Thursday night.
Her phone went directly to voicemail.
Her apartment was empty.
Her car remained in the courthouse parking garage.
And the security camera outside her building showed her entering a black SUV at 7:43 p.m.
By midnight, Detective Ortiz had the plate.
The vehicle belonged to Whitmore Holdings.
My father’s company.
Or technically, as everyone kept reminding me, the trust’s company.
“Did she get in voluntarily?” I asked.
Ortiz rewound the footage.
Madison walked toward the SUV.
The rear door opened.
She hesitated.
Then climbed inside.
“No visible force,” Ortiz said.
“Can you see who’s driving?”
“No.”
I stared at the screen.
My sister had threatened me.
Slapped me.
Tried to take my fiancé.
And spent months helping our parents sabotage my wedding.
I should have been angry.
I was.
But she was still my little sister.
“Find her.”
“We’re trying.”
Alex and I returned to the hotel at 1:00 a.m.
Neither of us spoke during the elevator ride.
Inside the suite, I kicked off my shoes and sat on the edge of the bed.
Alex loosened his tie.
“Do you want me to say it?”
“What?”
“This is too much.”
I looked at him.
He sat beside me.
“We can leave.”
“Leave?”
“Tomorrow.”
“And go where?”
“Anywhere.”
“My wedding is Saturday.”
“I know.”
“My father is trying to steal company assets.”
“I know.”
“My sister is missing.”
“I know.”
“And your solution is vacation?”
His mouth twitched.
“My solution is to remind you that you have choices.”
I leaned against his shoulder.
“That’s a new concept in my family.”
“Get used to it.”
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then I asked the question I had been avoiding.
“Why are you still here?”
He turned his head.
“That’s insulting.”
“I don’t mean it that way.”
“It’s still insulting.”
“My family attacked me, your name is in every headline, people online are accusing you of marrying me for money you didn’t know existed, and there are photographers camping outside your office.”
“Yes.”
“You could have had a very peaceful life.”
“With whom?”
I looked at him.
“That’s the part you don’t understand, Claire.”
He took my hand.
“I didn’t choose a wedding. I chose you.”
My eyes burned.
“If Saturday becomes impossible, we marry Sunday. If Sunday becomes impossible, Monday. If every church and hotel in the country refuses us, I’ll marry you in Arthur’s office between two filing cabinets.”
I laughed into his shoulder.
“That sounds terrible.”
“Arthur has excellent filing cabinets.”
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A text.
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY DAD REALLY NEEDS YOU UNMARRIED.
I sat upright.
Alex saw my expression.
“What?”
I showed him.
A second message arrived.
PARKING GARAGE. LEVEL 5. TWENTY MINUTES.
Alex shook his head immediately.
“No.”
“It could be Madison.”
“It could be anyone.”
A third message.
HE LIED TO BOTH OF US.
Then a photograph.
Madison sitting inside a car, holding that day’s newspaper.
“It’s her.”
“You’re still not going alone.”
“She specifically said—”
“No.”
“Alex.”
“I love you, but this is not a romantic comedy where you walk into an obvious trap because the mysterious text requested privacy.”
I stared at him.
“That was almost funny.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be.”
We called Ortiz.
Twenty-seven minutes later, police surrounded level five.
Madison was sitting alone in the back seat of the Whitmore Holdings SUV.
She stepped out with her hands raised.
I ran toward her.
Ortiz tried to stop me.
“Wait.”
Madison burst into tears.
“Claire.”
“What happened?”
“I left.”
“With Dad’s car?”
“I took one of the company drivers.”
“Why didn’t you answer?”
“I didn’t know who I could trust.”
I almost pointed out the irony.
Instead, I asked, “What did Dad lie about?”
She looked at Alex, Arthur, Detective Ortiz.
“I need to talk to Claire.”
“No more secrets,” I said.
Her face fell.
“Then everybody hears it.”
Madison wrapped her arms around herself.
“When Grandpa died, Dad told me there was a second will.”
Arthur frowned.
“There wasn’t.”
“That’s what I know now.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That Claire had been removed from everything.”
My heart tightened.
“Why?”
“He said Grandpa believed Claire was too emotional to manage money.”
Arthur actually laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was absurd.
“Samuel Whitmore said the opposite.”
Madison looked at me.
“Dad told me I was the future of the family.”
I understood.
“Since when?”
“Since I was sixteen.”
Sixteen.
Ten years.
“He said you would receive enough money to be comfortable, but I would eventually control Whitmore Holdings.”
“Madison…”
“He trained me for it.”
The sentence came out like an accusation.
“He sent me to business school. Put me in investor meetings. Introduced me to executives.”
I had wondered why Dad pushed her into finance while barely caring what career I chose.
“He told me all of it was mine.”
Arthur’s voice softened.
“Madison, Samuel’s trust has always designated Claire.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
“How?”
“I found documents in Dad’s office two months ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She looked at me as though the answer should have been obvious.
“Because I hated you.”
At least she didn’t lie.
Madison wiped her cheeks.
“All those years, I thought you were the weak one.”
I flinched.
“Dad said Grandpa didn’t trust you. Mom said you were jealous because I had what you couldn’t handle.”
“And when you found the trust?”
“I realized everything they told me was backwards.”
“So you tried to take Alex?”
Shame crossed her face.
“I thought if you didn’t marry him, the trust wouldn’t transfer.”
“And then?”
“Dad promised he’d fix the documents. He said once he controlled everything permanently, he would transfer it to me.”
I stared at her.
“You tried to destroy my marriage for a company.”
Her eyes dropped.
“Yes.”
“That’s your explanation?”
“No.”
She looked back at me.
“It’s my confession.”
Nobody spoke.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
“But there’s something else.”
She reached into her coat.
Ortiz stiffened.
“Slowly.”
Madison pulled out a USB drive.
“I copied Dad’s files.”
Arthur took it.
“What files?”
“Everything I found about the trust.”
“Anything else?”
Her expression changed.
“Payments.”
“What kind?”
“To private investigators.”
Alex’s face hardened.
“Investigating whom?”
“Claire. Alex. Arthur.”
“Why me?” Arthur asked.
“To find something Dad could use against you.”
Madison continued.
“There were also payments to a woman named Celeste Rowan.”
I frowned.
“Who?”
Arthur knew.
His face drained.
“No.”
“What?”
He looked at Madison.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“Who is she?” I demanded.
Arthur sat on the hood of a nearby car.
“Celeste Rowan was your grandfather’s private nurse during the last year of his life.”
My stomach tightened.
“Dad is challenging Grandpa’s mental capacity.”
“Yes.”
Madison nodded.
“He paid Celeste seventy-five thousand dollars last month.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.”
Arthur did.
“To testify Samuel was incompetent.”
The pieces aligned.
Dad had prepared the trust challenge before the fitting-room attack.
Before he claimed everything was an impulsive response to my wedding.
“You said there was more,” I whispered.
Madison nodded.
She looked terrified now.
“There’s an audio file.”
“What’s on it?”
“Dad talking to Gordon.”
“About the transfers?”
“No.”
She swallowed.
“About Saturday.”
My skin prickled.
“What did he say?”
Madison looked at me.
“He said if the legal challenge failed, the wedding itself had to fail.”
Alex stepped closer.
“What exactly did he say?”
Madison closed her eyes.
“He said, ‘No ceremony. No marriage. No transfer.’”
Nobody moved.
Then she added the sentence that changed everything.
“And Gordon asked how far Dad was willing to go.”
My mouth went dry.
“What did he answer?”
May you like
Madison looked directly at me.
“Farther than Claire thinks.”
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