Chapter 11 - MONICA'S STORY
Monica was alive.
She was living under another name in a safe apartment outside Boston.
When investigators brought her back, she refused to enter my house.
So I met her at my attorney's office.
She cried when she saw me.
“I'm sorry.”
“For what?”
“I knew they were drugging you.”
My anger rose.
“How long?”
“Two months.”
Tessa sat beside me.
Monica explained that Arya had been slipping sedatives into my nighttime medication.
Small doses.
Enough to make me groggy.
Enough to produce moments of confusion.
Elaine wanted staff statements documenting cognitive decline.
Monica discovered it.
She confronted Dominic.
“I thought he was part of it.”
“Wasn't he?”
“Not exactly.”
Dominic had been stealing from the company.
But Monica said the money went into accounts Elaine couldn't access.
He planned to use it to disappear after collecting enough evidence to destroy her.
“Why didn't he tell me?”
Monica looked at my wheelchair.
“Because Elaine threatened to finish what the shooter started.”
A chill moved through the room.
“The shooter worked for Elaine?”
Monica nodded.
“Dominic met him because he was trying to stop the hit.”
The security photograph suddenly had another possible meaning.
Dominic hadn't hired the shooter.
He had confronted him.
“Then why was I shot?”
“Because Dominic failed.”
Silence.
I hated that answer.
Not because I couldn't believe it.
Because I could.
Monica continued.
“Arya was supposed to convince you to stay home that night. She failed too.”
I stared at her.
“Arya knew?”
“She knew there was going to be an attack.”
Every part of me went still.
My fiancée had known someone intended to kill me.
And she had never warned me.
“Why?”
Monica wiped tears from her face.
“Elaine promised her control of half your companies after you died.”
That made sense.
Almost.
Then Monica added one final detail.
“But Elaine didn't expect you to survive.”
“Who fired the bullet?”
Monica looked toward the investigators.
“They found him yesterday.”
“Name.”
“Caleb Shaw.”
I had never heard it.
Then she showed me his booking photograph.
Tessa made a strangled sound.
I turned.
She was staring at the face.
“What?”
May you like
Her lips parted.
“That man visited my father three days before he died.”
