Chapter 4 - The Blackout
The ballroom screamed.
Not loudly at first.
A few startled voices.
Then glass breaking.
Then chairs scraping against the floor.
The emergency lights should have activated immediately.
They did not.
Jonathan grabbed my arm.
“Stay here.”
I pulled away.
“My son is here.”
“So is whoever cut the power.”
Ethan switched on his phone flashlight.
Caroline did the same.
Preston remained strangely still.
“You expected this,” I said.
“No.”
But his voice betrayed him.
Jonathan’s security team appeared at the library entrance.
“One of the service panels was manually disabled.”
“Cameras?” Jonathan asked.
“Offline.”
My mind went immediately to Richard’s message.
Already in danger.
This was not a coincidence.
I looked at Preston.
“Who else knows about that account?”
He did not answer.
Jonathan stepped closer.
“Mr. Whitmore.”
Preston rubbed his forehead.
“Three people.”
“Names.”
“Daniel Mercer.”
“He is supposedly dead,” Jonathan said.
Preston looked at him.
“So was Richard.”
That silenced the room.
“The second?”
“My former chief financial officer, Martin Vale.”
Jonathan nodded.
“And the third?”
Preston looked toward the dark ballroom.
“My brother.”
Caroline stared at him.
“Uncle Grant?”
“Yes.”
I knew Grant Whitmore only by reputation.
He was younger than Preston by six years.
Rarely photographed.
Never attended charity galas.
Never gave interviews.
He controlled the family’s western land holdings and several private funds.
He had not attended the wedding.
Caroline had told people he was ill.
Now I wondered whether that had ever been true.
The lights flickered.
Then returned.
The ballroom erupted in applause from nervous guests.
Inside the library, nobody moved.
Jonathan received a message.
He looked at me.
“We need to leave.”
“Why?”
“One of our vehicles was tampered with.”
Ethan stepped forward.
“What do you mean?”
“Brake line.”
Caroline put a hand over her mouth.
Diana whispered,
“Oh God.”
Preston looked toward Jonathan.
“Which car?”
“The sedan assigned to Elizabeth.”
Every eye turned toward me.
The humiliation at Table 42 suddenly seemed like something that had happened weeks ago.
Jonathan ordered his team to secure a different exit.
I looked at Preston.
“If someone wanted me dead, why wait until tonight?”
“Because before tonight you were an investor.”
He looked toward the cream envelope.
“Now you control the evidence.”
We moved through a service corridor behind the ballroom.
Guests were being encouraged to remain inside while staff blamed the outage on an electrical problem.
I could hear music starting again.
The band trying desperately to restore the wedding.
It sounded grotesque.
A cheerful love song playing while we walked toward a loading entrance surrounded by security.
Then Ethan caught my arm.
“Mom.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
His face fell.
“You don’t trust me.”
“I don’t know what I think.”
“I’m your son.”
“And you knew about suspicious transfers for two years.”
“I made a mistake.”
“That is not the same thing as dropping a glass.”
His eyes filled.
“I was trying to build something.”
“You were trying to impress them.”
The words hurt him.
I could see it.
But they were true.
He looked toward Caroline.
She stood twenty feet away, arguing with her father.
“I loved her.”
“I believe you.”
“Then why does that sound like an accusation?”
“Because love does not require you to erase the people who loved you first.”
He looked down.
For a moment I saw the little boy who used to fall asleep at my kitchen table while I studied investment reports.
Then the moment passed.
Jonathan signaled.
We had to move.
Ethan said,
“I signed more than the documents you saw.”
I stopped.
“What?”
He reached into his jacket.
A flash drive.
“I copied everything from Preston’s office last month.”
Preston saw it.
His face changed.
“Ethan.”
Caroline turned.
“What is that?”
Ethan stared at his father-in-law.
“You told me those transfers were legal.”
“I told you they were protected.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
Preston took a step toward him.
Jonathan’s security guard moved between them.
Ethan handed me the drive.
“I started getting suspicious.”
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
“Because I knew what you would say.”
“And what was that?”
“That I had become desperate to belong here.”
I looked at him.
He swallowed.
“And I knew you would be right.”
Before I could answer, a vehicle roared somewhere beyond the loading area.
Jonathan shouted.
“Back inside.”
Headlights appeared at the far end of the service road.
A black SUV accelerated toward us.
Security moved instantly.
We rushed behind a concrete barrier as the SUV swerved.
It did not strike us.
Instead, it slammed into a parked catering truck.
The driver’s door opened.
A man jumped out and ran toward the vineyard.
Two guards followed.
Jonathan pulled me farther back.
Ethan was beside me.
Caroline screamed from the doorway.
Then Preston said something I would not forget.
“Grant.”
I looked at him.
“You know that driver?”
“No.”
“Then why did you say your brother’s name?”
Preston’s face was gray.
“Because nobody else would be this stupid.”
Minutes later, security returned.
The driver had escaped between the vines.
But he had left something behind.
A phone.
On the screen was a single unsent message.
May you like
TARGET CONFIRMED.
WAITING FOR G.W.’S ORDER.
