Chapter 1 - THE TRAP BEHIND THE GUARDIANSHIP PAPERS
“It’s about what happens to your children after you’re dead.”
Naomi’s words landed harder than Camille’s slap.
I looked through the half-open library doors.
Jack was still standing beside his sister.
Eight years old.
Trying to look like he had stopped being a child.
Rosie clutched the front of her pajamas with both hands.
Camille placed Isabella’s stuffed rabbit on a high shelf.
“Bed,” she said.
The children disappeared upstairs.
I waited until their footsteps faded.
Then I looked at Naomi.
“Explain.”
She opened another file on her phone.
Guardianship amendments.
Trust modifications.
School authorizations.
Emergency medical proxies.
Every page contained language I recognized because Arthur Velez had taught me never to sign anything I hadn’t read twice.
Yet these documents were designed to be signed quickly.
Routine family planning.
That was the label.
The actual terms were buried deeper.
If I became “incapacitated, legally unavailable, or deceased,” Camille would receive temporary custody.
Then permanent guardianship could transfer to Patrick Sloane’s family foundation.
My children’s inheritance would follow them.
Not all of it.
Enough.
Millions in legitimate holdings.
Voting rights in shipping companies.
Trust interests created by Isabella’s father.
I felt sick.
“She marries me.”
Naomi nodded.
“You sign.”
“And then?”
“You die.”
I looked at her.
She showed me another text.
Camille to Arthur.
Roman is already taking unnecessary risks. We only need one event to look natural.
My hand tightened around the phone.
Naomi watched me carefully.
“Do not go downstairs and kill them.”
“I’m considering several alternatives.”
“I know.”
“How did you get these?”
Her face changed.
“I copied Camille’s tablet.”
“That answers how.”
Naomi looked toward the stairs.
“Not why.”
I waited.
She took a breath.
“Your late wife hired me.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“What?”
“Isabella.”
I stared.
“Isabella died three years ago.”
“Yes.”
“When did she hire you?”
“Four months before she died.”
No.
Naomi had worked in my penthouse only eighteen months.
I remembered her employment file.
References.
Agency records.
Background checks.
All clean.
Too clean.
“What did she hire you to do?”
“Watch the children.”
“That makes no sense.”
Naomi’s voice softened.
“She knew something was wrong before anyone else did.”
My heartbeat slowed.
“What did she know?”
Naomi unlocked one final file.
A voice recording.
Isabella.
My dead wife.
Her voice filled the dark hallway.
“If Roman hears this, then I’m gone.”
I stopped breathing.
Isabella continued.
“And if I’m gone, someone inside his circle finally succeeded.”
Naomi looked at me.
May you like
The recording went on.
“My death will not be an accident.”
