Chapter 5 - Rebecca’s DealRebecca looked nothing like the woman I remembered from Grant’s office.
Bandages across her forehead.
Broken wrist.
Bruises along her neck.
Detective Morgan sat nearby.
Rebecca asked:
“Is Victoria gone?”
“Yes.”
“Then I have maybe a day.”
“For what?”
“Before she finds out I survived.”
I stared.
“You helped her.”
Rebecca closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she owned me.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“People say that when they don’t want to describe their choices.”
Rebecca looked at me.
Fair.
So she described them.
Six years earlier, Victoria discovered Rebecca’s father had embezzled money from a Halston subsidiary.
Small compared with the family fortune.
Large enough for prison.
Victoria offered silence.
In return, Rebecca became useful.
At first:
Calendar information.
Emails.
Documents.
Then forged approvals.
Then medical records.
Eventually the DNA report.
“I knew Noah was Grant’s.”
My stomach tightened.
“You still created it.”
“Yes.”
“Knowing what it would do?”
Rebecca cried.
“Yes.”
I said nothing.
She continued.
“When Henry began investigating Victoria, she made me alter files.”
“Did you poison him?”
“No.”
“Did Bell?”
Rebecca looked at Morgan.
“Victoria administered the final dose.”
Silence.
“How do you know?”
“I saw her.”
Grant was not in the room.
Morgan had insisted Rebecca speak without him.
Good.
Rebecca described the night.
Henry refused to sign the mineral authorization.
Victoria poured his medication into water.
More than prescribed.
Henry noticed the bitterness.
They argued.
He tried to reach the phone.
Collapsed.
Victoria called Bell.
Not emergency services.
Bell arrived.
By then Henry was barely conscious.
Bell could have called an ambulance.
He did not.
Rebecca whispered:
“He kept saying there was still time.”
“Who?”
“Henry.”
My stomach turned.
“What did Victoria say?”
Rebecca began sobbing.
No. There isn’t.
Then Henry died.
Morgan’s expression became stone.
Rebecca had helped alter the records afterward.
“Why did you stay?”
Rebecca looked at me.
“Because after you help cover one death, leaving becomes complicated.”
Yes.
Blackmail becomes easiest after complicity.
Then the mining deal moved forward.
Henry’s compass disappeared.
Victoria searched for it.
Never knew Noah had it.
When she discovered the Marlowe reversion risk remained, she created the paternity plan.
Rebecca forged the report.
Grant never questioned it.
That part was easy.
Too easy.
I asked:
“Why did Victoria try to kill you?”
Rebecca looked away.
“Because I changed my mind.”
“When?”
“At the gala.”
She watched Noah being removed.
Saw him crying.
Saw Grant remain silent.
Something broke.
Rebecca stole copies of Victoria’s offshore files.
Planned to meet federal investigators.
Victoria discovered it.
Her driver forced Rebecca’s car from the road.
“Driver?”
“Marcus Bell.”
Dr. Bell’s son.
Of course.
The conspiracy had begun to resemble a family business.
Morgan asked:
“Where is Victoria?”
Rebecca gave an address.
An abandoned vineyard property north of Sonoma.
Owned through a shell company.
Police moved within an hour.
They found the house.
Empty.
But warm.
Victoria had left recently.
On a table:
Passport.
Cash.
Clothes.
And a photograph of me.
On the back:
THE LAND ENDS WITH HER.
Detective Morgan stared.
“What does that mean?”
I understood first.
The Marlowe Trust passed through direct descendants.
Me.
Then Noah.
If I died?
Noah still remained.
Unless his legitimacy was challenged.
The false paternity test had not only been about divorce.
It was groundwork.
Remove me.
Discredit Noah.
Then the reversion claim becomes uncertain.
Grant called.
I answered.
“Where are you?”
“Hospital.”
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
He exhaled.
Then:
“Victoria called me.”
I froze.
“When?”
“Two minutes ago.”
“What did she want?”
Grant’s voice changed.
“She wants to trade.”
“For what?”
“Rebecca.”
I looked toward the hospital bed.
Rebecca heard.
Her face went white.
“What does she offer?”
Grant answered:
“My mother says she’ll surrender…”
Pause.
“…if Ava brings Noah to the north vineyard.”
I almost laughed.
Morgan did not.
Grant continued.
“She says Henry left something there that only Noah can open.”
I looked at Rebecca.
“What?”
She whispered:
“Oh God.”
“What?”
Rebecca stared.
“The root cellar.”
“What root cellar?”
“Henry built a second trust vault beneath the old vineyard.”
“What’s inside?”
Rebecca swallowed.
“The original ownership ledger.”
Morgan asked:
“Why does Victoria need Noah?”
Rebecca’s eyes filled.
“Because Henry used a biometric lock.”
I frowned.
“Whose biometric?”
“His bloodline.”
Grant?
No.
Henry had anticipated Victoria.
So he excluded his own family branch.
The vault required Marlowe lineage.
Me or Noah.
Victoria wanted the ledger.
If destroyed, my land claim became far harder to prove.
Morgan said:
“You’re not going.”
I looked at her.
“No.”
Then smiled.
“But Victoria doesn’t need to know that.”
Three hours later, a black SUV drove toward the north vineyard.
From a distance, anyone watching would see me in the rear seat.
Noah beside me.
Except Noah was forty miles away under federal protection.
And the woman wearing my blue coat in the SUV was Detective Claire Morgan.
For the first time since the gala—
May you like
we were setting the stage.
Not Victoria.
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