Chapter 5 - The Last Visitor
Ethan answered on the first ring.
“Mary.”
“Where are you?”
“At the hotel.”
“Stay there.”
“What happened?”
“Stay there.”
I hung up.
My father wanted to come.
I refused.
Victor wanted to disappear.
Dad refused.
Thirty minutes later, I walked back into the Solmere Grand Hotel wearing black trousers instead of a wedding gown.
The lobby had transformed.
Guests were gone.
Flowers remained.
Hundreds of white roses lined the grand staircase like decorations for a funeral.
Ethan waited in the presidential suite.
Alone this time.
He looked destroyed.
Good.
I placed the photograph on the table.
He stared.
Then sat down.
Not denial.
Recognition.
“You were with my mother the night she died.”
“Yes.”
Every nerve in my body seemed to tighten.
“Why did you lie?”
“I never told you I wasn’t.”
“That is the kind of sentence guilty people use when they’re trying to make deception sound technically legal.”
He looked away.
“What happened?”
“Your mother called me.”
“At two in the morning?”
“Eleven forty.”
“The photograph is at two forty-one.”
“We argued for hours.”
“About what?”
“You.”
My stomach turned.
“Explain.”
“She knew how we met.”
“Everything?”
“Yes.”
“When did she find out?”
“A few weeks earlier.”
“What did she want?”
“For me to leave you.”
I stared.
“And you refused.”
“Yes.”
“Because you needed Whitmore money?”
“At first, maybe.”
“Wrong answer.”
“I’m not going to lie to you now.”
“You had four years to develop that philosophy.”
His jaw tightened.
“I told her I loved you.”
I laughed.
“You were sleeping with Brooke.”
“Not then.”
“Congratulations.”
His face crumpled slightly.
I felt nothing useful.
“What happened next?”
“Your mother showed me evidence of Victor’s guarantee.”
“He says you knew.”
“I knew it existed.”
“How?”
“Victor told me.”
“Did you know he hid it from my father?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know it could cost Whitmore six hundred million?”
“Not when it started.”
“But later.”
“Yes.”
I walked toward the window.
Below us, hotel workers dismantled the wedding.
“Mom wanted you to confess.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I agreed.”
I turned.
“What?”
“She gave me forty-eight hours.”
“To do what?”
“Tell you everything.”
“You didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
He looked at his hands.
“Because by the time I left her office, I knew telling you would end us.”
“That was the point.”
“I was afraid.”
I almost smiled at the familiarity.
Everyone was afraid.
Victor was afraid.
Ethan was afraid.
Adrian was afraid.
Fear had become the architect of my life.
“What happened to my mother after you left?”
“I don’t know.”
“What time did you leave?”
“Two fifty-eight.”
“She was found at three twelve.”
“Yes.”
“Fourteen minutes.”
He looked at me.
“I did not hurt your mother.”
“Did you give her anything?”
“No.”
“Did she drink?”
“Tea.”
“From where?”
“Kitchen.”
“Who made it?”
“She did.”
I studied him.
He was either telling the truth or had spent three years preparing.
“What else happened?”
“She made a call.”
“To whom?”
“I don’t know.”
“When?”
“Maybe two thirty.”
“Did she say anything?”
“She said, ‘You have until sunrise.’”
My skin prickled.
“To you?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
I opened my mother’s archived phone records on my tablet.
There was no outgoing call at two thirty.
But that didn’t mean she hadn’t used another phone.
“Anything else?”
Ethan hesitated.
“There was an envelope.”
“What envelope?”
“She put documents inside.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“You saw her do it.”
“Yes.”
“She wrote something on the front.”
“What?”
His eyes met mine.
“For Mary, if I fail.”
I couldn’t breathe for a moment.
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You left it there?”
“Yes.”
“And when you returned?”
“I never returned.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“Because at six in the morning Victor called and told me she was dead.”
“Victor knew you were there?”
“He sent me.”
The room went silent.
“What?”
“Your mother threatened to expose him.”
“So he sent you to persuade her.”
“Yes.”
“Did he know you stayed until three?”
“Yes.”
“Did he ask about the envelope?”
Ethan’s expression changed.
There.
The thing he did not want to answer.
“Ethan.”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked whether Eleanor left anything for you.”
“And?”
“I said I didn’t know.”
“Did he believe you?”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“What happened after Mom died?”
“Victor told me to stay quiet about the meeting.”
“Why?”
“He said your father would blame me.”
“Would he have been wrong?”
“No.”
His phone vibrated.
He ignored it.
Then mine rang.
Samuel.
I answered.
“Mary, we found something.”
“What?”
“An amendment to the Cole stabilization agreement.”
“From when?”
“Executed the morning after Eleanor’s death.”
I looked at Ethan.
“Signed by whom?”
Samuel hesitated.
“Your mother.”
I felt cold.
“That’s impossible.”
“Yes.”
“Mom was dead.”
“I know.”
“What did the amendment do?”
Silence.
“Samuel?”
“It removed one of Covenant Seven’s protections.”
“Which one?”
“The clause preventing Victor Whitmore from becoming successor trustee.”
I stared at Ethan.
May you like
Someone forged my dead mother’s signature less than twelve hours after her death.
And whoever did it had tried to put control of Ethan’s company into my uncle’s hands.
