Chapter 15 - The Lowest Point
Sophie felt dizzy.
“Adrian was fourteen.”
Ruth nodded.
“Exactly.”
“So why is his name on Marcus’s list?”
“Because the list wasn’t only compromised people.”
“What else?”
“Targets.”
Sophie stared.
Ruth explained.
Marcus categorized people.
Paid.
Controlled.
Threatened.
Disposable.
Protected.
Adrian’s designation:
Protected until age thirty-five.
Sophie read it twice.
“Why?”
“His trust.”
Ruth handed her another document.
Charles Blackwood had created a private trust containing a controlling block of company shares.
Adrian would gain unrestricted control at thirty-five.
Before then, major restructuring required approval from trustees.
One trustee had been Marcus.
If Adrian died before thirty-five, the shares transferred into the Blackwood Foundation.
And Victor could control the foundation.
Sophie whispered:
“Marcus needed Adrian alive until the right moment.”
Ruth nodded.
Adrian was now thirty-five.
His birthday had been six weeks earlier.
The board restructuring vote had been scheduled immediately afterward.
Everything aligned.
Sophie called Adrian.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
She called Eleanor.
Nothing.
Then a news alert appeared.
ADRIAN BLACKWOOD INVOLVED IN LATE-NIGHT COLLISION.
Sophie stopped breathing.
She ran.
Adrian’s car had been struck on Lower Wacker Drive.
He survived.
Barely injured.
But police found something in his vehicle.
Confidential Blackwood documents.
Cash.
And a burner phone containing messages to Sophie.
Fabricated messages discussing payment for testimony.
Adrian was detained for questioning.
Marcus’s trap tightened.
By morning, the board suspended Adrian.
Victor refused the chairmanship.
The board appointed Marcus Hale as emergency legal administrator.
Sophie stared at the announcement.
“He planned everything.”
Ruth nodded.
“Since Charles died.”
Sophie went to the police.
She gave them the list.
The audit.
Grace’s diary.
Thomas’s recording.
But Marcus had spent decades preparing counterarguments.
Forgery.
Disgruntled employees.
Family feud.
Manipulated recordings.
The evidence was powerful.
But not yet one clean, undeniable confession.
Sophie returned to Blackwood Manor.
The mansion felt empty.
Eleanor sat alone.
“I ruined everything.”
Sophie looked at her.
“You made mistakes.”
“I destroyed evidence.”
“You were afraid.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
Sophie thought of Victor.
Of Bianca.
Of Grace.
Fear explained many things.
It excused fewer.
Then she saw the necklace.
Bianca’s necklace.
Still sealed inside an evidence pouch on the foyer table.
The same object that started everything.
Sophie stared.
Something bothered her.
Why had Bianca chosen that necklace?
Why not earrings?
Cash?
A bracelet?
She called Bianca.
“Why that necklace?”
Bianca hesitated.
“Marcus told me to use it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where did it come from?”
“My mother.”
Sophie’s pulse accelerated.
“Celeste?”
“Yes.”
“Did she ever say anything about it?”
Bianca thought.
“She told me never to replace the clasp.”
Sophie looked at the necklace.
“Why?”
“I thought she was sentimental.”
Sophie examined the clasp.
Tiny.
Heavy.
Unusual.
Adrian’s father had warned:
The proof is incomplete without the Harrington files.
The files had led them to Celeste.
Celeste had given Bianca the necklace.
Sophie brought it to an independent jeweler.
The clasp was not solid gold.
It was hollow.
Inside was a tiny rolled strip of microfilm.
And printed across it were photographs of original bank records.
Clear.
Dated.
Signed.
Marcus Hale’s own handwriting appeared beside the transfers.
But that wasn’t the most important thing.
One photographed page contained a note.
C. BLACKWOOD — DOSE INCREASED PER M.H.
Sophie stared.
The necklace had never been the weapon.
May you like
It had been the evidence.
And Bianca had unknowingly carried proof of Charles Blackwood’s murder around her neck for twenty years.
