Chapter 3 - Emily’s Letter
Derek had never liked surprises.
In business, surprise meant poor preparation.
In marriage, he had once believed it meant dishonesty.
Yet his first wife had apparently trusted a ski instructor with a letter she never told Derek existed.
Mason refused to hand it over.
“It’s addressed to Caleb.”
“He’s six.”
“Emily told me to give it to him when someone started asking about Frostline.”
Derek stared.
“That happened today.”
“Yes.”
“Why you?”
Mason looked toward the clinic window.
“Because my father managed Frostline for Emily’s family.”
Derek remembered the name.
Thomas Reed.
A mountain surveyor who died eight years earlier.
Mason continued.
“I grew up on that land. Emily was twelve years older than me. She taught me to ski.”
“You never told me.”
“You never asked.”
“I own the resort next door.”
“You own Silver Crown.”
Mason’s voice hardened.
“You don’t own the mountain.”
The sentence bothered Derek more than it should have.
Perhaps because Serena had spoken about Frostline exactly that way.
Ours.
Property.
Control.
Derek looked at the envelope.
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know.”
“You never opened it?”
“No.”
“You kept it for three years?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Mason gave him a flat look.
“Because a dying woman asked me to.”
Derek said nothing.
Mason continued.
“Emily was worried before she died.”
“About what?”
“Grant Mercer.”
Derek’s face changed.
“What?”
“She thought he was pressuring the trust to approve development.”
“Grant never dealt with the trust.”
“He tried.”
Derek shook his head.
“That would have gone through me.”
“Maybe that was the point.”
Mason’s jaw tightened painfully.
“Emily thought somebody at Hale Mountain wanted Frostline badly enough to wait until she couldn’t stop them.”
Derek stared at him.
Emily had been sick for eighteen months.
During her final year, Derek had worked relentlessly.
He told himself he was protecting the company while caring for her.
In reality, he spent too many nights at corporate offices while Emily faced chemotherapy with nurses, friends, and eventually hospice staff.
Guilt was an old room Derek kept locked.
Mason had just opened it.
“When did she say this?”
“Four months before she died.”
“Why didn’t you contact me?”
“I did.”
Derek frowned.
Mason pulled out his phone.
An old email.
Subject: EMILY / FROSTLINE
Sent three years earlier.
Derek had never seen it.
The reply came from his executive assistant account.
Mr. Hale requests that you cease contacting the family regarding speculative property matters.
Derek read it twice.
“I didn’t write this.”
“I know that now.”
“Who had access?”
“My executive assistant.”
“And?”
Derek thought.
At that time his assistant had been Caroline Moss.
She resigned two months after Emily died.
Grant’s office had hired her.
The connection sat between them.
Mason said, “Today Serena tried to kill your son and blame me. Maybe it’s time to ask why everybody around Frostline keeps getting told to shut up.”
Derek flinched at the word kill.
“We don’t know she intended to kill him.”
Mason stared.
“You watched the same video I did.”
Derek’s instinct was to argue.
He stopped himself.
“I’m trying not to decide before the investigation.”
“Good.”
Mason looked toward Caleb.
“Maybe use that skill before punching people too.”
Derek nodded.
“I deserved that.”
“Yeah.”
Outside the clinic, the sheriff’s department seized the red tube.
A technician photographed the release assembly.
Within an hour, an initial finding changed the case.
The safety catch had not failed.
Someone had manually disengaged it.
Serena’s attorney immediately argued that she might have done so accidentally while checking the harness.
Olivia’s video became crucial.
The sheriff asked for the original file.
Olivia handed it over voluntarily.
“It uploaded to my cloud account automatically.”
Serena’s lawyer’s face tightened.
Derek noticed.
Then his own attorney arrived.
Benjamin Cole had handled Derek’s corporate disputes for years.
This time his first words were different.
“Do not speak publicly.”
“I assaulted Mason.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not denying it.”
“Good. Because fifteen people filmed you.”
Derek looked at Mason.
“Can I apologize publicly?”
“Later.”
“That sounds cowardly.”
“It sounds like legal advice.”
Derek’s phone buzzed.
Grant Mercer.
He answered.
“Derek, what the hell is happening?”
Derek studied the lodge across the road.
“My wife released Caleb’s tube.”
Silence.
Then Grant said, “You’re emotional.”
The exact wrong phrase.
Derek’s eyes narrowed.
“Why was Serena talking to you before it happened?”
Another silence.
“What?”
“Caleb heard your call.”
Grant laughed too quickly.
“I call Serena all the time. She’s on the foundation board.”
“What wouldn’t I sign?”
Grant stopped.
Derek’s pulse slowed.
“What document, Grant?”
“Derek, you’ve had a traumatic afternoon.”
“Answer me.”
Grant lowered his voice.
“The Summit Crest proposal.”
Derek went still.
Six months earlier, Summit Crest Capital had offered Hale Mountain Hospitality $180 million to develop luxury residences above Silver Crown.
The project required access across Frostline Ridge.
Derek had rejected it.
Twice.
“You told me that proposal was dead.”
“It can be revived.”
“Not without Frostline.”
“I know.”
Derek looked through the clinic window at Caleb.
Grant said, “We should talk privately.”
“We will.”
Derek ended the call.
Mason was still holding Emily’s envelope.
Caleb emerged with the child-services specialist.
He saw it immediately.
“That’s Mom’s writing.”
Derek crouched.
“Mason says she left it for you.”
Caleb looked at Mason.
“Can I open it?”
Mason handed it over.
Caleb tore the edge carefully.
Inside was a short letter and a small blue metal key.
Caleb read the first line aloud.
May you like
“My sweet boy, if someone is trying to take Frostline from you, it means I was right to be afraid.”
Derek felt the floor disappear beneath him.
