Chapter 10 - THE WOMAN I TRUSTED MOST
Mara stopped moving.
I stared at her.
Caleb was still breathing into the phone.
“What did you say?”
“Lauren, get away from Mara.”
Mara’s face had gone completely white.
Ortiz’s hand moved slowly toward his weapon.
Mara saw it.
“Don’t.”
Nobody moved.
I kept the phone against my ear.
“Caleb, what exactly does the ledger say?”
“Her name appears on three payments.”
Mara whispered, “What year?”
I looked at her.
She repeated, louder.
“What year?”
Caleb heard.
“Twenty-eight years ago.”
Mara closed her eyes.
I stared at her.
“You were involved with Thomas Rourke?”
“I was nineteen.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“It isn’t.”
Ortiz stepped between us.
“Mara, hands where I can see them.”
She raised her hands slowly.
“Gabriel, you know me.”
“I know what I thought I knew.”
For the first time in my life, Mara Chen looked afraid.
Not of prison.
Of me.
“Lauren, your father hired me because of what happened twenty-eight years ago.”
“My father?”
“Your adoptive father.”
The distinction hurt.
“What happened?”
Mara swallowed.
“My father worked for Rourke Maritime.”
I said nothing.
“He was one of Thomas Rourke’s accountants.”
“Were the payments to you?”
“No. They were routed through an account my father opened in my name.”
“Why?”
“To hide bribes.”
My heartbeat slowed.
That explanation was possible.
Which meant nothing anymore.
“Did you know?”
“Not then.”
“When did you find out?”
“After my father died.”
“When?”
“Fourteen years ago.”
“And you never told me?”
“I didn’t know you were Thomas Rourke’s daughter until your father hired me.”
“Which father?”
“David.”
The man who raised me.
“He knew?”
“Yes.”
“Everything?”
“Enough.”
I felt suddenly empty.
All these people had protected me with lies.
My father.
My mother.
Mara.
Caleb.
Everyone decided I was safest when I knew nothing.
Evan had simply turned that blindness into a weapon.
Caleb’s voice came through again.
“Lauren, I need somewhere safe.”
Ortiz took the phone.
“Caleb, this is Detective Ortiz.”
“No cops.”
“Listen—”
“No.”
Then we heard a sound behind Caleb.
A vehicle.
Fast.
He swore.
“Caleb?”
“I have to go.”
“Where are you?”
“Near San Simeon.”
Ortiz began typing.
“Give me a landmark.”
“No.”
“Caleb!”
His breathing accelerated.
Then he said, “Lauren, Dad left something for you in the ledger.”
My heart tightened.
“What?”
“A letter.”
“From David?”
“Yes.”
“What does it say?”
“I only read the first line.”
“Read it.”
Caleb hesitated.
Then:
“If Lauren is reading this, Richard finally made his move.”
Mara stared at me.
“Keep going.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
The roar of an engine grew louder.
“Because someone found me.”
The line cut out.
I screamed his name.
Nothing.
Ortiz immediately called units toward San Simeon.
I stared out at the road.
The sun was setting over the coast.
Less than twenty-four hours had passed since my husband pushed me into the Pacific.
Yesterday, I believed I was a wealthy woman with a bad marriage.
Today, I was the surviving daughter of a dead whistleblower, the adopted heir to a fortune built from a second dead man’s company, and the wife of someone willing to kill me for secrets older than our relationship.
My phone buzzed.
A video arrived.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Caleb stood on the shoulder of Highway 1.
He was alive.
A black SUV had stopped behind him.
The rear door opened.
Someone stepped out.
At first, the camera angle showed only shoes.
Black heels.
A woman.
Caleb froze.
Then the camera lifted.
I couldn’t see her face.
Only part of a dark coat.
She said something.
Caleb’s expression changed from fear to disbelief.
He whispered:
“You?”
The video ended.
A message followed.
THE LEDGER HAS CHANGED HANDS.
Then another.
EVAN WAS NEVER IN CHARGE.
I stared at the words.
Ortiz read them over my shoulder.
Mara whispered, “Lauren…”
A third message appeared.
This one contained a photograph.
Evan sat tied to a chair.
Blood ran down the side of his face.
Behind him stood Richard Vale.
Richard was tied up too.
My husband and the man I believed had helped him were now both prisoners.
That meant someone else had been pulling the strings.
The final photograph arrived ten seconds later.
A woman stood beside Caleb holding the black ledger.
This time, her face was visible.
I knew her.
I had seen her almost every Christmas of my childhood.
She had held me at my father’s funeral.
She had toasted Evan at our wedding.
She had been listed as dead for six years.
My father’s older sister.
Aunt Rebecca.
Under the photograph were seven words:
YOUR FATHER LIED ABOUT HER DEATH TOO.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A woman spoke.
Her voice was older than I remembered.
But unmistakable.
“Hello, Lauren.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Aunt Rebecca?”
She laughed softly.
“I’m sorry Evan pushed you.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Where is my brother?”
“Safe.”
“Where is Evan?”
“Exactly where he deserves to be.”
“And Richard?”
A pause.
“Richard is complicated.”
I closed my eyes.
“What do you want?”
“The same thing your biological father wanted twenty-eight years ago.”
“What?”
“To finish what he started.”
“What did he start?”
Her voice became quiet.
“Ask Mara.”
I looked across the car.
Mara was staring at me.
Rebecca continued.
“She knows why Thomas Rourke died.”
Mara shook her head.
“No.”
Rebecca heard her.
“Oh, Mara.”
The warmth vanished from her voice.
“You’ve been lying to Lauren long enough.”
I stood despite Ortiz trying to stop me.
“Mara?”
She looked at me with tears in her eyes.
“Lauren, I can explain.”
“Explain what?”
Her lips trembled.
Rebecca answered for her.
“The night Thomas Rourke died, Mara Chen was on his boat.”
My heart stopped.
Mara whispered, “I was nineteen.”
Rebecca continued.
“And she wasn’t alone.”
A photograph appeared on my phone.
Nighttime.
A marina.
Thomas Rourke boarding a boat.
Young Mara stood behind him.
And beside her stood a man I had never seen before.
I zoomed in.
He looked no older than thirty.
But I recognized his eyes.
Because I saw those eyes every morning in the mirror.
Rebecca whispered one final sentence into my ear:
May you like
“That man, Lauren, is your real father.”
Then the call went dead.
