Chapter 1 - THE FOUR-MILLION-DOLLAR SECRET
I stared at the receipt.
$4,500,000.
For several seconds, I couldn't understand what I was looking at.
My father sat on the edge of my bed, his hands trembling.
“I thought it was for you,” he whispered.
I looked at him.
“You gave Vincent four and a half million dollars?”
He nodded.
“I gave him everything I could.”
My chest tightened.
“Dad, you don't have four and a half million dollars.”
“I didn't.”
He looked down.
“I borrowed against everything.”
The words hit harder than I expected.
“The orchard?”
“Yes.”
“The farmhouse?”
“Yes.”
“The land?”
He nodded.
“All of it.”
I closed my eyes.
My father had spent forty years building that property.
Every apple tree had been planted by his hands.
Every fence post had been repaired by him.
And the hillside where my mother was buried was the one place he had sworn he would never sell.
“You said Vincent told you I was in prison.”
“He showed me documents.”
“What documents?”
“Letters. Legal notices. A copy of your passport.”
I froze.
“My passport?”
He nodded.
“He said the British authorities had seized your accounts.”
I grabbed my phone.
No messages from Vincent.
No missed calls.
Nothing.
That was when I realized something.
Vincent hadn't simply lied to my father.
He had deliberately kept me unreachable.
I walked back into the living room.
Lorraine was still sitting in the cream chair.
Marissa was holding her wineglass.
Neither looked surprised anymore.
I stared at them.
“Where is Vincent?”
Lorraine smiled nervously.
“He's working.”
“At midnight?”
“He has a lot going on.”
I stepped closer.
“Where?”
She didn't answer.
Marissa interrupted.
“Why are you interrogating us in your own house?”
“Because my father just told me your family stole his entire life.”
Marissa's face hardened.
“He gave the money willingly.”
“No.”
I held up the receipt.
“He gave it because he believed his daughter was in prison.”
Lorraine stood.
“You should be careful.”
“With what?”
“Accusing people without evidence.”
I smiled.
“I have evidence.”
I held up my phone.
“I recorded everything you just said.”
Lorraine's expression changed.
Then I noticed something.
Her wineglass.
The same brand of red wine Vincent always bought.
And beneath it was a small envelope.
My name was written on it.
I picked it up.
Inside was a single sentence.
ELISE MUST TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE TRANSFER.
My blood ran cold.
May you like
This wasn't just theft.
They were preparing to blame me.
