Chapter 4
The flash drive fit in the palm of my hand.
It looked harmless.
Cheap black plastic.
Nothing special.
But Linda’s reaction told me it mattered.
She stopped fighting.
Ryan stopped talking.
Even Claire noticed.
“What’s on it?” she asked.
Emma shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Michael immediately said, “Nobody plugs that into anything here.”
He was right.
If the drive contained financial records, I wanted a professional to handle it.
My attorney, Natalie Brooks, arrived twenty minutes later.
She came straight from dinner wearing jeans, a navy blouse, and the expression that had terrified opposing lawyers since college.
Natalie and I had been friends long before she became my attorney.
She hugged me once.
Hard.
Then she stepped back and looked at my knees.
“Who did that?”
I pointed toward the patrol car containing Linda.
Natalie’s jaw tightened.
“Okay.”
That one word sounded dangerous.
We explained everything.
The bracelet.
Emma’s video.
Claire.
The forged transfer.
RLC Holdings.
The flash drive.
Natalie listened without interrupting.
Then she looked at me.
“You’re not going home tonight.”
“My clothes are there.”
“You’re not going alone.”
“My laptop is there too.”
“Police escort.”
She turned to Emma.
“You did the right thing.”
Emma nodded nervously.
Natalie held out a small evidence bag one of the deputies had provided.
“Put the drive inside.”
Emma did.
Then the deputy sealed it.
Because Ryan was being questioned about planting the bracelet and Linda was facing an assault complaint, they were both taken away separately.
Neither was formally charged with the financial issues yet.
That would require investigators.
But as Ryan got into the patrol car, he looked at me through the window.
No apology.
No love.
Just fear.
I finally understood why.
He wasn’t afraid of losing me.
He was afraid of what I would discover.
Michael drove Emma home.
Claire stood beside her Mercedes.
She looked uncertain.
“Sarah.”
I turned.
“I know you have no reason to believe anything I say.”
“That’s true.”
She absorbed it.
“I didn’t know about the bracelet.”
I didn’t respond.
“I didn’t know he was stealing from you.”
Still nothing.
Claire wiped her eyes.
“But there’s something I should show you.”
Natalie immediately stepped closer.
“What?”
Claire opened her purse and pulled out her phone.
“Ryan gave me access to an apartment.”
My stomach tightened.
“What apartment?”
“In Uptown.”
“His?”
“He said it belonged to the company.”
RLC Holdings.
Of course.
Claire unlocked her phone and showed us photographs.
The apartment was expensive.
Floor-to-ceiling windows.
Designer furniture.
A view of downtown Dallas.
Then she swiped to a picture of Ryan holding champagne.
Another of him sitting on a balcony.
Another of him beside a Christmas tree.
I recognized the tree.
I had bought those ornaments.
They had disappeared from our attic last December.
Ryan told me movers must have accidentally thrown away the box.
I stared at the picture.
“He decorated your affair apartment with my Christmas ornaments.”
Claire looked sick.
“I thought they were his.”
Natalie muttered something under her breath.
I kept swiping.
Then I saw a desk.
On it sat several folders.
One was labeled CARTER FAMILY TRUST.
My father’s trust.
“Stop.”
Claire froze.
I zoomed in.
“What is that?”
“I don’t know.”
“When was this picture taken?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“Are those documents still there?”
“I think so.”
Natalie looked at Claire.
“Do you have legal access to the apartment?”
“Yes. Ryan gave me a key.”
“Then we’re going.”
I stared at her.
“Tonight?”
Natalie nodded.
“Tonight.”
The apartment was twenty-five minutes away.
I rode with Natalie while Claire followed.
During the drive, my phone exploded with messages.
Ryan’s aunt.
His cousin.
Two family friends.
Then people from church.
Sarah, I heard there was an incident.
Please don’t destroy your marriage over one misunderstanding.
Linda is devastated.
Families make mistakes.
Ryan loves you.
I blocked every number.
Then my own phone rang from an unknown caller.
I answered.
“Hello?”
“Sarah?”
It was a man.
“Yes?”
“This is David Mercer.”
My breath caught.
David had worked for my father.
He had managed accounting for Dad’s company for almost fifteen years.
We had not spoken in months.
“David?”
“I just got a strange email.”
“What kind?”
“It came from Ryan.”
I sat straighter.
Natalie glanced at me.
“What did it say?”
“He wants me to confirm your father intended Ryan to become a beneficiary of the trust.”
My blood turned cold.
“When did he send it?”
“About an hour ago.”
Ryan had been in police custody an hour ago.
Unless the email had been scheduled.
Or someone else sent it.
“What exactly did he ask?”
David hesitated.
“He said there may be a dispute and that you’re emotionally unstable.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was again.
The same story.
Unstable Sarah.
Crazy Sarah.
Emotional Sarah.
Thieving Sarah.
A narrative carefully built before anyone needed it.
David continued.
“He offered me fifty thousand dollars.”
Natalie heard that.
“Put him on speaker.”
I did.
Natalie introduced herself.
David agreed to forward the email.
Then he said something that made my stomach drop.
“Sarah, this isn’t the first time Ryan contacted me.”
“When else?”
“About four months ago.”
“What did he want?”
“He asked questions about your father’s estate.”
My hands clenched.
“What questions?”
“How the trust could be accessed if you became incapacitated.”
I stopped breathing.
Natalie looked at me sharply.
David kept speaking.
“I thought he was doing estate planning. He said you two were thinking about having children.”
“We weren’t.”
Silence.
Then David said softly, “I’m sorry.”
“When he said incapacitated, what exactly did he ask?”
“He wanted to know who controlled the trust if a court decided you couldn’t manage your own finances.”
Natalie’s face hardened.
“Who would?”
David answered.
“Her spouse, depending on the circumstances and the trust provisions.”
I looked out the window at the Dallas skyline.
Suddenly the forged theft accusation felt different.
It wasn’t only about making me leave.
It was about making me look unstable.
Dishonest.
Criminal.
Maybe incapable.
A cold wave ran through me.
“David, did my father ever say anything about Ryan?”
Long pause.
“Yes.”
My heart began pounding.
“What?”
“Your father didn’t trust him.”
I looked at Natalie.
She had heard.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because your father asked me not to interfere unless something happened.”
“What something?”
David exhaled.
“He left a sealed letter.”
My eyes filled immediately.
“A letter?”
“For you.”
“Where?”
“In my office safe.”
I hadn’t heard my father’s voice in three years.
Even knowing it was only a letter made grief crash through me.
“What does it say?”
“I never opened it.”
“Why now?”
“Because your father wrote instructions on the envelope.”
My voice broke.
“What instructions?”
David read them slowly.
“Give this to Sarah if Ryan ever asks about controlling her inheritance.”
Natalie pulled the car over.
Neither of us spoke.
I pressed a hand over my mouth.
Dad knew.
Somehow, before I saw anything, my father had seen enough.
Natalie reached over and squeezed my shoulder.
David said, “I can bring it to you tonight.”
“Yes.”
My voice barely worked.
“Please.”
We reached the Uptown apartment twenty minutes later.
Claire unlocked the door.
The first thing I smelled was Ryan’s cologne.
His shoes sat by the entrance.
His jacket hung over a chair.
A framed photograph rested on a shelf.
Ryan and Claire in Cabo.
The date printed in the corner showed it had been taken while Ryan told me he was attending a business conference in Phoenix.
Claire saw me looking.
“I’m sorry.”
I kept walking.
I couldn’t afford to feel everything yet.
If I started crying, I was afraid I would never stop.
We reached the desk.
The trust folder was gone.
Claire frowned.
“It was here.”
Natalie looked around.
“Do not touch anything.”
I noticed the desk drawer was open.
Inside was an empty space shaped by dust.
Something had recently been removed.
Then Claire walked toward the bedroom.
A second later, she screamed.
Natalie and I ran.
The room had been destroyed.
Mattress cut open.
Closet emptied.
Drawers dumped.
Bathroom cabinet smashed.
Someone had searched the apartment.
Recently.
Claire whispered, “This wasn’t like this when I left.”
“When did you leave?” Natalie asked.
“Four this afternoon.”
A small sound came from the hallway.
We all froze.
Footsteps.
Natalie grabbed my arm.
Someone was inside the apartment.
Claire reached for her phone.
The footsteps stopped.
Then a man’s voice came from the living room.
“Claire?”
She went white.
I recognized the voice too.
It wasn’t Ryan.
May you like
It was Ryan’s father.
Thomas Carter had supposedly been dead for two years.
