Chapter 12 - The Video Claire Left
The flash drive contained one video file.
Claire appeared on screen sitting in the sunroom, thin and tired, but alert.
“William,” she said, “this is the part I was afraid to write down.”
Charlotte crawled into William’s lap while the others watched.
Claire continued.
“Arthur’s theft did not end when he died. Eleanor continued using the same shell network to move money, partly to protect old allies and partly to keep them loyal. Marcus handled the mechanics.”
William closed his eyes for one second.
Then Claire said, “Isabella found out because Rachel left copies. Isabella came to me pretending she wanted to expose everything. But she demanded money to stay quiet.”
Emma whispered, “I didn’t know that.”
Claire’s voice shook. “When I refused, Isabella threatened Charlotte.”
William’s arms tightened around his daughter.
The video changed angle as Claire reached for something off-screen.
“I told Eleanor. That was my mistake.”
Eleanor turned away.
“Eleanor said she would handle Isabella. Instead, my medication changed three days later.”
William stood so suddenly Charlotte startled.
He handed her to Emma.
“You poisoned her.”
Eleanor’s eyes flashed. “No.”
“You changed her medication.”
“I had a nurse adjust sedatives. I wanted Claire calm until I could contain the situation.”
“She died.”
“She was already dying.”
William recoiled as if she had slapped him.
Claire’s recording continued.
“If something happens to me, do not let anyone tell Charlotte I abandoned her. I fought as long as I could.”
William covered his mouth.
Charlotte reached for the screen. “Mommy.”
Then Claire leaned toward the camera.
“One more thing. The final ledger is not in this house. It is where Arthur kept the one thing Eleanor could never bring herself to destroy.”
The video ended.
William turned to his mother.
“What did Dad keep that you couldn’t destroy?”
Eleanor said nothing.
Emma suddenly looked toward the portrait gallery.
“Rachel’s crash file,” she whispered.
Eleanor’s face changed.
William saw the answer.
“The car,” he said.
His mother closed her eyes.
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Arthur Sterling’s restored 1967 Jaguar had been stored for years in a locked garage on the family’s old country estate.
And someone had already left the mansion twenty minutes earlier in a black SUV headed north.
