Chapter 9 - THE HOUSE THAT WASN'T SAFE
The intruders hadn't stolen jewelry.
They hadn't touched electronics.
They had searched my office.
Every drawer.
Every cabinet.
Every file.
Someone knew exactly what they wanted.
Fortunately, Parker had moved the original documents before the break-in.
But one thing was missing.
My father's old photograph.
It showed our entire family at a summer reunion.
Betsy stood in the background.
So did Connor.
And beside them was a man I hadn't recognized.
Richard.
Parker enlarged the image.
"There."
He pointed toward the corner.
Alyssa.
She was younger.
Much younger.
And she wasn't alone.
Beside her stood Richard's son.
I stared.
"That's impossible."
Parker shook his head.
"Why?"
"Because Richard told me his son died."
We investigated.
His son wasn't dead.
He had disappeared.
And according to financial records, he had been working for Connor for three years.
The name on his employee file was different.
But the photograph was unmistakable.
He had been part of Connor's inner circle.
Suddenly, the entire conspiracy became more complicated.
Someone inside Connor's company had been feeding information to Betsy.
Maybe even to Alyssa.
That night, I received a voicemail.
A man's voice said:
"You've uncovered enough."
Then silence.
I deleted nothing.
Parker contacted law enforcement.
But before they could trace the call, another message arrived.
A photograph.
Brinley's nursery.
Taken from outside the house.
The message underneath read:
Walk away.
I stared at it.
Something inside me snapped.
I had spent years being patient.
Forgiving.
Understanding.
Not anymore.
I called Parker.
"Move Brinley somewhere secure."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to finish this."
"How?"
May you like
I looked at the photograph.
"Publicly."
