11
The closure of Carroway Restaurant felt like the final page of an old, painful book being turned. But three days after our final dinner there, the affidavit Hunter had left behind began to produce unexpected, turbulent ripples through the legal system.
I was sitting in my office at the Reproductive Autonomy Center when Rachel entered without knocking. Her calm demeanor, which had remained unbroken for twenty years, bore a subtle, razor-sharp edge of concern. She set a heavy manila folder onto my desk.
"The federal prosecutor’s office reviewed the names Hunter listed in his deathbed affidavit," Rachel said, pulling out a chair. "Two of the corporate executives Hunter identified were processed without issue. But the third name—Julian Sterling—has triggered an emergency legal response."
"Julian Sterling?" I asked, frowning. "Uncle Charles's former chief financial strategist?"
"The same," Rachel replied grimly. "Sterling managed the offshore holding accounts for Charles's syndicate in the late nineties. Everyone assumed he fled to Zurich after Charles was convicted. But thirty-six hours ago, Sterling's legal counsel filed an emergency injunction in the State Chancery Court."
I leaned forward, my hands resting flat on the mahogany desk. "An injunction against what?"
"Against us," Rachel revealed. "Sterling claims that the affidavit Hunter surrendered from prison contains proprietary corporate records and trade secrets belonging to a dormant entity called Vance-Apex Global. He has requested a federal preservation order to freeze our Center's historical research archives and seize all original documents left by Hunter."
Before I could answer, my phone chimed. It was Evan.
"Mom," Evan’s voice sounded tight over the speaker. "A courier just dropped off a box at my apartment. It came from the state correctional facility where Dad died. It’s his personal property release."
"Did you open it, Evan?"
"Yes," he whispered. "Inside the box, tucked inside his old watch case, there’s a brass key stamped with the number 714. And a note written in his handwriting."
My stomach tightened into a cold knot. "What does the note say?"
"'The affidavit was only the key. The evidence is under the floorboards at the old lake property before Sterling burns it.'"
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I sat frozen in the quiet office. The ghost of my marriage was reaching out from beyond the grave. Hunter hadn't just left an affidavit to clear his conscience; he had left a map to the heart of Uncle Charles's darkest, unpunished secrets.
"Call Tessa and Maren," I told Rachel, standing up from my desk and grabbing my coat. "And tell Evan not to move. We're going to the lake house."
