Chapter 6 - SAMUEL'S LAST RECORDING
I stopped breathing.
My mother covered her mouth.
Abigail was at school.
Theodore was with a babysitter.
For the first time since Samuel's death, I was completely alone with his voice.
The video continued.
Samuel looked directly into the camera.
“I need you to listen carefully.”
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
“I don't know whether I'm being paranoid.”
He paused.
“But I don't think I am.”
I reached for the table.
Samuel continued.
“There is money moving through Northbridge.”
My heart tightened.
“I discovered that someone has been using legitimate client accounts to conceal transfers.”
He named companies.
Dates.
Amounts.
Everything Brenda had described.
But then he said something that changed the entire picture.
“The person I initially suspected isn't the person doing it.”
I looked at my mother.
She stared at the screen.
Samuel continued.
“I thought it was Martin Cole.”
Brenda's brother.
I recognized the name.
He was a senior executive at Northbridge.
But Samuel shook his head.
“I was wrong.”
He took a breath.
“Martin was trying to stop it.”
I froze.
Brenda had said her supervisor told her to stop investigating.
She had never said his name.
Samuel did.
Then he said,
“The person controlling the transfers has access to internal security, employee records, and private client information.”
He looked exhausted.
“That means someone high enough to see everything.”
I leaned closer.
“There's one person I can't explain.”
My mother whispered,
“Who?”
Samuel looked down.
Then said my mother's name.
“Ellen.”
My heart stopped.
The video continued.
“Ellen isn't stealing money.”
I exhaled.
“She is hiding someone.”
I looked at my mother.
She was crying now.
Samuel continued.
“I don't know who.”
I paused the video.
My mother looked at me.
“Tell me.”
She wiped her eyes.
“I couldn't.”
“Mom.”
“I promised.”
“To Samuel?”
“Yes.”
“Who were you hiding?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know his name.”
“What?”
“I only met him once.”
“Then who?”
She looked toward the screen.
“Samuel called him Daniel.”
My heart raced.
“Who is Daniel?”
“I don't know.”
“Why were you helping him?”
“I wasn't.”
She shook her head.
“I was helping Samuel.”
The video resumed.
Samuel was speaking again.
“If something happens to me, don't trust the first explanation.”
He looked directly into the camera.
“Especially if it comes from people who have something to lose.”
I felt sick.
Then the screen showed a document.
A list of transfers.
One account was highlighted.
The beneficiary was not Northbridge.
It was a private trust.
A trust belonging to—
my late husband's life insurance structure.
I stared.
“What?”
My mother whispered,
“No.”
Samuel's voice continued.
“Someone changed the beneficiary on my policy two days ago.”
I froze.
“Genevieve, I didn't do it.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“I swear I didn't.”
The screen went black.
Then another file appeared.
A photograph.
A man.
Late forties.
Brown hair.
Gray eyes.
Standing outside our house.
I didn't recognize him.
But my mother did.
She whispered his name.
“Daniel.”
I looked at her.
“Who is he?”
“I don't know.”
“You just said his name.”
“Because Samuel told me that was what he called himself.”
The video ended.
For a long time, neither of us moved.
Then my phone rang.
It was the bank manager.
“Mrs. Miller?”
“Yes?”
“We found something else in the box.”
“What?”
“A second envelope.”
He brought it in.
Inside was a handwritten note.
Not from Samuel.
From someone else.
He wasn't supposed to find the account.
I looked at my mother.
“What account?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Then the door opened.
A bank employee stepped inside.
“Mrs. Miller, there's someone outside asking for you.”
My heart jumped.
“Who?”
The employee looked nervous.
“He says his name is Daniel.”
My mother stood so quickly that her chair nearly fell backward.
I looked toward the door.
A man stood behind the glass.
Gray eyes.
Brown hair.
The same face from Samuel's recording.
Daniel smiled.
And then he lifted one hand.
He was holding the silver rosary from the safe-deposit box.
The rosary I had thought was simply an old family heirloom.
May you like
He mouthed one sentence through the glass.
“Your husband wanted you to have this.”
