Chapter 7 - THE MAN WHO WANTED MY SON GONEThe next morning, I moved Ethan and Sarah to a secure property owned by my attorney.
I barely slept.
Every sound made me look toward the windows.
Every passing car made me suspicious.
Ethan noticed.
“Dad?”
I looked at him.
“Yeah?”
“Are we in trouble?”
I knelt.
“No.”
He studied my face.
“Then why do you keep looking outside?”
I didn't know how to answer.
So I hugged him.
“You're safe.”
He wrapped his arms around me.
“Is Mommy staying with us?”
I looked at Sarah.
“Yes.”
His face brightened.
For the first time in three years, my son had both parents under the same roof.
That should have been enough.
But the documents from the vault wouldn't leave my mind.
The boy must never inherit.
My attorney arrived before breakfast.
He brought a stack of files.
“We traced the shell companies.”
“And?”
“The companies are connected to a holding group in Atlanta.”
“Who owns it?”
He hesitated.
“Nathan Hayes.”
I stared at him.
“Nathan was arrested.”
“Released on bail.”
My jaw tightened.
“He knew about Ethan.”
“Yes.”
“Then he is the one.”
“Not necessarily.”
My attorney opened another document.
“Nathan transferred his shares two years ago.”
“To whom?”
He pointed to the name.
Claire Morgan.
My blood ran cold.
“Claire doesn't have that kind of money.”
“She didn't.”
“What changed?”
“She received a large inheritance.”
“From whom?”
He slid another document across the table.
The beneficiary was listed as:
Arthur Bradley.
My father.
I stared.
“That's impossible.”
“He died seven years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Then someone created the transfer after his death.”
We contacted the bank.
The account was real.
The money had moved.
But there was no evidence my father had made the transaction.
Someone had forged his authorization.
The same person who had been using his identity to move money.
I looked at Sarah.
“Who could do that?”
She whispered:
“Someone who had access to his private records.”
I thought about my father's old attorney.
Then Teresa.
Then Claire.
Then Mason.
Suddenly Ethan walked into the room.
He was holding something.
“Dad?”
“What is it?”
He handed me a small envelope.
“I found this in my old room.”
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph of Claire.
But she wasn't alone.
She was standing beside a man.
I knew him.
He had worked for my father.
His name was Robert Kane.
He had supposedly died years ago.
I looked at the photograph.
“When was this taken?”
Ethan shrugged.
“It was under my bed.”
I turned the photo over.
There was a date.
Three days ago.
I stopped breathing.
Robert Kane was alive.
And he had been inside my house.
We searched the property.
Security cameras showed nothing.
Then one camera captured a shadow near the nursery.
At 3:12 AM.
The figure entered.
Stayed for four minutes.
Then left.
The face was hidden.
But the height matched Robert.
The sheriff issued an alert.
Then we discovered something worse.
The person had not been searching for money.
He had been standing over Ethan's crib.
Watching him sleep.
I barely held my anger together.
“He was here.”
Sarah hugged Ethan.
“I know.”
“I should have protected him.”
“You are protecting him now.”
I looked at her.
“For three years, I believed you were dead.”
“I know.”
“I let Claire raise him.”
“You didn't know.”
“But I should have.”
Sarah took my hand.
“You found me.”
A pause.
“You saved me.”
I looked at her.
“And now I'm going to save our son.”
That afternoon, Robert called.
His voice was calm.
“You're looking in the wrong place.”
I immediately recorded the call.
“Where is Claire?”
“Safe.”
“Where?”
“You'll find her when you're ready.”
“What do you want?”
“Nothing.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You've been watching my son.”
“I've been protecting him.”
“From what?”
“From you.”
My blood ran cold.
“What does that mean?”
Robert whispered:
“Ask Sarah what happened the night of the accident.”
Then he hung up.
I turned toward Sarah.
She was already crying.
“What didn't you tell me?”
She shook her head.
“I didn't know how.”
“Tell me now.”
She looked at Ethan.
Then at me.
“The night of the accident…”
She took a shaky breath.
“I wasn't the target.”
I froze.
“Who was?”
May you like
She whispered:
“You.”
