Chapter 5 - They Took Camila
The security footage ended exactly three minutes before Camila disappeared.
Not malfunctioned.
Not corrupted.
Deleted.
Someone with administrator access had erased it.
Harrison had access.
So did Preston.
So did Vivian.
And so did one person I had forgotten.
My father’s former chief of security, Malcolm Dean.
He had retired after Dad’s death.
Or so I believed.
Preston grabbed my arm.
“We need to call him.”
“Who?”
“Malcolm.”
“Why?”
“Because Dad didn’t create the family system alone.”
“What system?”
Preston looked at Rosa.
She was shaking so violently Mrs. Bell had to hold her upright.
“Tell me later.”
“No.”
“Adrian—”
“A nine-year-old girl disappeared from my house because of whatever secret you’ve been protecting.”
My voice cracked across the foyer.
“You tell me now.”
Preston swallowed.
“Dad kept private intelligence files.”
“On competitors?”
“Everyone.”
“What does everyone mean?”
“Business partners. Executives. Politicians.”
I stared.
“Employees?”
“Yes.”
“Family?”
Preston looked down.
“Yes.”
That explained the notes.
Rosa—desperate, unlikely to complain.
It wasn’t Harrison’s system.
It was Dad’s.
My father had built a private surveillance network disguised as household administration.
He gathered weaknesses.
Debts.
Immigration concerns.
Affairs.
Addictions.
Medical problems.
Anything that could make someone controllable.
Harrison had inherited access.
Vivian had inherited knowledge.
And somebody had taken Camila because she had found the notebook.
Rosa grabbed Preston’s jacket.
“You bring her back.”
He looked stunned.
“She is nine years old!”
“I know.”
“You people have everything!”
Rosa screamed now.
“Houses! Cars! Money! Lawyers! And you still steal from people who have nothing!”
Nobody stopped her.
“You bring my baby back!”
Preston whispered, “I will.”
Rosa shoved him.
“You better.”
The police arrived.
Then my private security.
Then Elena.
We found Camila’s smartwatch signal forty minutes later.
An industrial property in Van Nuys.
Owned through Hale Logistics.
Vivian’s company.
I wanted to go myself.
Elena said absolutely not.
I went anyway.
Preston came.
We reached the warehouse behind a tactical team.
No Camila.
Only a chair.
A pink ribbon from her backpack.
And a laptop playing a prerecorded video.
Vivian appeared on-screen.
My aunt looked elegant.
Calm.
White silk blouse.
Pearls.
The same woman who made Christmas pies every year.
“Adrian.”
My fists tightened.
“If you are watching this, then Rosa’s daughter is safe.”
Preston whispered, “Liar.”
Vivian continued.
“I have no intention of harming a child. I only need you to understand that your mother’s letter belongs to me.”
I stepped toward the screen.
How did she know?
“You found it, didn’t you?”
Vivian smiled.
“Maria always did love dramatic insurance policies.”
Preston stared.
“She knew.”
Vivian’s recorded eyes shifted as though she could see him.
“Preston, sweetheart, if you’re standing beside your brother, you should consider carefully which family actually protected you.”
He went rigid.
I looked at him.
Vivian continued.
“Arthur Callahan knew you were not his son. He kept you because losing you publicly would humiliate him.”
Preston whispered, “That’s not true.”
“He planned to remove you from the company.”
I looked at Preston.
He shook his head.
Vivian said, “Your mother tried to stop him. I tried to stop him.”
My chest tightened.
“And Adrian? Adrian inherited everything because Arthur always intended it that way.”
The screen changed.
A scanned document appeared.
A draft trust amendment.
Preston’s inheritance removed.
My name receiving control.
My father’s signature.
Preston stared.
“That’s why.”
I understood.
Vivian hadn’t only feared my mother exposing Preston’s parentage.
She feared my father had already planned to disinherit him.
The recording resumed.
“Bring Maria’s original letter and the brass key Rosa kept hidden. Come to the old Callahan beach house at midnight.”
My heart stopped.
Brass key.
Camila had it.
“She knows about the key.”
Preston looked at me.
“What does it open?”
“I don’t know.”
Vivian smiled.
“And Adrian?”
I stared at the screen.
“Come alone if you want the girl returned before her mother wakes tomorrow.”
The video ended.
Preston hit the table.
“Damn her.”
I turned toward him.
“How involved are you?”
He looked at me.
“Not in this.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
His shoulders dropped.
“I moved money for her.”
“Why?”
“She told me it came from accounts Dad had hidden.”
“You never checked?”
“I didn’t want to.”
“Because?”
His voice broke.
“Because I knew what I was.”
I stared.
“What you were?”
“Not his son.”
He laughed bitterly.
“You have no idea what it’s like growing up knowing the man you call Dad looks at you and wonders whether he should hate you.”
“I never knew.”
“Exactly.”
Preston wiped his face.
“Vivian told me Robert was my real father. She told me Mom ruined her marriage and Dad only kept me to protect the Callahan name.”
“Why believe her?”
“Because Dad was cruel to me.”
I remembered.
Different expectations.
Different rules.
I had called it tough love.
Maybe it wasn’t.
Preston continued.
“She helped me financially.”
“With stolen money.”
“I know that now.”
“You knew enough.”
“Yes.”
The honesty shut me up.
“I’m sorry.”
I wanted to hate him.
I did hate what he had done.
But he looked less like a villain than a frightened kid who had let one terrible decision become a hundred.
“We get Camila first.”
He nodded.
“Then you answer for everything.”
“I will.”
At 11:48 p.m., I drove to the beach house.
Alone.
At least that was what Vivian believed.
The Callahan beach property sat above Malibu, abandoned since my mother died.
I entered through the kitchen.
“Vivian?”
A light came on.
Camila sat on the sofa.
Untied.
Unhurt.
Eating cereal.
She looked at me.
“You took forever.”
I almost collapsed.
“Camila.”
Vivian stepped from the hallway.
“Don’t be dramatic. I told you I wouldn’t hurt her.”
“You kidnapped a child.”
“She followed Malcolm willingly.”
My blood went cold.
“Malcolm?”
A man stepped from behind me.
Gray hair.
Broad shoulders.
My father’s former security chief.
He smiled.
“Hello, Adrian.”
I understood.
Vivian wasn’t the darkest secret.
Malcolm was.
May you like
And judging by the gun in his hand, Vivian had just made the same mistake I had.
She thought he worked for her.
