Chapter 4 - MY FATHER’S LAST FILEI read the sentence six times.
Rachel took the letter because my hands would not stop trembling.
My father had written it seventeen days before he died.
He described irregularities inside Bennett Hospitality.
Shell companies.
Loans against nonexistent properties.
Charitable funds redirected to operating accounts.
Then Daniel’s name.
My husband.
My almost-husband.
Whatever he was.
Dad had investigated him quietly after Daniel proposed.
He found Daniel had accessed public filings related to my inheritance months before our first date.
I felt physically sick.
Our first meeting had been at a museum fundraiser.
Daniel spilled champagne on my program.
We laughed.
He bought me coffee.
I had told the story hundreds of times.
Apparently, it had not been an accident.
Dad wrote:
He knew who you were before you knew who he was.
I cried then.
Not elegantly.
Not quietly.
Rachel let me.
Afterward, we opened the flash drive.
One folder contained Bennett financial records.
Another contained recordings.
Dad’s voice.
Daniel’s.
The first recording was from a private lunch.
Dad:
“What happens if Claire refuses to transfer the note?”
Daniel:
“She won’t.”
Dad:
“You sound confident.”
Daniel laughed.
“She trusts me.”
I stopped the recording.
I could not breathe.
Rachel reached for the laptop.
I shook my head.
“Continue.”
Dad:
“And if she doesn’t?”
Daniel:
“Then we find another structure.”
Dad:
“Like Allison?”
Silence.
Then Daniel’s voice changed.
“You spoke to her.”
Dad:
“Yes.”
Daniel:
“That woman is unstable.”
Dad:
“That’s convenient.”
I stared at the screen.
The recording ended.
Next file.
Dad speaking alone.
“Claire, Harold Finch knows about this investigation. If anything happens to me, do not let him control the estate process.”
Rachel looked shocked.
“Harold attended your father’s funeral.”
“I know.”
“He also called me afterward asking about the convertible note.”
I stared.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought it was routine.”
Everyone had missed pieces.
Together, they formed a trap.
Then my phone buzzed.
Daniel.
Twenty-seven missed calls.
One message:
PLEASE COME HOME. MOM HAS BEEN ARRESTED.
I stared.
Margaret?
Arrested?
Rachel called a contact.
Ten minutes later we knew why.
Police had searched the Bennett mansion after receiving an anonymous tip about forged documents.
They found my authentication key.
In Margaret’s handbag.
Along with notary equipment belonging to Harold Finch.
It looked terrible for her.
Almost too terrible.
Rachel said exactly what I was thinking.
“Someone is setting Margaret up.”
“Daniel?”
“Maybe.”
I remembered their argument.
The fear between them.
Margaret had been complicit.
But perhaps she was not the architect.
I called Daniel.
He answered immediately.
“Claire.”
“Why was my key in your mother’s bag?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bad answer.”
“I swear.”
“Where is Harold?”
Silence.
“Daniel.”
“He’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
“No one knows.”
“Convenient.”
Daniel sounded exhausted.
“You have to believe me about one thing.”
“What?”
“My mother helped with the paperwork.”
“I know.”
“But she didn’t create the plan.”
“Who did?”
Another silence.
Then Daniel said:
“Me.”
I closed my eyes.
At least one truth.
“I was trying to save the company.”
“You targeted me before we met.”
He said nothing.
“My father recorded you.”
That changed everything.
“What recording?”
“Scared?”
“Claire.”
“My father said his heart attack wasn’t natural.”
Daniel’s breathing stopped.
“What?”
I listened carefully.
That sounded real.
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
Daniel whispered:
“Harold.”
Rachel and I looked at each other.
Daniel continued:
“Your father met Harold the night before he died.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Harold asked me to arrange it.”
My pulse accelerated.
“Where?”
“At the Bennett Club.”
“Why?”
“I thought they were discussing the note.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Daniel said:
“But Claire… Harold wasn’t alone.”
I waited.
“Who was with him?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Allison.”
My blood went cold.
The woman who had just called me.
May you like
The woman claiming to be Daniel’s victim.
Had secretly met my father hours before his death.
