Chapter 3 - THE MESSAGE FROM MY DEAD WIFE
I watched Lauren’s video eleven times.
By the fourth, I stopped hearing the words.
I watched her eyes.
The small movements.
The fear.
Lauren had always been terrible at hiding emotion from me.
When she was nervous, she rubbed her wedding ring with her thumb.
She was doing it in the video.
“Daniel, if you’re watching this, something has happened to me.”
Her voice trembled.
“I discovered irregularities inside Morrison Dynamics. At first I thought it was accounting fraud. It isn’t. Someone is using shell vendors connected to our logistics division.”
She looked over her shoulder.
“I told Evelyn.”
My mother.
“She told me I was imagining things.”
My stomach turned.
Lauren continued.
“Then someone entered the house while the twins were sleeping.”
Annie inhaled sharply.
“They didn’t take jewelry. They didn’t take money. They took the folder where I kept copies of the invoices.”
Lauren leaned closer to the camera.
“Daniel, I know you love your mother. I know you trust Charles. But please don’t assume anyone is safe because they’ve been around a long time.”
Then the video ended.
I sat motionless.
Annie whispered:
“There are more files.”
I opened them.
Invoices.
Photographs of documents.
License plates.
Bank transfers.
Lauren had built an investigation in secret.
Why hadn’t she told me?
Then I remembered.
Sixteen months earlier I had been closing the largest acquisition in company history.
I spent three weeks in Singapore.
Lauren called constantly.
One night she said:
“When you get home, we need to talk about your mother.”
I laughed.
“What did she do now?”
Lauren didn’t laugh.
“Daniel, I’m serious.”
I told her we would talk when I returned.
We never did.
Lauren died four days before my flight home.
My chest tightened until breathing hurt.
Annie touched my shoulder.
I looked at her.
“Why did Jordan have this?”
“He says his mother gave it to him.”
“What?”
“Before she died.”
Jordan was sitting on the couch.
I went to him.
“Mommy gave you this?”
He nodded.
“Where?”
“Her room.”
“Why didn’t you give it to me?”
His answer destroyed me.
“Grandma said Daddy would go away too.”
I closed my eyes.
My mother knew.
At minimum, Evelyn knew Lauren had hidden something.
Maybe more.
“Where is Graham Vale?” I asked corporate security.
“We’re searching.”
“Find him.”
Then I called my mother.
She answered immediately.
“Daniel.”
“Come to the house.”
“What happened?”
“Now.”
A pause.
“Is this about the housekeeper?”
I looked at Annie.
“How do you know about Annie?”
Silence.
“Mother?”
“Charles called me.”
Of course.
“Come here.”
“I’m busy.”
“Lauren left a video.”
Nothing.
Not even breathing.
Then:
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
She arrived in fourteen.
Evelyn Morrison entered the study wearing cream cashmere and pearls.
Seventy years old.
Elegant.
Controlled.
She looked at Annie with immediate contempt.
“Leave us.”
“No,” I said.
Mother stared at me.
“She is an employee.”
“She stays.”
Annie started to object.
I looked at her.
“Please.”
She remained.
I showed Mother the video.
For the first thirty seconds, she revealed nothing.
Then Lauren mentioned shell companies.
My mother’s hand tightened around her purse.
“You knew.”
“No.”
“Don’t.”
“Daniel, Lauren was emotionally unstable after the twins were born.”
“They were almost four when she died.”
“She struggled.”
“You told me she was paranoid.”
“She was.”
“Was she?”
Mother stood.
“I will not be interrogated in front of a housekeeper.”
Annie lowered her gaze.
Something about that enraged me.
“This housekeeper protected your grandsons while your security consultant locked them in closets.”
Evelyn’s face changed.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I never authorized that.”
“Did you hire Graham Vale?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To help with security.”
“For five-year-olds?”
“He was supposed to observe them.”
“Why?”
Mother looked away.
I understood.
“The memory card.”
She said nothing.
“You thought Lauren gave them something.”
“I thought she might have.”
Annie whispered:
“My God.”
Mother turned on her.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then explain it,” I said.
Mother faced me.
“There were serious matters involving the company.”
“Serious enough to terrorize children?”
“I did not know Vale was hurting them!”
“But you sent him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To find what Lauren hid!”
The confession echoed through the study.
Jordan screamed.
We had forgotten the twins were nearby.
He ran.
Justin followed.
Annie immediately chased them.
I stared at my mother.
She looked shaken.
“You scared them.”
“I never meant—”
“You sent a stranger into my house to search through their things.”
“To protect you.”
“From what?”
Mother’s face crumpled.
It was the first time I had seen genuine fear.
“Your brother.”
I froze.
“My brother is dead.”
Michael Morrison had died twelve years earlier.
Overdose.
At least that was what we had been told.
Mother sat.
“Michael discovered the same accounts Lauren found.”
My blood went cold.
“What?”
“He threatened to expose them.”
“Whose accounts?”
Mother closed her eyes.
“Your father’s.”
My father, Robert Morrison, had died six years earlier.
The respected founder of Morrison Dynamics.
The man whose portrait hung in our corporate lobby.
“He created the shell companies?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I never knew everything.”
“Stop lying.”
“I’m not.”
She began crying.
“Your father moved millions through false logistics contracts. Michael discovered it. He confronted him.”
“And then Michael died.”
Mother looked at me.
The silence answered.
I stepped backward.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“You let me believe my brother killed himself.”
“I was trying to protect the family.”
The phrase made me sick.
“Lauren discovered it.”
“Yes.”
“And she died too.”
Mother shook her head violently.
“No. I had nothing to do with Lauren’s accident.”
“Who did?”
“I don’t know.”
I didn’t believe her.
Then Annie screamed upstairs.
“MR. MORRISON!”
I ran.
The twins’ bedroom window was open.
Curtains blew in the cold evening air.
Justin stood crying beside the bed.
Jordan was gone.
On the carpet lay a gray business card.
No name.
Just a phone number.
My phone rang.
Unknown caller.
I answered.
A man spoke.
“You should have left Lauren’s files buried.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“Where is my son?”
Jordan cried somewhere behind him.
“Daddy!”
The man laughed.
“You want your boy back?”
My hand shook.
May you like
“Yes.”
“Bring me the memory card.”
