Chapter 11: The Target Was Me
My father grabbed my shoulders.
"Listen to me, Nia. Whatever happens, you stay behind me.""
I couldn't move.
Edward had wanted me dead.
Not my father.
Not just my mother.
Me.
I remembered the back seat of the car. The yellow blanket. My mother's hand reaching backward to touch my knee.
A tiny memory returned.
A man's voice outside.
A door opening.
My mother screaming.
I pressed both hands against my temples.
"Why?""
Nobody answered.
Then Vanessa spoke.
"Because your mother had discovered the trust agreement.""
I turned toward her.
"What?""
"Edward knew about the shares. He knew your mother had transferred everything into a trust for you. If something happened to both your parents, he believed he could gain control of the assets through the company.""
James shook his head.
"That would never have been legally possible.""
Vanessa laughed without humor.
"Edward didn't care about the law. He believed he could manipulate the courts, the police, and anyone who stood in his way.""
My father looked furious.
"He planned to eliminate his witnesses.""
Vanessa nodded.
"He told me Thomas was going to be blamed for the accident. He said your mother would be dead, and you would disappear into the system.""
I stepped backward.
"You knew?""
Vanessa looked at me.
"I didn't know he intended to kill you.""
"But you knew he planned something.""
She began crying.
"Yes.""
My father moved toward her.
"You helped him arrange it.""
"I was afraid!""
"You helped him arrange the death of my wife!""
Vanessa flinched.
Edward knocked again.
This time, he spoke directly to Marcus.
"Son, open the door.""
Marcus looked toward the entrance.
Then he turned to me.
"Don't let him inside.""
I almost laughed.
"Now you want to protect me?""
His eyes filled.
"I know I don't deserve your trust.""
"No, you don't.""
"I should have told you about the photograph. I should have told you what I remembered.""
"Why didn't you?""
"Because my father spent years telling me that if I spoke, he'd make sure I went to prison for helping him.""
"You were nine years old.""
"I know.""
His voice cracked.
"And that's why I've hated myself ever since.""
Before I could respond, James raised his hand.
"Everyone, listen.""
He pointed toward the hallway.
There was a second entrance at the back of the property.
A shadow moved behind the frosted glass.
Someone was coming inside.
My father grabbed the cassette player.
"Olivia, take Nia through the kitchen.""
Olivia caught my hand.
We ran.
Behind us, I heard the front door finally open.
Edward's voice filled the house.
"Where is my wife?""
Then Marcus shouted.
"Don't come any closer!""
I turned just before reaching the kitchen.
Edward stood in the hallway.
He was a tall man with silver hair and an expensive charcoal suit. His face was remarkably calm.
He looked at me.
Then he smiled.
"Nia Carter. You've grown up.""
I froze.
He took one step forward.
"Your mother would be very proud of you.""
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I stared at him.
"You killed her.""
Edward sighed.
"Your father has always been dramatic.""
My father appeared behind him.
"Say her name again.""
Edward turned.
"Thomas. Still playing the grieving husband?""
My father moved forward.
James stepped between them.
"Edward, the police are on their way.""
Edward adjusted his cuff.
"Then perhaps we should all wait.""
Vanessa suddenly emerged from the living room.
"Edward, stop.""
He looked at her.
"You were supposed to stay in the hospital.""
"You told me you were going to destroy the evidence.""
Edward's smile disappeared.
"I told you to do many things.""
Marcus stepped beside his mother.
"Did you put me in that car because you wanted Nia dead?""
Edward looked at his son.
For the first time, his expression changed.
"You're remembering things incorrectly.""
"I remember the bridge.""
"You're confused.""
"I remember the blood on your shirt.""
Edward's jaw tightened.
Then he looked at Vanessa.
"This is your fault.""
She shook her head.
"No. I'm finished protecting you.""
Edward laughed.
"Really? After everything we've done?""
He reached inside his jacket.
James shouted.
"Don't move!""
But Edward pulled out a folded document.
He placed it on the hallway table.
"Since everyone wants the truth, let's discuss the inheritance.""
I stared at the paper.
It was a legal agreement bearing my name.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
I stepped closer.
"What is that?""
Edward smiled.
"Your mother signed away her controlling interest before she died.""
I looked at James.
He examined the document.
His expression darkened.
"This is a forgery.""
Edward shrugged.
"Prove it.""
My father snatched the paper.
Then he stopped.
His face had become completely white.
"What?"" I asked.
He turned the document toward me.
At the top was a date.
The date of my mother's death.
And beside her signature was another signature.
*Thomas Carter.*
My father stared at it.
"I never signed this.""
Edward smiled.
"Perhaps you should ask your wife.""
I stepped forward.
"She's dead.""
Edward leaned toward me.
"Not every signature on that document came from a living person.""
Before I could respond, sirens sounded outside.
Edward looked toward the front door.
Then he leaned close enough for me to smell his cologne.
"Enjoy your little victory, Nia.""
He straightened.
"Because the original trust isn't what you think it is.""
The police entered moments later.
Edward was taken into custody for questioning. Vanessa was escorted to an ambulance after becoming visibly distressed.
But I barely noticed.
I was staring at the forged agreement.
James had found something written in tiny print along the bottom.
A reference number.
He checked it against the blue folder.
Then his face changed.
"Nia, this isn't just a forgery.""
"What is it?""
He looked at Richard's trust agreement.
"Your mother created a second trust.""
I frowned.
"Why?""
James lowered his voice.
"Because she suspected someone inside the family would eventually try to steal the first one.""
He turned the document over.
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And beneath the legal reference number was a handwritten instruction.
The second beneficiary must never be revealed until the first is protected.
