Daniel Mercer.
I knew that name.
But I hadn’t spoken to him in nearly ten years.
He had been Elizabeth’s attorney.
The man who handled our estate planning.
The man who attended Elizabeth’s funeral.
The man who had refused payment when I offered it.
I stared at the letter.
Then I noticed something beneath it.
A second envelope.
Smaller.
Unopened.
On the front, Elizabeth had written:
For Scarlet.
I didn’t open it.
It wasn’t mine.
Instead, I placed both envelopes back into the box.
Then I took out my phone.
I searched my contacts.
There he was.
Daniel Mercer.
My thumb hovered over the call button.
Before I could press it, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
No one spoke.
I waited.
Then a man’s voice said:
“Mr. Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know me.”
“Who is this?”
“My name doesn’t matter.”
“What do you want?”
A pause.
Then:
“You need to cancel the wedding.”
My blood ran cold.
“Who are you?”
“You have three weeks.”
“What happens in three weeks?”
The man breathed quietly into the phone.
“Ask yourself why your future son-in-law knew about your wife’s private accounts before you did.”
The line went dead.
I sat perfectly still.
Then my phone buzzed again.
A text.
One photograph.
I opened it.
It was a picture of Scarlet.
Taken that afternoon.
Outside the suit shop.
Standing beside her fiancé.
And behind them was a black sedan.
I recognized the license plate.
Because I had seen that same car parked outside my house two nights earlier.
I zoomed in on the image.
Someone had written a message across the bottom:
You’re already too late.
I looked toward the window.
The curtains were open.
And across the street…
a black sedan was parked beneath the trees.
I stood slowly.
My heart pounding.
Then the headlights turned on.
And the car began moving toward my house.
PART 4
The black sedan rolled slowly past my house.
It didn’t stop.
It didn’t honk.
It simply passed beneath the streetlight, turned at the corner, and disappeared.
I stood behind the curtain until the taillights vanished.
Then I locked every door in the house.
Not because I was afraid.
Because I finally understood that fear was exactly what they wanted.
They wanted me confused.
They wanted me isolated.
They wanted me to react emotionally so they could predict my next move.
I wasn’t going to give them that.
I went back upstairs and pulled Elizabeth’s wooden box from the dresser.
This time, I took both envelopes.
The one addressed to me.
And the one addressed to Scarlet.
Then I called Daniel Mercer.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“Chris?”
His voice sounded older than I remembered.
“Daniel, it’s me.”
There was a pause.
“I know.”
I frowned.
“How?”
“Because Elizabeth told me that if you ever called after reading that letter, I was supposed to answer immediately.”
My stomach tightened.
“You knew this might happen?”
“I was hoping it wouldn’t.”
“Daniel, I need the truth.”
“I know.”
“What is happening?”
Another pause.
Then he said:
“Come to my office tomorrow morning. Alone.”
“Why can’t you tell me now?”
“Because this conversation is safer in person.”
I looked toward the window.
“Someone has been watching my house.”
“I know.”
That stopped me.
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve been watching them too.”
The next morning, I arrived at Daniel’s office at 8:15.
He was waiting.
He looked older than I remembered.
Gray hair.
Thin glasses.
A tired face.
But his eyes were exactly the same.
Sharp.
Careful.
He closed the office door behind me.
“Sit down.”
I placed Elizabeth’s letter on his desk.
“What is the account?”
Daniel stared at the envelope.
Then he sighed.
“Your wife didn’t tell you because she believed knowledge could put you in danger.”
“She was right.”
“I suppose she was.”
I leaned forward.
“Start from the beginning.”
Daniel opened a file cabinet and removed a thick folder.
The first page carried Elizabeth’s signature.
Below it was Scarlet’s name.
And beneath that was a number that made my throat tighten.
$2.8 million.
I stared at it.
“What is this?”
“An investment trust.”
“For Scarlet?”
“Yes.”
“Where did this come from?”
Daniel looked at me.
“Your wife inherited part of it from her father. The rest came from investments she made before you met.”
I shook my head.
“Elizabeth never told me she had that kind of money.”
“She didn’t want money to change your marriage.”
I looked down at the paperwork.
“So why does my signature matter?”
“Because of the prenuptial structure your wife created.”
I looked up.
“Prenuptial?”
“Not for you and Elizabeth.”
He tapped the document.
“For Scarlet.”
My chest tightened.
“She created a condition that would protect Scarlet’s inheritance from anyone she married.”
Daniel continued.
“Scarlet could access the money, but her spouse could never control it. Not directly. Not through a power of attorney. Not through joint ownership.”
“Then how could they get it?”
“They couldn’t.”
I stared at him.
“Unless?”
Daniel leaned back.
“Unless someone convinced you to sign a document transferring administrative authority.”
My blood ran cold.
“The document I heard them discussing.”
“Yes.”
“So the entire plan is based on tricking me.”
“That’s what it appears to be.”
I looked at the file again.
“But why would my future son-in-law know about this?”
Daniel’s expression changed.
“That is the question your wife wanted you to answer.”
He opened another folder.
Inside was a photograph.
A younger man.
I recognized him immediately.
My future son-in-law’s father.
I stared at the photograph.
“That’s his father.”
Daniel nodded.
“His father worked for your wife’s family twenty years ago.”
I felt the room tilt.
“What did he do?”
“He was the financial adviser who managed some of Elizabeth’s father’s assets.”
“And?”
“He was dismissed after several unauthorized transfers were discovered.”
My hands tightened.
“How much?”
“Almost $400,000.”
I stared at him.
“Did Elizabeth know?”
“She was the one who discovered it.”
I sat back.
Suddenly, pieces that had seemed unrelated began connecting.
The strange questions.
The interest in my finances.
The insistence that Scarlet sign certain documents.
The sudden concern about my estate.
The letter.
The secret account.
The fiancé’s father.
“This isn’t about my money,” I whispered.
Daniel looked at me.
“No.”
“It’s revenge.”
“Partly.”
“What does that mean?”
Daniel opened another folder.
“Your son-in-law’s father didn’t act alone.”
My heart stopped.
“Who else?”
Daniel slid a photograph across the desk.
I stared at it.
Then I recognized the woman standing beside him.
The woman from the suit shop.
The same woman whose voice I had heard through the fitting-room wall.
I looked at Daniel.
“Who is she?”
“Her name is Rebecca Hale.”
“What does she have to do with this?”
Daniel’s answer was quiet.
“She was your wife’s sister.”
I stopped breathing.
Elizabeth had a sister?
I had never heard of Rebecca.
Not once.
Daniel saw the confusion on my face.
“Elizabeth cut contact with her twenty-four years ago.”
“Why?”
“Because Rebecca was involved in the original theft.”
I stood.
“You’re telling me my daughter’s fiancé is working with Elizabeth’s sister?”
“Yes.”
“And they want my signature.”
“Yes.”
“And the money?”
“Is only part of it.”
I stared at him.
“What else do they want?”
Daniel opened one final file.
Inside was a document dated eighteen years earlier.
My wife’s handwriting appeared in the margin.
I read the note.
If Rebecca ever comes back, don’t trust anyone who claims to know what happened to my father.
I looked at Daniel.
“What does that mean?”
He hesitated.
“Elizabeth’s father didn’t die naturally.”
The room went silent.
I felt my stomach drop.
“What are you saying?”
“I am saying there were questions about his death.”
“And Elizabeth knew?”
“She suspected someone had caused it.”
“Who?”
Daniel shook his head.
“We never proved it.”
I stared at the documents.
Then something occurred to me.
“The letter.”
Daniel looked up.
“The one for Scarlet.”
“Yes.”
“Why did Elizabeth leave it?”
“Because she wanted Scarlet to know the truth only if the family was threatened.”
I pulled the second envelope from my coat.
Daniel looked at it.
“Don’t open it.”
“I won’t.”
“But Scarlet needs to.”
I nodded.
And for the first time since the nightmare began, I knew what I had to do.
I needed my daughter.
Not against me.
With me.
That evening, Scarlet arrived at my house.
She looked exhausted.
She stood on the porch for several seconds before knocking.
I opened the door.
“Dad.”
“Come in.”
She walked inside.
Neither of us spoke.
She looked around the living room.
Then at the photographs of her mother.
Finally, she whispered:
“You know.”
I didn’t answer.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“How much?”
“Enough.”
She sat down.
I remained standing.
“Tell me everything.”
Scarlet wiped her face.
“I never wanted this.”
“Did you know about the money?”