Chapter 4: My Father's Number
I stared at the number until the ink blurred.
It was impossible.
My father had been dead for twelve years.
I'd been the one who identified him.
I'd been the one who signed the paperwork.
I'd been the one who stood beside my mother at the funeral.
There were no mysteries.
No secret numbers.
No hidden cards.
Just grief.
Yet the number was unmistakable.
I had memorized it when I was seventeen.
For years, I could dial it without looking.
Claire was still on the line.
“Danielle?””
“I'm here.””
“You went quiet.””
“I need you to run one more search.””
“Tell me.””
I gave her the number.
“Find out who owns it.””
She hesitated.
“That's going to require a deeper search.””
“Do it.””
While I waited, Marcus called.
“Danielle, we found Julian.””
“Where?””
“He left the hotel.””
“Where is he going?””
“We don't know.””
“Find him.””
Then another call came in.
Our CFO, Natalie Shaw.
I answered.
“Where are you?””
“Home.””
“Did you know Julian used his access card to enter my office?””
Silence.
“Natalie?””
“I knew he had access.””
“That's not what I asked.””
Another silence.
“Did you know?””
“Yes.””
My stomach sank.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because I thought you knew.””
“Knew what?””
“That Julian was reviewing the Bellmont acquisition documents.””
“He was reviewing them with my permission.””
“No.””
Her voice was low.
“He wasn't.””
I stood.
“Explain.””
“He told me you asked him to restructure the acquisition.””
“I never did.””
“I know that now.””
“Now?””
She took a breath.
“Danielle, something has been wrong for months.””
“Why didn't you say anything?””
“Because every time I tried, Julian told me you'd already approved it.””
“What did he approve?””
“Vendor payments.””
“Which vendors?””
“Three consulting firms.””
“Names?””
“Nexus Advisory. Blue Ash Holdings. Meridian Strategic.””
I knew the first two.
The third meant nothing.
“How much?””
“Nearly six million.””
I closed my eyes.
“Six million dollars?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“I don't know.””
“Where did the money go?””
“We traced one payment.””
My voice dropped.
“Where?””
“Northern Ledger.””
“That's a bank.””
“Yes.””
“And?””
“The account holder is…”
She stopped.
“Who?””
“Northern Ledger is a shell.””
“Who owns it?””
“I only have the beneficial owner record.””
Her breathing shook.
“It's your mother.””
I felt the room tilt.
“No.””
“I wish I were wrong.””
“My mother doesn't even know how our company operates.””
“She doesn't need to.””
“Why would she receive six million dollars?””
“I don't know.””
I sat on the edge of the bed.
For twelve years, I had believed my family was complicated.
I was beginning to understand they were organized.
Claire came back on the line.
“I have the phone information.””
My voice was barely there.
“Tell me.””
“The number is inactive.””
“Of course.””
“But it was reactivated three months ago.””
My pulse jumped.
“By whom?””
“It's registered to a business.””
“What business?””
She sent me the details.
I opened the message.
*Carter Family Trust.*
I stared.
“That can't be.””
Claire spoke slowly.
“Danielle, there’s another problem.””
“What?””
“The trust wasn't created twelve years ago.””
“When?””
“Three months ago.””
I couldn't breathe.
Someone had resurrected my father's identity.
Or someone wanted me to think they had.
I called my mother.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“Danielle?””
“Did you create a trust?””
Silence.
“What trust?””
“Carter Family Trust.””
Her breathing changed.
“Where did you hear that name?””
“From the bank.””
“Danielle, listen to me.””
“No. You listen.””
My voice cracked.
“Did Dad leave money somewhere?””
“No.””
“Did you know about Julian's payments?””
“I knew he was helping.””
“With what?””
“I can't tell you over the phone.””
“Mom.””
“Come to the old house.””
“What?””
“You need to see something.””
I stared at the wall.
“The old house was sold.””
“No.””
Her answer was immediate.
“It wasn't.””
I stood.
“Mom, we sold it after Dad died.””
“We sold the house everyone knew about.””
My mouth went dry.
“The one you don't know about is still there.””
She gave me an address.
I recognized it.
An abandoned farmhouse nearly forty miles outside the city.
My father's childhood property.
I'd never been there.
He'd always told us it was gone.
I looked at Malik sleeping down the hall.
Then at the business card.
Then at the number.
“What am I supposed to find?””
My mother whispered,
“The reason your father didn't want Julian anywhere near this company.””
The call ended.
I drove to the farmhouse with Marcus following behind me.
Fog had settled over the road by the time we arrived.
The property looked abandoned.
Tall weeds.
Broken fence.
One dark farmhouse at the end of a dirt road.
Marcus reached for his flashlight.
“Stay behind me.””
We approached the front door.
It was unlocked.
Inside, dust covered every surface.
The air smelled like old wood and rain.
My father's desk sat in the corner.
Untouched.
I stepped toward it.
There was a photograph on top.
My father.
Julian.
And me.
Only I was seventeen.
The date on the photograph was six months before my father died.
Marcus picked it up.
“Danielle…”
“Don't.””
A floorboard creaked upstairs.
We both froze.
Marcus raised his flashlight.
“Someone's here.””
Then a voice came from the dark hallway.
“Actually…”
A woman stepped into the light.
I knew her immediately.
She had been the person my father trusted most.
The person I thought had disappeared from our lives forever.
May you like
She smiled sadly.
“I'm the reason he died.””