Chapter 2 - The Room Thomas Left Behind
Margaret recovered first.
“Put that down.”
Rachel did not.
She lifted her phone and photographed the wire authorization.
Margaret crossed the room.
“You have no right to photograph private corporate material.”
Rachel took another picture.
“I’m an officer and director of the company.”
“You are on your way to becoming neither.”
Rachel photographed the draft board resolution.
Margaret grabbed the folder.
Rachel held on.
For one strained second, mother and daughter stood on opposite sides of a piece of paper worth millions.
Eli watched from the doorway.
Rachel released it suddenly.
Margaret stumbled backward.
Rachel’s eyes moved around the room.
“Who is Northlake Advisory?”
Margaret tucked the folder against her chest.
“A legitimate consultant.”
“I approve large corporate vendors.”
“Not all of them.”
“I approve four-million-dollar wires.”
“You were informed.”
“No.”
Margaret gave her a thin smile.
“Then perhaps you’ve forgotten.”
It was an old weapon.
Margaret had used it throughout Rachel’s childhood.
You forgot.
You misunderstood.
You’re too emotional.
You always exaggerate.
Rachel no longer felt twelve.
“Why is my forged signature on the authorization?”
“Be careful what you accuse people of.”
“Why is there a resolution to fire me?”
Margaret glanced toward Eli.
“This is not a conversation for a child.”
“You were comfortable using him as a janitor.”
“He knocked over an antique lamp on Monday.”
Eli looked up sharply.
“No, I didn’t.”
Margaret ignored him.
Rachel did not.
“Did you?”
Eli shook his head.
“It was already broken.”
Margaret’s jaw tightened.
Rachel took his hand.
“Go stand in the hallway where I can see you.”
“No.”
His grip tightened.
“I want to stay with you.”
The fear in his voice cut through her.
Rachel nodded.
“Then stay.”
She turned toward the gray cabinet.
Margaret blocked her.
“That contains privileged legal files.”
“You just said the room was private.”
“It is both.”
Rachel almost laughed.
Instead, she looked through the open section behind Margaret’s shoulder.
Folders were labeled by year.
One read ELI TRUST.
Another read NORTHLAKE.
A third read D. REED.
Daniel.
Rachel’s ex-husband.
Her pulse jumped.
“Why do you have a file on Daniel in Dad’s study?”
Margaret’s eyes flickered.
That was enough.
Rachel stepped sideways.
Margaret grabbed the cabinet door and slammed it shut.
The metal clang made Eli flinch.
“Mom,” he whispered.
Rachel moved beside him.
Margaret took out her phone.
“You assaulted me in my own home. You entered a locked room without permission. Now you are trying to access confidential files.”
“Call whoever you want.”
“I already did.”
Rachel looked at her.
Margaret’s smile returned.
It frightened Rachel more than shouting would have.
“You should have learned by now that temper has consequences.”
Rachel’s phone vibrated.
She expected Daniel.
Instead, she saw a company email.
Emergency Board Meeting — 8:00 A.M.
The subject line alone made her skin go cold.
Someone had sent it three minutes earlier.
Margaret had planned everything.
Rachel walked around the desk.
There were signature samples beneath a clear plastic sheet.
Her signature.
Dozens of versions.
Some copied from expense reports.
Some from old contracts.
One sheet contained practice strokes.
R.
RB.
Rachel Bellamy.
Rachel photographed them.
Margaret surged forward.
“Give me the phone.”
Rachel pulled it away.
Eli suddenly pointed.
“That’s what Mr. Sloan uses.”
Rachel stopped.
“Who?”
“The man with the silver glasses.”
Adrian Sloan.
Bellamy Development Group’s general counsel.
Thomas had hired Adrian fifteen years earlier.
After Thomas died, Adrian had become Margaret’s closest adviser.
Rachel looked at her mother.
“Adrian comes here?”
“No.”
Eli frowned.
“Yes, he does.”
Margaret snapped, “Enough.”
“He comes at night,” Eli continued. “Grandma makes me stay in my room.”
Margaret stepped toward him.
Rachel moved between them.
“Don’t.”
Margaret stopped.
Rachel’s eyes returned to the desk.
A small digital recorder sat beneath a stack of envelopes.
She picked it up.
Margaret inhaled sharply.
The recorder had strips of white tape along its side.
Dates were written in black ink.
Most were recent.
One was six years old.
THOMAS — OCT 14
Rachel stopped breathing.
Her father had died on October 15.
She stared at the recorder.
“What is this?”
Margaret’s composure finally cracked.
“Put it down.”
Rachel pressed the power button.
Nothing.
Dead battery.
Margaret reached for it.
Rachel closed her hand around the device.
“Why were you recording Dad the day before he died?”
“Because he was sick.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
“He was confused.”
Rachel’s throat tightened.
Thomas Bellamy had spent his final months in pain, but his mind had remained clear until medication became heavier during his last forty-eight hours.
Margaret had kept Rachel away the final evening, insisting Thomas needed rest.
Rachel had believed her.
A distant siren sounded outside.
Then another.
Eli moved closer.
“Mom?”
Rachel walked to the window.
Two Westchester County police cruisers were turning through the open gate.
Margaret stood behind her.
“You wanted consequences.”
Rachel looked back.
May you like
Margaret’s eyes dropped to the recorder in Rachel’s hand.
“Now you’re going to get them.”
