Chapter 2 - THE HOUSE MY MOTHER NEVER SOLD
We left the mansion before sunrise.
My mother sat beside me in the car.
She hadn't slept.
Neither had I.
Arthur, my head of security, followed us in another vehicle.
When we reached Mom's neighborhood, everything looked normal.
Too normal.
The small houses.
The quiet streets.
The old oak trees.
The bakery where Mom bought bread every morning.
Nothing suggested that someone was trying to steal her property.
Then we saw the house.
The front door was open.
Mom gasped.
“That wasn't open when I left.”
I immediately stepped out.
Arthur stopped me.
“Let me check first.”
He entered.
A minute later, he called:
“Clear.”
Mom walked inside.
Everything looked untouched.
Except for the study.
The drawers had been opened.
Files were scattered across the desk.
I looked at the wall.
A photograph was missing.
“What photograph?”
Mom pointed.
“My wedding photo.”
I frowned.
“Why would anyone take that?”
She looked at the empty space.
“I don't know.”
Then she suddenly sat down.
Her hands began shaking.
“Ethan.”
“What?”
“There was something behind that photograph.”
I turned.
“What?”
“A letter.”
“From Dad?”
“No.”
She hesitated.
“From your grandfather.”
I froze.
My grandfather had died when I was a child.
“What did it say?”
Mom looked toward the hallway.
“I never told you because I was afraid.”
“Mom.”
She closed her eyes.
“Your grandfather didn't die peacefully.”
I stared at her.
“What happened?”
“He was investigating money that disappeared from the family company.”
“Who stole it?”
“I never found out.”
She swallowed.
“But before he died, he told me something.”
“What?”
“That the person responsible wasn't outside the family.”
I felt a chill.
“Who?”
“He said, 'Never trust the man who calls himself family.'”
Thomas.
The words immediately returned to me.
I looked around the room.
“Where is the letter?”
Mom shook her head.
“It was behind the photograph.”
“So whoever took the photograph took the letter.”
“Yes.”
Arthur entered the room.
“We have a problem.”
“What?”
He held up his phone.
“Someone accessed the house security system last night.”
“Who?”
“The access code belonged to Vanessa.”
My blood ran cold.
“Vanessa?”
Arthur nodded.
“She accessed the cameras at 2:14 a.m.”
“Why?”
“She was looking at this house.”
I stared at the screen.
The footage showed Vanessa standing outside Mom's house.
She wasn't alone.
Thomas was beside her.
They were talking.
I watched the recording.
Vanessa handed him an envelope.
Thomas opened it.
Then he looked toward the house.
My fists tightened.
“That's enough.”
I turned toward the door.
Arthur stopped me.
“Where are you going?”
“To find Vanessa.”
“She may know we're watching.”
“Good.”
We drove back to the mansion.
Vanessa was gone.
Security had searched every room.
Her clothes were missing.
Her passport was gone.
So was her jewelry.
She had fled.
But she had left one thing behind.
A laptop.
The attorney opened it.
There were dozens of files.
Bank transfers.
Property maps.
Corporate documents.
And photographs.
Hundreds of them.
Most showed Mom.
Some showed me.
Others showed my father.
I opened one folder.
The title was:
PROJECT CARTER — FINAL ACQUISITION.
Inside was a complete plan.
Thomas wasn't simply trying to buy Mom's house.
He was trying to acquire every property connected to my family.
Including mine.
The final page contained a list of obstacles.
There were three names.
My mother.
Me.
And Vanessa.
Beside Vanessa's name was one word:
REMOVE.
I stared at the screen.
Vanessa wasn't the mastermind.
She was being used too.
Or perhaps she had joined willingly.
Then another file appeared.
A private contract.
It showed that Vanessa would receive twenty million dollars if she helped Thomas obtain control of my company.
My hands went cold.
She hadn't married me for love.
She had married me for access.
The attorney looked at me.
“Mr. Carter…”
I stared at the contract.
“How long?”
“According to this document…”
He paused.
“Before your wedding.”
I felt something inside me break.
Seven years.
Seven years of marriage.
All built on a lie.
Then a message appeared on the laptop.
You should have stayed at the party.
Another message appeared.
Your mother knows where the original deed is.
I turned toward Mom.
She looked terrified.
“What original deed?”
She whispered:
“I don't know.”
Then suddenly her expression changed.
“Yes.”
“What?”
She stood slowly.
“There is one place.”
“Where?”
May you like
She looked at the floor.
“Your father's old workshop.”
