Chapter 3 - My Mother's Last Message
Six months earlier, Emma had been sitting in a laundromat in Pasadena when her dead mother's email arrived.
The subject line was simple.
IF THEY SAY IT WAS AN ACCIDENT.
Emma had stared at it for almost a minute before opening it.
Her mother, Nora Reed, had worked for Harrington Private Trust for seventeen years. She was not rich. She did not wear designer clothes. She was the kind of accountant who packed the same turkey sandwich every day and still kept receipts from 2009.
Three days before the email appeared, Nora had driven off a mountain road during a storm.
Police called it an accident.
The email said otherwise.
Emma,
If you're reading this, I was right to be afraid.
Do not go to the police first.
Find the blue ledger.
Find HPT account 7714.
And do not trust Vivian Cross.
The last line was worse.
Adrian does not know what he married.
Emma had read it until the words blurred.
Then she opened the attachment.
It contained four bank transfers, all approved by Nora's digital signature.
Except Nora had been in a hospital after gallbladder surgery on the date of the first transfer.
Someone had copied her credentials.
Someone had moved $28 million through three shell companies.
And one of those companies had paid for renovations at the Cross villa.
Emma spent the next four months following the money.
She found fake vendors. Fake consulting contracts. A private driver who had suddenly bought a house in cash.
Every road led back to Vivian.
But none of it was enough.
Not for a criminal case.
Then Emma found an old photograph inside Nora's desk drawer.
Her mother stood beside a younger Adrian Cross and Adrian's father, Richard Harrington, outside the same villa where Emma now stood soaking wet.
On the back, Nora had written five words.
THE ORIGINAL LEDGER IS HERE.
So Emma took a catering job.
She entered the house carrying champagne.
For three weeks, she searched.
Tonight was supposed to be the final night.
Back in the present, Emma ran through the service hall toward Adrian's study.
Lauren stayed two steps behind her.
"Why are you helping me?" Emma asked.
"Because I laughed when she pushed you."
"That doesn't answer my question."
Lauren stopped.
"I laughed because Vivian watches everyone. And because I need her to keep believing I'm on her side."
Emma stared at her.
Lauren swallowed.
"Your mother called me the night she died."
May you like
Before Emma could speak, a gunshot cracked from behind the study door.
Emma had spent months asking herself whether grief had made her reckless. The sound behind that study door gave her the answer. Reckless or not, she was already too far inside the truth to turn around.
