Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO DISAPPEARED
Daniel moved the girls to the estate's secure wing.
I hated the idea.
Not because it wasn't safe.
Because I had spent eight years making sure my children lived ordinary lives.
Now their lives had been dragged into a world of billionaires, hidden accounts, security teams, and people who knew where we lived.
Mia sat on the edge of a huge guest bed.
“Are we hiding?”
Daniel crouched in front of her.
“For tonight.”
“From bad people?”
“We don't know yet.”
She thought about it.
“Are you scared?”
Daniel smiled faintly.
“A little.”
Mia looked surprised.
“Grown-ups can be scared?”
“All the time.”
“Mom doesn't tell me.”
I glanced at her.
Daniel looked at me.
“I know.”
That small exchange hurt more than any argument could have.
Betty sat at the desk, drawing.
She was unusually quiet.
I approached her.
“What are you drawing?”
“The picture.”
“What picture?”
“The one on the watch.”
She showed me.
She had drawn three people.
A man.
A woman.
A little boy.
Then she had drawn two girls beside them.
“Why?”
Betty shrugged.
“I thought it looked like a family.”
Daniel stared at the drawing.
His eyes became wet.
He looked away before the girls noticed.
I understood then that whatever happened between Daniel and me, these children were going to need something neither of us had given them yet.
A chance to know their father without inheriting our anger.
A knock came at the door.
Daniel opened it himself.
Martin stood outside.
“We found the vehicle.”
“Who owns it?”
“A rental company.”
“Driver?”
“Fake identification.”
Daniel sighed.
“Of course.”
Martin handed him a folder.
“There is something else.”
Daniel opened it.
Inside was a photocopy of an old bank statement.
The account holder was Northstar Meridian.
The transaction date was eight years ago.
The amount was enormous.
The recipient was a private security company.
Daniel looked at me.
“That date.”
I nodded.
“The day before I left Chicago.”
Martin pointed to the payment description.
“Emergency relocation.”
My chest tightened.
“I didn't know.”
Daniel looked at Eleanor.
She was standing behind Martin.
“You paid to move her?”
Eleanor shook her head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
She didn't answer.
Daniel turned to Martin.
“Find out.”
Martin hesitated.
“We already did.”
He handed over another page.
The payment came from a personal account belonging to Daniel.
I stared.
Daniel did too.
“My account?”
“Yes.”
“That isn't possible.”
“It was.”
I remembered something.
The night I left.
I had gone to my apartment.
My belongings were packed.
A hotel room had been booked under my name.
A car was waiting downstairs.
I had assumed Eleanor arranged it.
Maybe she had.
But if the money came from Daniel's account—
I looked at him.
“You knew I was leaving.”
“No.”
“You paid for the car.”
“I didn't.”
“Someone used your account.”
Daniel looked furious.
“Who had access?”
“Greg,” Martin said.
Daniel went still.
Greg.
Again.
The same man who had received the instruction to “fix it.”
Daniel's phone rang.
He answered.
“Daniel.”
Greg's voice came through.
“I'm hearing the wedding has been postponed.”
Daniel looked at me.
“Yes.”
“Is everything all right?”
“No.”
Silence.
Then Greg said,
“Is Rachel with you?”
My blood ran cold.
Daniel's expression changed.
“How do you know Rachel is here?”
Another silence.
“I saw the guest list.”
“You weren't at the estate.”
“No.”
Daniel's voice became colder.
“Then how do you know?”
Greg hung up.
Daniel stared at the screen.
I felt sick.
“That's enough.”
He looked at me.
“What's enough?”
“I want to leave.”
“You can't.”
“I've done this before.”
“Not this time.”
“You don't get to decide.”
“No.”
He took a breath.
“You're right.”
Then he looked at the girls.
“But I won't let you walk out with them while someone is watching your apartment.”
I knew he was right.
That made it worse.
For years, I had survived by trusting no one.
Now I had to trust the man I had spent eight years believing abandoned me.
That afternoon, Martin brought an old storage box.
Daniel opened it in the library.
Inside were company records from his father's final year.
One object sat on top.
A woman's necklace.
Simple gold.
A small compass pendant.
Eleanor immediately stood.
“Put that away.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Why?”
“It belonged to her.”
“The woman in the photograph?”
Eleanor nodded.
“Your father's first wife.”
“What was her name?”
Eleanor didn't answer.
Martin did.
“Laura.”
Daniel touched the necklace.
“Why did my father keep it?”
Martin looked at him.
“Because Laura gave it to him the night she discovered Project Columbus.”
I frowned.
“Discovered what?”
Martin opened an old file.
“Your father's original investors weren't the people he claimed.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Who were they?”
Martin turned a page.
“The company wasn't built entirely with outside money.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone inside the Harden family was moving money into the company before your father officially founded it.”
Daniel stared.
“Who?”
Martin looked at Eleanor.
She closed her eyes.
“Me.”
Daniel froze.
“You?”
“I inherited money from my parents.”
“You told me your family was broke.”
“We were.”
“Then where did it come from?”
Eleanor sat down.
“My father had debts.”
“What kind?”
“Gambling. Business loans. Things I didn't understand.”
“And?”
“He borrowed from people who expected more than repayment.”
Daniel stared.
“Who?”
Eleanor looked at him.
“A private syndicate.”
The word hung in the room.
“Your father wanted out,” she continued. “He built the company partly to pay them back.”
“And Project Columbus?”
“Was supposed to end the relationship.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Then why did my father hide it?”
“Because he realized someone inside the company was keeping the money moving.”
“Who?”
Eleanor looked at me.
I felt the same cold fear from eight years earlier.
“You,” she said.
I almost laughed.
“What?”
“You were the last person to see the Northstar ledger.”
“No.”
“You were.”
“I was investigating it because someone asked me to.”
“Who?”
I searched my memory.
Eight years earlier.
Late night.
A message on my work computer.
A request to review an acquisition file.
The name had been buried in a chain of emails.
I suddenly remembered.
“Greg.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Again.”
Then Betty appeared in the doorway.
She held the old photograph.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
She turned it around.
“There are numbers on the back.”
I took it.
She was right.
Tiny pencil marks had been written beneath the photograph.
Four numbers.
Daniel stared.
“That's not a date.”
Martin stepped closer.
“What is it?”
Daniel looked at the watch.
Then the numbers.
His expression changed.
“They're coordinates.”
I frowned.
“Coordinates to where?”
Daniel entered them into his phone.
A map appeared.
His face went pale.
“Chicago.”
My stomach tightened.
“Where in Chicago?”
He zoomed in.
The location appeared.
An old office building.
I recognized it instantly.
My old workplace.
Harden Systems headquarters.
Daniel whispered,
“Someone wants us to go back.”
Then his phone received a message.
Not a call.
A photograph.
It showed the front entrance of the building.
And standing in the reflection of the glass was Greg Harmon.
May you like
Under the photograph were six words.
HE'S BEEN WAITING FOR YOU, RACHEL.
