Chapter 5 - The Ledger in the Rabbit
At noon, Poppy lost Teddy.
The estate had been partially evacuated, half the staff relocated to a hotel, and every room searched by investigators.
In the middle of that chaos, the gray rabbit disappeared.
For Poppy, this was worse than kidnapping, arson and organized crime combined.
“Teddy!”
Hannah searched the guest suite.
Victor checked the hallway.
Marcus, after protesting that he had more important work, eventually joined because Poppy began crying.
They found the rabbit inside Victor’s study.
Under the desk.
Poppy grabbed it.
Then Hannah noticed something.
The red stitching along one ear had torn.
A folded strip of paper protruded from the stuffing.
Hannah frowned.
“What is that?”
She pulled it gently.
Not paper.
Thin plastic.
A memory card.
Victor stared.
“How long has she had that rabbit?”
“Since before we came here.”
“Who gave it to her?”
Hannah thought.
“My husband.”
The room changed.
Hannah’s late husband, Daniel Bell, had died four years earlier in a warehouse accident.
He worked as a freight auditor.
Not for Victor directly.
For an independent logistics contractor used by Castellano Shipping.
Victor knew the name vaguely.
Marcus knew more.
“Daniel Bell.”
Hannah looked at him.
“Yes.”
Marcus’s face tightened.
“He filed a discrepancy report on Delacroix containers.”
Hannah froze.
“What?”
“Four years ago.”
“You knew him?”
“No. I know the report.”
Victor stepped closer.
“How did he die?”
“Forklift accident.”
Hannah’s expression went white.
“That’s what they told me.”
The memory card was inserted into an offline laptop.
Password protected.
Marcus asked Hannah for possibilities.
Daniel’s birthday.
Wedding date.
Poppy’s birthday.
None worked.
Then Poppy said, “Teddy.”
Hannah looked at her.
“What?”
“Daddy said Teddy keeps secrets.”
Marcus entered TEDDY.
The drive opened.
Hannah sat down.
Daniel had saved shipping records.
Photographs.
Emails.
One audio memo.
His voice filled the room.
“Hannah, if you ever hear this, I’m sorry.”
She covered her mouth.
Poppy stared at the speaker.
“Daddy?”
Hannah began crying.
Victor almost stopped the recording.
She shook her head.
“Keep going.”
Daniel explained that he had discovered Delacroix shipments were being altered after inspection.
He reported it through normal channels.
The report disappeared.
Then Gregory Vance contacted him personally.
Told him to stop asking questions.
Daniel refused.
Weeks later, he copied the records to the memory card.
Why hide it inside Poppy’s rabbit?
Because nobody searched a toddler’s toy.
Daniel’s final sentence broke Hannah.
“If anything happens to me, don’t let anybody convince you it was because I wasn’t careful.”
Silence.
Hannah stood abruptly.
She walked to the window.
Poppy climbed onto a chair, confused.
Victor wanted to approach Hannah.
He didn’t.
Grief needed room.
After several minutes, she turned.
“My husband did not die in an accident.”
Victor answered carefully.
“We don’t know that yet.”
“Yes, we do.”
“No.”
Her eyes flashed.
“You heard him.”
“I heard him say Gregory threatened him.”
“And then Daniel died.”
“Yes.”
“You’re defending Gregory?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I’m protecting you from certainty before evidence.”
Hannah stared.
That was not the answer she expected from him.
Neither was it the answer Victor once would have given.
Marcus reviewed the files.
One photograph showed Thomas Reed near a loading bay four days before Daniel died.
Another showed Gregory meeting a Delacroix executive.
Then came a maintenance record.
Forklift 12.
The vehicle involved in Daniel’s fatal accident.
Brake inspection completed the previous week.
Signed by Thomas Reed.
Hannah sank into a chair.
Victor’s face became hard.
Same pattern.
Vehicle maintenance.
Fake failure.
A death described as accident.
Marcus whispered, “Gregory built a method.”
Victor thought of Elena’s fire.
Daniel’s forklift.
His own manipulated shipping operations.
Maybe even the guest cottage.
Not random acts.
Systems.
Gregory used infrastructure because infrastructure looked impersonal.
Machines failed.
Wires burned.
Vehicles crashed.
Nobody blamed the man holding a pen.
Victor looked at Poppy.
The child hugged Teddy.
Inside that rabbit, Daniel had hidden enough evidence to connect years of crimes.
Gregory wanted the ledger copy because Daniel’s records probably contained transactions not on Elena’s USB.
Two victims.
Elena.
Daniel.
Both independently found the same network.
Both died.
Hannah whispered, “I want him destroyed.”
Victor looked at her.
He recognized the feeling.
“Destroyed how?”
“I don’t know.”
“That matters.”
She looked angry.
“He killed my husband.”
“Probably.”
“Your wife.”
“Maybe.”
“And your son.”
Victor flinched.
Hannah immediately regretted it.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
He forced himself to meet her eyes.
“Don’t apologize.”
She had spoken what he feared.
Victor sat.
“If Gregory caused all of that, there is nothing I want more than to hurt him.”
Hannah waited.
“But if I do that myself, what happens next?”
She frowned.
“He suffers.”
“For an hour?”
“A day?”
“A week?”
He looked at Poppy.
“Or we give everything to investigators and spend the next ten years making sure he cannot turn himself into a martyr.”
Hannah stared at him.
“You really have changed.”
“Don’t sound disappointed.”
“I’m confused.”
“So am I.”
Marcus laughed once.
“Historic day.”
The evidence from Daniel’s card gave Detective Keene enough to expand warrants.
Thomas Reed was found that evening at a motel near Annapolis.
He tried to flee through a bathroom window.
He failed.
Under questioning, he asked for a deal.
Then the structure began collapsing.
Thomas had sabotaged Daniel’s forklift under Gregory’s orders.
He claimed Gregory said only to scare Daniel.
The machine was supposed to fail at low speed.
Daniel died.
Gregory covered it.
Thomas also disabled Harrow Point cameras the night Hannah was kidnapped.
And set the east-wing fire.
But the guest cottage fire twelve years earlier?
Thomas had not worked for Gregory then.
Different contractor.
Dead now.
Still no direct proof.
Then Thomas said something unexpected.
“Gregory didn’t start this.”
Victor looked at Keene.
The detective leaned forward.
“Who did?”
Thomas hesitated.
“Delacroix.”
“Laurent?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Thomas swallowed.
“Madame Delacroix.”
Victor frowned.
Camille Delacroix.
Laurent’s mother.
Seventy-three.
Founder of Delacroix Maritime.
Elegant.
Old money.
French-American business dynasty.
She had been close to Victor’s father.
Very close.
Marcus whispered, “Why would she target Elena?”
Thomas shook his head.
“I only know Gregory answered to her.”
That changed everything.
Gregory was not the architect.
He was the bridge.
Camille Delacroix was.
Victor remembered her at Elena’s funeral.
Black veil.
Hand on his shoulder.
Saying:
Some tragedies cannot be understood. Only survived.
He suddenly felt sick.
The next morning, a courier arrived.
No return address.
Inside was a handwritten invitation.
DINNER. SEVEN O’CLOCK. DELACROIX HOUSE.
Victor read it twice.
Hannah looked over his shoulder.
“That’s not ominous at all.”
Marcus said, “You’re not going.”
Victor folded the card.
“Of course I am.”
Hannah crossed her arms.
“No.”
He looked at her.
She continued.
“You promised Poppy you’d get me back.”
“I did.”
“You didn’t promise her you’d immediately walk into another trap.”
Victor almost smiled.
“Are you giving orders now?”
“Yes.”
Poppy looked up from Teddy.
“Mama gives lots.”
Victor nodded.
“I’ve noticed.”
Hannah said, “If you go, police know.”
“They will.”
“Marcus goes.”
“Yes.”
“You wear a wire.”
Victor sighed.
“Yes.”
“And you don’t do anything stupid.”
“That condition is vague.”
“It’s intentionally broad.”
Against his will, Victor smiled.
Then Hannah added quietly:
“And you come back.”
The smile disappeared.
Victor looked at her.
Not because she was his maid.
Not because she was evidence.
May you like
Because she wanted him to return.
That realization frightened him in an entirely new way.
