Chapter 4 - The Secret His Mother Kept
Graham tried to stop her.
Eleanor Reed was having none of it.
“My husband died with the world believing he was a thief!”
She tore her arm from Graham's grip.
“I'm not losing the only proof he wasn't!”
Smoke curled across the ceiling.
Marcus and two security officers rushed toward the library with extinguishers while another employee called the fire department.
Graham grabbed his mother again.
“Where are the files?”
“Behind Thomas's portrait.”
“What kind of files?”
“Ledgers. Correspondence. Banking records.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Eleanor stared at him.
“Because I didn't know who I could trust.”
Something passed across Graham's face.
Pain.
He released her.
“I was your son.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “And Preston was your uncle.”
A blast of heat came through the doorway.
“Enough,” I said.
Both Reeds looked at me.
“No papers are worth dying over.”
Eleanor's eyes sharpened.
“You don't understand.”
“I understand your husband is already dead. Your son isn't.”
That silenced her.
Firefighters arrived minutes later.
The blaze had started in the library curtains and spread quickly, but the estate's sprinkler system prevented the entire house from catching.
The portrait of Thomas Reed was damaged.
The safe behind it wasn't.
By ten o'clock, the fire marshal had confirmed what all of us already suspected.
Arson.
The safe was carried into another room.
Eleanor entered the combination herself.
Inside were three leather folders.
A flash drive.
And a handwritten letter.
She gave it to Graham.
His father's handwriting covered the envelope.
For Graham, when you're ready to believe me.
Graham stared at those words for so long I finally touched his arm.
“Open it.”
“I can't.”
“You can.”
His hands were steady as he tore the envelope.
His face wasn't.
The letter was six pages.
He read in silence.
Then handed it to me.
Thomas Reed described discovering false invoices inside Reed Global seventeen years earlier.
The money appeared to be routed through international subsidiaries under his authorization.
But he hadn't authorized them.
He suspected Preston and a young finance executive named Miles Voss.
The same Miles Voss who was now Reed Global's chief financial officer.
Thomas tried to investigate.
Before he could finish, the transfers were leaked to the board.
Evidence pointed directly at him.
His reputation collapsed.
At the end of the letter, Thomas had written:
Graham, I don't know whether I will live long enough to prove this. If I don't, do not let hatred turn you into me. I spent so long fighting for the company that I forgot the people beside me mattered more than the building with my name on it.
Graham lowered himself into a chair.
Nobody spoke.
Eleanor eventually sat across from him.
“I should have given you that years ago.”
“Yes.”
“I was afraid.”
“So was he.”
“I know.”
“So was I.”
“I know that too.”
The sadness between them felt older than either wanted to admit.
I quietly moved toward the door.
Graham caught my wrist.
“Stay.”
One word.
But it mattered.
So I stayed.
The records inside the safe proved Thomas had investigated the transactions, but they didn't prove who created them.
The flash drive was encrypted.
Marcus sent it to a cybersecurity firm.
At midnight, Eleanor poured three glasses of bourbon.
She handed one to me.
“I don't normally drink bourbon.”
“Tonight you do.”
I took it.
Eleanor studied me.
“Why did you marry him?”
Graham groaned.
“Mother.”
“I asked Avery.”
I considered lying.
Then decided I was tired of lies.
“To stop Preston from getting your father's shares.”
Eleanor blinked.
“That romantic?”
“Very.”
“And now?”
Graham's attention sharpened.
I looked at him.
“We're trying not to get killed before the annulment.”
Eleanor nodded.
“Better foundation than many Reed marriages.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
Even Graham smiled.
Later, while Eleanor slept in another wing and Marcus coordinated security, Graham and I were given his childhood bedroom.
One bed.
Of course.
I stood in the doorway.
“You're kidding.”
Graham removed his jacket.
“I'll sleep downstairs.”
“No.”
He stopped.
“Your mother's house was just set on fire. You're not sleeping alone downstairs.”
“Avery, I can protect myself.”
“So can I.”
He looked at the bed.
Then at me.
“This arrangement has complications.”
“It's a mattress, Graham.”
“We woke up married the last time we shared a hotel room.”
“Technically you were on the couch.”
“Still.”
I threw a pillow at him.
He caught it.
For the first time since Vegas, something inside me loosened.
We lay on opposite sides of the bed fully clothed.
Between us was enough empty mattress to land a helicopter.
“Did you ever want to get married?” I asked into the darkness.
“Before you?”
My heart skipped.
“I meant generally.”
A pause.
“No.”
“Why?”
“I watched my mother spend twenty-seven years competing with a corporation for my father's attention.”
“That isn't marriage's fault.”
“No.”
“It's your father's.”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
I turned toward him.
Moonlight outlined his face.
“What about you?” he asked.
“I thought I did.”
“Your ex?”
I stared.
“How do you know about him?”
“I read your employee file.”
“That is deeply unsettling.”
“You handled the Denver crisis while your engagement was ending. I wanted to understand why you looked like you hadn't slept in a week.”
“That's almost sweet.”
“Don't tell anyone.”
I smiled.
“Daniel wanted a wife who needed him.”
“Daniel?”
“My ex.”
“I already dislike him.”
“You've never met him.”
“I dislike him efficiently.”
I laughed softly.
Then the laughter disappeared.
“He told me I cared more about work than having a family.”
Graham was quiet.
“Did you?”
“No. I cared more about being myself than becoming whatever he had planned.”
“Good.”
One simple word.
Good.
Something fragile moved inside my chest.
I became painfully aware of how close his hand was to mine.
Then his phone lit up.
Marcus.
Graham answered.
“What is it?”
I watched the warmth vanish from his face.
“When?”
Silence.
“Send it.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?”
He opened his email.
The cybersecurity team had broken part of the encryption.
One recovered folder contained scans of wire-transfer authorizations.
One had Preston's signature.
Another had Miles Voss's.
But the final document made Graham go completely still.
I looked over his shoulder.
A confidentiality agreement.
Signed seventeen years ago.
The witness signature belonged to Eleanor Reed.
Graham looked toward the hallway where his mother was sleeping.
“She knew.”
My stomach dropped.
“Knew what?”
His voice was barely audible.
“She knew who framed my father.”
At that exact moment, a floorboard creaked outside our door.
Graham stood.
The handle slowly turned.
He pulled the door open.
No one was there.
Only a white envelope lay on the floor.
My name was written across it.
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph taken less than an hour earlier.
Graham and me lying together on the bed.
Someone had been watching us through the window.
May you like
On the back, four words were written in black ink.
The wife dies first.
