Chapter 8 - THE MAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN
The next morning, Rachel arranged for a forensic audio specialist to examine the recording.
The result was disturbing.
The second voice had been digitally altered.
Someone had deliberately tried to hide the speaker's identity.
But there was one detail they couldn't erase.
A distinctive breathing pattern.
The specialist compared it against several recordings.
One match came back.
Marcus.
I stared at the report.
“No.”
Rachel nodded.
“It's not conclusive.”
“But it's there.”
“Yes.”
I found Marcus in the courthouse holding cell.
He looked broken.
“Did you threaten Emily?”
“No.”
“Were you with my mother the night before I left?”
He hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Who else was there?”
Marcus looked at me.
“I can't tell you.”
“Then you stay in prison.”
He closed his eyes.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“By starving my daughter?”
“No.”
His voice cracked.
“I didn't know about the shed.”
“That's your excuse?”
“I swear.”
I stepped closer.
“Who was controlling you?”
Marcus started crying.
“He has everything.”
“Who?”
“My mother's lawyer.”
I froze.
“Rachel?”
“No.”
Marcus shook his head.
“Not Rachel.”
He whispered a name.
Richard Cole.
I recognized it.
My father's old attorney.
He had handled the trust.
He had handled the estate.
He had prepared the documents transferring control to my mother.
And he had disappeared shortly after my father died.
Rachel immediately searched the records.
Richard Cole had died eight years ago.
But his law firm was still active.
And its current managing partner was his son.
Ethan Cole.
We found Ethan that afternoon.
He was calm.
Too calm.
When Rachel asked about my father's trust, he smiled.
“Everything was handled legally.”
“Then why was Daniel never notified when he turned thirty-five?”
“Administrative oversight.”
I laughed.
“An oversight involving twenty-eight million dollars?”
He didn't react.
“Mr. Caldwell, your mother was the legal trustee.”
“Until I turned thirty-five.”
“Unless the trust terms were amended.”
“Show me the amendment.”
He paused.
Rachel noticed.
“So there is one.”
Ethan stood.
“I can't discuss confidential documents.”
“You will,” Rachel said.
We left.
Two hours later, the police raided his office.
They found files.
Dozens of them.
Including one with my name.
Inside was a copy of my father's trust.
The amendment had been forged.
But whoever forged it had made one mistake.
The ink was dated after my father's death.
Rachel looked at me.
“This proves someone manipulated the trust after your father died.”
I nodded.
“Who?”
She looked at the signature.
“Your mother.”
I stared.
Again.
My mother.
But then we found something unexpected.
The amendment had been notarized.
By a notary who had died six months before the document date.
Rachel smiled grimly.
“Someone was sloppy.”
For the first time in days, I felt hope.
We had evidence.
Real evidence.
Enough to dismantle everything.
But before we could act, my phone rang.
It was Emily.
Her voice was screaming.
“Daniel!”
“What happened?”
“Lily is gone!”
Everything stopped.
“What?”
“She was sleeping beside me.”
“I woke up and she was gone!”
I ran.
Police cars followed.
When I reached the hotel, Emily was hysterical.
Security footage showed a man entering through the service entrance.
He wore a maintenance uniform.
His face was covered.
He carried Lily out in his arms.
I watched the footage.
Then froze.
The way the man walked.
The slight limp.
The left shoulder.
I knew that walk.
I had seen it my entire childhood.
I looked at my mother.
She had just arrived with police.
Her face turned white when she saw the footage.
I whispered:
“Where is Marcus?”
She began crying.
“I don't know.”
I stared at her.
“You do.”
“No.”
“You know where my daughter is.”
She shook her head.
Then her phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Her hands began trembling.
I grabbed the phone.
The caller ID showed one word.
HOME.
I answered.
A man's voice whispered:
“Bring the trust documents to the mansion.”
I tightened my grip.
“And if I don't?”
The voice replied:
“Then your daughter disappears forever.”
The call ended.
I looked at Rachel.
Then at my mother.
And I knew exactly where I was going.
May you like
Back to the mansion.
Alone.
