Chapter 13 - Six Hours Until Everything Changed
The Covenant was gone.
The hidden safe had been opened without damage.
Whoever entered knew the code.
Only three living people knew it.
Mom.
Me.
Martin.
Or so we thought.
Security footage had been erased.
But the neighbor’s doorbell camera caught a man leaving.
Peter Lang.
The notary who claimed I signed the forged transfer.
Police found him two hours later.
He denied everything.
Until Rebecca showed him the jewelry-store footage of Martin admitting enough about Aurelian to make cooperation seem attractive.
Peter broke.
Martin had paid him.
The forged signature had been produced by a professional document artist hired through one of Aurelian’s private firms.
Jonathan authorized the use.
Vivienne provided signature samples.
Grant accepted the finished transfer without asking questions.
Four people.
Four levels of guilt.
Nobody innocent.
But Peter gave us something more important.
Martin had not ordered him to destroy the Covenant.
He ordered him to deliver it.
“To whom?” I asked.
Peter looked terrified.
“Eleanor Mercer.”
I stared at Mom.
“What?”
Mom shook her head.
“No.”
Peter insisted.
“Those were his instructions.”
My mother looked genuinely stunned.
Rebecca leaned toward Peter.
“Where did you deliver it?”
“A hotel.”
“Room?”
“1408.”
“Who received it?”
“A woman.”
“Describe her.”
“About Eleanor’s age.”
Mom went pale.
“No.”
I turned.
“What?”
She whispered a name.
“Margaret.”
“Who is Margaret?”
“My sister.”
I stared.
“You have a sister?”
“I had a sister.”
Of course.
Another dead relative who might not be dead.
“She died before you were born.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
Rebecca and I looked at each other.
At this point, death certificates in my family meant almost nothing.
Mom sat down.
“Margaret was involved with Martin.”
“Romantically?”
“For years.”
“And Grandpa?”
“Disapproved.”
“Why?”
“He thought Martin was using her to enter the family.”
Maybe Grandpa had been right.
“Did Margaret know about Aurelian?”
“I don’t know.”
Peter looked confused.
“The woman said Martin had waited twenty-eight years.”
My mother closed her eyes.
“Margaret.”
“Alive?”
“I don’t know.”
“Stop saying that.”
“I saw her body, Claire.”
Finally.
An actual body.
“Then who was the woman?”
Mom stared at the floor.
“Margaret had a daughter.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“She was placed with relatives after Margaret died.”
“Name.”
Mom’s lips trembled.
“Vivienne.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Vivienne Cross was my cousin.
My mother’s niece.
Martin Vale’s possible daughter.
The woman who slept with my husband.
The woman my mother had employed without ever telling me the connection.
I turned toward Vivienne.
She stood in the doorway.
Tears filled her eyes.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Martin is your father?”
“I don’t know.”
Mom whispered:
“He probably is.”
Vivienne looked sick.
“That’s what he told me.”
“When?”
“After Eleanor fired me.”
Everything shifted.
Martin hadn’t simply recruited an angry former employee.
He had recruited a woman who believed Eleanor’s family abandoned her mother.
He had weaponized blood.
Vivienne whispered:
“He said Arthur caused my mother’s death.”
Mom stood.
“That’s a lie.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I was there after the accident.”
“You weren’t there before it.”
Years of resentment exploded between them.
I stepped between them.
“Enough.”
They stopped.
“We have six hours until the trust locks.”
Rebecca corrected me.
“Five hours and forty-one minutes.”
I looked at Vivienne.
“Where would Martin take the Covenant?”
She wiped her eyes.
“If he has it, he’ll combine it with the original codicil.”
“Why?”
“To destroy both.”
“Where?”
Vivienne looked at the numbers in my locket.
“Geneva.”
My pulse jumped.
“He can’t get there in five hours.”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“But the documents don’t have to.”
Digital notarization.
International courier agents.
Remote vault instructions.
Martin had prepared for this.
Then Grant called.
His voice was frantic.
“Claire, Jonathan is gone.”
I looked toward where my father had been speaking with investigators.
Empty.
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Grant said:
“He took Martin’s car.”
May you like
My father had chosen his side again.
And it wasn’t mine.
