PART 2
Grant mistook my silence for weakness.
“Claire has been unstable for months,” he said. “She checks my calls, questions my spending, embarrasses me.”
Claire stared at him.
“I found invoices.”
His jaw tightened.
“What invoices?” I asked.
“Consulting payments,” Claire said. “Companies that don’t exist. Grant told me to delete the files.”
Evelyn snapped, “A wife has no business digging through her husband’s work.”
Grant reached across the table and pressed his hand against Claire’s injured shoulder.
She gasped.
I caught his wrist.
Not hard.
I didn’t need to.
“Remove your hand.”
He looked amused.
“Or what?”
“Or you will make the next thirty minutes far worse for yourself.”
He pulled away and laughed.
“You retired prosecutors always think the world still listens to you.”
But I knew more than he realized.
I chaired the trust’s ethics committee. I had already reviewed suspicious vendor payments at Mercer Dynamics. Each amount looked small on its own, but together they added up to millions. What we lacked was the signature tying the scheme to Grant.
Claire had found it.
“Where are the files?” I asked.
Grant slammed his palm against the table.
“There are no files.”
Claire looked at the bread basket.
I lifted the linen napkin beneath it and found a black flash drive taped to the wicker.
Evelyn shot to her feet.
“Give that to me.”
I slipped it into my pocket.
Grant’s face changed. The charm disappeared, leaving only cold calculation.
“You have no idea what you’re touching,” he said.
“I know exactly what I’m touching.”
He locked the dining room door.
His brother rose behind him. Evelyn grabbed Claire’s phone from the counter and dropped it into her wineglass. The screen hissed and went black.
“There,” Evelyn said. “No more recordings.”
Claire began to shake.
Grant stepped closer to me.
“You will hand over that drive. Then you will tell everyone Claire fell down the stairs.”
“Everyone?”
“The hospital. Her friends. Anyone who asks.”
“And if I refuse?”
He smiled.
“You are seventy-one. Accidents happen.”
I glanced at the brass clock.
Twenty-two minutes had passed.
“You targeted the wrong woman,” I said.
Grant barked out a laugh.
“Claire?”
“No,” I said. “Me.”
I removed my watch and placed it on the table. A tiny green light blinked beneath the face.
Evelyn went pale.
“State law allows one-party consent,” I said. “Everything said since I entered this room has been transmitted to secure cloud storage.”
Grant lunged for the watch.
I swept it out of reach and stood.
He grabbed my arm.
Claire screamed, “Don’t touch her!”
Grant shoved me back against the sideboard. Plates crashed to the floor. Pain flashed through my hip, but I stayed upright.
Then the doorbell rang.
Once.
Twice.
Grant released me and straightened his shirt.
“Smile,” he ordered. “All of you.”
He walked to the front door with the confidence of a man expecting harmless neighbors.
But when he opened it, his smile collapsed.
Standing on the porch was the chair of Mercer Dynamics with six board members. Beside them stood Police Commissioner Daniel Ross, two detectives, and Dr. Patel carrying a medical bag.
Behind them, the company’s security team was already recording.
