Chapter 4 - The Other File

Detective Ruiz brought in a financial crimes investigator named Owen Price.

He was calm, precise, and irritatingly unwilling to make dramatic conclusions.

“That signature may be forged,” he said, “but we need examination, document history, notary records, and transaction data.”

“It is forged.”

“I believe you believe that.”

Claire bristled.

“She knows whether she signed away her own house.”

Price did not flinch.

“In court, certainty is evidence plus authentication.”

I surprised both of them by saying, “He’s right.”

Claire looked at me.

“I’m tired of Daniel winning arguments because everyone assumes. I want proof.”

Price nodded.

“Good.”

He asked who had handled our closing documents, refinancing, taxes, and insurance.

The answer was Daniel.

He asked whether I had ever signed papers without reading them.

I hated the question.

“Yes.”

“How often?”

“Sometimes he brought things to my desk and said they were tax forms or insurance renewals.”

“Did you sign electronically?”

“Sometimes.”

“Did you use a shared password?”

“For our document portal.”

Claire groaned softly.

Price only wrote.

“We’ll reconstruct access.”

That afternoon, Sophie was discharged.

She was medically stable but still weak, and the hospital gave me pages of instructions.

Tessa arranged a confidential apartment through a victim-support program. Claire stayed with us.

Sophie looked around the small living room.

“Are we poor now?”

The question startled me.

“No.”

“Daddy said people who leave their husbands end up poor.”

Claire’s face went rigid.

I sat beside Sophie.

“Sometimes people have less money for a while. Sometimes they don’t. But money is not the same as safety.”

“Is Daddy rich?”

“Daddy has money.”

“Is he safe?”

I swallowed.

“Not for us right now.”

She accepted that answer more easily than I did.

Two days later, Price called.

“We found the notary.”

“And?”

“She denies witnessing your signature.”

I stood at the kitchen counter.

“Then why is her seal on the document?”

“She says Daniel brought several documents to her office where she works as an assistant at his firm. She notarized his signature. She says your signature was not present at the time.”

“So someone added it.”

“That is one possibility.”

“One?”

“Another is that she is lying.”

I almost laughed.

“You really do hate conclusions.”

“I like conclusions that survive court.”

He continued.

“There’s more. V.H. Family Holdings was formed eight months ago. Vivian is the manager. Daniel is the registered agent.”

“Of course.”

“The deed transfer happened two months later.”

“What did they pay for the house?”

“One dollar and other consideration.”

My stomach tightened.

“My inheritance paid most of the down payment.”

“We’re tracing that.”

Then Price asked a question that seemed unrelated.

“Did your mother leave anything else to Sophie?”

“No. She died before Sophie was born.”

“Any trust?”

“No.”

“Life insurance?”

“Not for Sophie.”

“Why?”

“We found an insurance policy.”

I gripped the counter.

“On me?”

“On Sophie.”

The room went silent.

Claire, standing beside me, mouthed, What?

“What kind of policy?”

“A whole life policy. Face value is modest, not the kind of amount I’d connect to a homicide motive. Twenty-five thousand dollars.”

I exhaled, then hated myself for being relieved by a number.

“Who bought it?”

“Vivian.”

“Can she do that?”

“Grandparents can sometimes purchase coverage with required consent and insurable interest rules depending on the policy and jurisdiction. We’re checking the application.”

“Why would she?”

“That’s what we want to know.”

I looked toward the bedroom where Sophie was napping.

“When was it issued?”

“Seven years ago. Shortly after Sophie’s birth.”

That made it less sinister, yet not comforting.

“Is Daniel connected?”

“He’s the contingent owner if Vivian dies.”

A knock sounded at the apartment door.

Claire moved immediately.

We had been told never to open without checking.

Through the peephole, she saw Tessa.

I let her in.

She carried a padded envelope.

“This was delivered to the advocacy office because your mailing address is protected.”

“From who?”

“No return name.”

Inside was a flash drive and a note.

MARA — HE KEPT TWO FILES.

Nothing else.

Ruiz told me not to plug the drive into anything. An officer collected it.

“Who knows where you are?” Ruiz asked.

“Claire. Tessa. The hospital. Police.”

“The sender may not know. They used the advocacy office address, which is public.”

“Who would know Daniel kept files?”

Ruiz looked at me.

“Someone who worked with him.”

Daniel was a senior partner at Hale, Weston & Reed, a property development firm.

Dozens of employees.

Thousands of emails.

Years of secrets.

The next evening, Ruiz called.

The flash drive was clean enough for forensic review.

“What’s on it?”

“Scanned documents, photographs, and exported emails.”

“About me?”

“Some.”

“About Sophie?”

“Yes.”

My chest tightened.

“What kind?”

“School reports. Medical records. Notes about discipline.”

I closed my eyes.

“And the second file?”

Ruiz paused.

“The second file appears to concern Daniel.”

“What does that mean?”

“It contains records someone was collecting about him.”

“Who?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“Records of what?”

“Payments.”

“To whom?”

“A private investigator.”

I felt cold.

“Why was Daniel paying a private investigator?”

“He wasn’t.”

Ruiz let the silence settle.

“Vivian was paying someone to investigate Daniel.”

I stared at the wall.

May you like

[COMPLETED] “GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY DRESS! YOU’RE NOTHING BUT AN OLD SEAM...

[COMPLETED] At the Mafia Boss's Engagement Party, I Served His Hungry So...

[COMPLETED] The Mafia Boss’s Fiancée Tried to Dismiss His Father’s Loyal...

The family I had believed was united had been spying on itself.

And according to the oldest email on the drive, Vivian had started the investigation almost three years ago.