Chapter 5 - MAYA'S SECOND PHONE
By the time we reached Justin's house, the police had already surrounded it.
The back door hung open.
Glass covered the kitchen floor.
Every cabinet had been emptied.
Couch cushions had been cut apart.
Drawers overturned.
Mattresses dragged from bedrooms.
Whoever had searched the house wasn't trying to hide what they were doing.
They were desperate.
Justin stood in the doorway of his bedroom staring at the destruction.
“This is my life.”
I didn't know whether he meant the broken furniture or his marriage.
Probably both.
Police found no intruder.
No red folder.
Nothing obviously stolen.
Morrison arrived twenty minutes later with another federal agent.
Natalie walked slowly through the living room.
“They didn't find it.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Because if they had, they wouldn't have spent time destroying the upstairs closets.”
Justin suddenly laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
He rubbed both hands across his face.
“Where would Maya hide something from me?”
Natalie said, “Don't ask where she'd hide it from you. Ask where she'd hide it from everyone else.”
Justin stared at the wreckage.
Then he walked toward the garage.
We followed.
His vintage Mustang sat beneath a cover.
Maya hated that car.
She complained about the smell, the noise, the time Justin spent restoring it.
“She never touches this thing,” he said.
He opened the trunk.
Nothing.
Then he crouched near the spare tire compartment.
His hand disappeared beneath the lining.
He pulled out a small pink phone.
Not the folder.
A phone.
Justin stared at it.
“I've never seen this.”
It had no lock.
The messages were worse than anything we expected.
Maya had been communicating with Adrienne Shaw for almost three years.
At first, the messages looked professional.
Requests for public corporate documents.
Questions about Rollins family events.
Then payments appeared.
Five thousand dollars.
Ten thousand.
Twenty-five.
By the second year, Maya was sending photographs of Justin's laptop.
Board packets.
Trust paperwork.
Security authentication screens.
Then Kenneth entered the messages.
A photograph of him sitting across from Maya at a restaurant.
Adrienne's message beneath it:
KENNETH WILL HANDLE SABRINA. YOU HANDLE JUSTIN.
My brother sat on the garage floor.
I wanted to take the phone away.
He refused.
“No.”
“Justin.”
“I need to see it.”
“You don't need every detail.”
“Yes, I do.”
He kept scrolling.
Eventually the messages became personal.
Flirtation.
Secret hotel rooms.
Arguments.
Jealousy.
Maya asking Kenneth whether he would really leave me.
Kenneth telling her he would after the acquisition.
My brother's hand shook.
Then he reached a message dated six weeks earlier.
Maya to Adrienne:
I'M DONE.
Adrienne:
YOU'RE DONE WHEN I SAY YOU'RE DONE.
Maya:
I WON'T HELP YOU DESTROY SABRINA.
Adrienne:
YOU ALREADY DID.
The next messages became frantic.
Maya threatened to confess.
Adrienne threatened Justin.
Kenneth begged Maya to stay quiet.
Then came the red folder.
Maya:
I HAVE IT.
Adrienne:
DELIVER IT TONIGHT.
Maya:
NO.
Adrienne:
DON'T BE STUPID.
Maya:
IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO JUSTIN, COPIES GO TO THE FBI.
Natalie leaned closer.
“Copies.”
Morrison said, “That's why they're panicking.”
Maya had finally developed a conscience.
Far too late.
But not uselessly late.
I continued scrolling.
The last message had been sent less than four hours earlier.
Maya to an unknown number:
HE DOESN'T KNOW YET. I'M GOING TO TELL HIM TONIGHT.
Justin looked away.
Tonight.
Instead of confessing to her husband, she had gone to a hotel with mine.
Perhaps she wanted to tell Kenneth it was over.
Perhaps she was lying to everyone.
We couldn't know.
Then I found a photograph attached to a draft message that had never been sent.
The red folder.
Open on a kitchen counter.
Inside the back cover, exactly as Kenneth described, was a black access card.
A handwritten note was visible beside it.
V.S. STORAGE — UNIT 417.
Morrison enlarged the photograph.
“Can we identify the facility?”
Natalie pointed toward a tiny logo on the card.
“MountainVault.”
I knew the company.
Private secure storage outside Denver.
Used for art, documents, precious metals.
High security.
Morrison was already making calls.
Justin continued searching the phone.
Suddenly he stopped.
“What is this?”
An audio file.
Dated three months earlier.
He pressed play.
Kenneth's voice filled the garage.
“If Sabrina gets pregnant naturally, we're in trouble.”
Maya answered, “You said that was impossible.”
“Hale said unlikely.”
“That isn't impossible.”
“No.”
“What are you going to do?”
There was a long pause.
Then Kenneth said, “Make sure she doesn't stay pregnant.”
My entire body went numb.
Justin turned off the recording.
No one spoke.
I stared at the phone.
I had never been pregnant.
At least, not that I knew.
But Kenneth had apparently planned for the possibility.
Morrison's expression hardened.
“That statement is potentially criminal depending on what actions followed.”
I couldn't feel my fingers.
Natalie touched my arm.
“Sabrina.”
“I heard it.”
“You don't have to process it right now.”
“Yes, I do.”
Because there was always another layer.
Another lie beneath the previous lie.
I had spent years wondering why motherhood seemed to move farther away no matter how hard I reached for it.
Now I was realizing someone had been actively pulling it away.
Justin stood.
“We're going to the hospital.”
“Why?”
“To ask Maya what he meant.”
Morrison stepped in front of him.
“You're angry.”
“You think?”
“If you confront her like this, she may shut down.”
“My wife slept with my sister's husband and helped steal from my family.”
“Yes.”
“And you want me calm?”
“I want you useful.”
That worked.
Justin looked at me.
I nodded.
“He's right.”
“I hate when people say that to me.”
“So do I.”
At the hospital, Maya had been moved into a private recovery room.
Kenneth was in another wing.
Security had separated them after Justin's earlier reaction.
Maya looked smaller than she had a few hours before.
No makeup.
Hair tangled.
Face swollen from crying.
She saw Justin first.
“Justin.”
He stopped near the door.
“Don't.”
She began crying.
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“You were in a hotel with him tonight.”
“I know.”
“That's an interesting confession strategy.”
“Justin—”
I placed the pink phone on her blanket.
Her face went white.
“Where did you get that?”
“Your husband's favorite car.”
She closed her eyes.
“It has everything.”
“Yes.”
“Then you know.”
“I know pieces.”
I pulled a chair beside her bed.
“I need the rest.”
Maya looked toward Justin.
He stayed by the wall.
“Why did Kenneth say he needed to make sure I didn't stay pregnant?”
She stared at me.
“I don't know.”
I leaned closer.
“Maya.”
“I swear.”
“You recorded him.”
“I started recording everything after Adrienne threatened Justin.”
“So you were afraid of Adrienne but still sleeping with Kenneth?”
Her face twisted.
“I was trying to keep him talking.”
Justin laughed once.
“Convenient.”
“I know how it sounds.”
“It sounds exactly like what happened.”
She wiped her face.
“I was sleeping with Kenneth before I understood everything. When I learned what they were doing to Sabrina, I tried to get out.”
“You stole from us first,” I said.
“Yes.”
“You copied trust documents.”
“Yes.”
“You took money.”
“Yes.”
“You helped them frame me.”
Her eyes filled.
“I didn't know that's what the accounts were for.”
“But when you learned?”
“I started copying evidence.”
“The red folder.”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
Maya hesitated.
Justin stepped forward.
“Don't lie again.”
“I don't have it.”
“Where?”
“I gave it to someone.”
“Who?” I asked.
She looked at me.
“Your mother.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“My mother died four years ago.”
Maya shook her head.
“I didn't say your mother.”
She looked at Justin.
“I gave it to Mom.”
Justin's expression changed.
Our mother.
His mother too.
Elaine Rollins.
She lived in Santa Fe most of the year and avoided company politics like a contagious disease.
“How?” Justin asked.
“She was in Denver for her cardiology appointment two weeks ago. I met her for lunch.”
“You gave our mother stolen evidence without explaining anything?”
“I told her it was important and that she should hide it somewhere nobody in the family knew about.”
I stared at Maya.
“Why her?”
“Because Adrienne watches Richard. She watches you. She watches Justin.”
“And not Mom.”
“She thinks your mother is irrelevant.”
My brother almost smiled.
“That was stupid.”
Our mother had been a federal prosecutor before marrying our father.
She had retired young.
But irrelevant was not a word anyone who knew Elaine Rollins would use.
“Where is she now?” I asked.
“Santa Fe.”
I pulled out my phone.
Before I could call, Maya said, “Wait.”
I looked at her.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“The black access card.”
“What about it?”
“It's not for storage documents.”
“Then what?”
“Adrienne thinks Victor Shaw kept files there.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
Maya looked at the federal agent.
“He kept money.”
“How much?”
“I don't know.”
“What kind of money?”
“Cash. Offshore account codes. Payment ledgers.”
Morrison leaned closer.
“Bribery records?”
Maya nodded.
“And videos.”
My stomach tightened.
“What videos?”
“Insurance.”
“Against whom?”
“Everyone.”
The room became very quiet.
If Victor Shaw had spent decades bribing executives, officials, doctors, board members—
He would have protected himself.
Maya continued.
“Adrienne has been looking for that storage unit since her father died.”
“And my grandfather found the access card first,” I said.
“Yes.”
“So the red folder is the key to evidence that could destroy her.”
Maya nodded.
I looked at Justin.
For the first time all night, we had something Adrienne desperately needed.
That meant leverage.
Then Maya whispered, “There is one person you still don't understand.”
I turned back.
“Who?”
“Thomas Bell.”
“My father's vice chairman.”
She shook her head.
“Thomas isn't working for Adrienne.”
“Then why was his name in my grandfather's investigation?”
“Because he was working for Victor Shaw.”
“That sounds like the same thing.”
“It isn't.”
I waited.
Maya's voice lowered.
“Thomas hates Adrienne.”
“Why?”
“Because Victor promised him Rollins Global.”
I felt cold.
“And now?”
“Now Thomas thinks Sabrina stole it from him.”
Justin looked at me.
I looked at Morrison.
Two enemies.
Adrienne Shaw wanted our company.
Thomas Bell believed it already belonged to him.
And Friday's board meeting was less than forty-eight hours away.
My phone rang.
My mother.
I answered immediately.
“Mom?”
“Sabrina.”
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
“Are you at home?”
“No.”
“Where are you?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you're calling as my daughter or as CFO of Rollins Global.”
Despite everything, I nearly laughed.
“Both.”
“Then listen carefully.”
A car door slammed somewhere near her.
My smile disappeared.
“Mom?”
“I opened the red folder.”
“Where are you?”
“And I found Victor Shaw's storage card.”
“Mom.”
“I also found a letter from your grandfather.”
I gripped the phone.
“What letter?”
“One addressed to you.”
My heart stopped.
“What does it say?”
She took a slow breath.
“It says that if you're reading it, someone inside Rollins Global has betrayed the family.”
A pause.
“And then he names the person.”
“Who?”
May you like
My mother's next words changed everything.
“Your father.”
