Chapter 6 - While They Were in Cabo
My house had six exterior cameras.
At least, I thought it did.
When Nolan’s security team checked them, two had been disabled three days earlier.
Not broken.
Disabled through the home automation system.
Using Derek’s account.
He still had access because he had practically moved in after our engagement.
I had never considered changing permissions.
Why would I?
I trusted the man I planned to marry.
Marcus pulled footage from a neighbor’s camera instead.
At 2:13 a.m., while Derek and Clara were supposedly in Cabo, a black sedan stopped behind my townhouse.
A man entered through the rear door.
He used a key.
He remained inside for twenty-nine minutes.
The video was too dark to show his face.
But Nolan had another camera angle.
When the man returned to the sedan, light from a garage illuminated him.
Thomas Voss.
My attorney.
Clara had given him the key.
“What was he looking for?” I asked.
Marcus answered.
“We don’t know.”
“I have documents there.”
“Which ones?”
“Wedding files.”
“Financial records?”
“Some.”
“Passwords?”
“No.”
Nolan looked at me.
“Your father’s letter?”
“It’s here.”
“Anything connected to the trust?”
I thought.
Then remembered.
“My grandfather’s ring.”
Nolan frowned.
“What?”
“Dad gave me Granddad’s signet ring.”
“Where is it?”
“In my bedroom safe.”
“Why would anyone care?”
“I don’t know.”
Marcus left to check.
Twenty minutes later, he called.
The ring was gone.
Nothing else appeared missing.
Nolan stood in our father’s office holding the phone.
“That means something.”
“Obviously.”
“Signet rings were sometimes used for corporate authentication in older family structures.”
“You think there’s a seal?”
“Possibly.”
We examined photocopies of Whitmore Holdings documents.
At the bottom of several original agreements was an embossed mark.
A crest.
The same crest carved into Granddad’s ring.
My skin prickled.
“What could they do with it?”
“Fabricate older authorizations.”
“Would those hold up?”
“Not under serious scrutiny.”
“But long enough to close a deal?”
“Maybe.”
Meridian’s board meeting was less than twenty-four hours away.
Nolan paced.
“They’re assembling layers.”
“Forged signature.”
“Signet.”
“Compromised attorney.”
“Future spousal authority.”
I continued.
“And a best friend willing to call me unstable.”
He looked at me.
“Yes.”
My phone vibrated.
A photograph from Clara.
Ocean.
Sunset.
No people.
Thinking of you.
Mom is sleeping.
I almost admired the audacity.
I typed back.
Beautiful.
Give your mom my love.
Nolan watched.
“You’re getting good at this.”
“I hate that.”
“You’ll hate losing more.”
Before I could respond, the front door opened.
Marcus entered with a folder.
“Blue Crest moved money.”
“How much?” Nolan asked.
“Eleven million.”
“To where?”
“Three accounts.”
He gave us the destinations.
Cayman Islands.
Switzerland.
Singapore.
“Can you freeze them?” I asked.
Nolan shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“Why does everything require waiting?”
“Because once we freeze money, they know we’re onto them.”
“They already might.”
“Then we find out.”
Marcus added.
“There’s another transfer scheduled for tomorrow.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-three million.”
Exactly the remainder of the proposed property sale.
My pulse quickened.
“So after Meridian buys my property, Blue Crest takes the money.”
“Yes.”
“And Derek owns Blue Crest.”
“Seventy-five percent.”
“Clara twenty-five.”
“Yes.”
I stared at the wall.
Then something occurred to me.
“Why give Clara twenty-five percent?”
Nolan glanced over.
“What do you mean?”
“If she’s just his mistress, why make her a legal partner?”
“Good question.”
“Derek doesn’t share control.”
I knew that much.
Even choosing a restaurant could become a negotiation if he hadn’t selected it first.
“He definitely doesn’t give away millions for romance.”
Nolan sat down.
“So Clara provides something.”
“What?”
We began examining everything we knew about her.
Clara Morgan.
Thirty years old.
Raised in Milwaukee.
Mother supposedly ill.
Father deceased.
Marketing consultant.
No major assets.
No criminal history.
Then Marcus found an inconsistency.
“There are two Clara Morgans.”
“What?”
“Same date of birth.”
Different middle names.
The Social Security information attached to Blue Crest belonged to Clara Elise Morgan.
My Clara was Clara Anne Morgan.
I stared.
“Identity theft?”
“Possibly.”
“Whose identity did they use?”
Marcus typed.
The result appeared.
Clara Elise Morgan had died eleven years earlier.
Car accident.
I felt cold.
“Why use a dead woman’s identity?”
Nolan answered.
“Because someone doesn’t want the actual twenty-five-percent owner identified.”
“Then Clara might not own it.”
“Exactly.”
“Who does?”
Marcus traced incorporation documents.
One filing contained an unredacted contact number.
He searched it.
My stomach tightened before he even spoke.
The number belonged to Richard Hale.
Derek’s father.
So Blue Crest was not really Derek and Clara.
It was Derek and Richard.
Then why had Clara supplied the documents?
Nolan said what I was thinking.
“She may not be Derek’s partner.”
“She may be working for his father.”
“And possibly against Derek.”
My phone rang again.
This time it was Clara.
I answered.
“Hey.”
Her voice shook.
“Emily?”
“What’s wrong?”
“I need to tell you something.”
I looked at Nolan.
He activated a recorder.
Clara whispered.
“Can you meet me tomorrow night?”
“Aren’t you with your mom?”
Silence.
Then she began crying.
“I lied.”
Every nerve in my body tightened.
“About what?”
“Everything.”
I waited.
“Emily, Derek is not who you think he is.”
I almost laughed.
Instead I whispered.
“What are you talking about?”
She took a shaky breath.
“You can’t marry him.”
Then I heard Derek’s voice in the background.
“Clara?”
Her breathing stopped.
“Who are you talking to?”
The call ended.
Ten seconds later, Clara sent one text.
May you like
IF I DON’T COME HOME, LOOK INSIDE THE BRIDESMAID DRESS I LEFT AT YOUR HOUSE.
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