Chapter 9: The Final Trap
Richard Whitmore walked into the building like he owned it.
Maybe because he believed he owned everything.
People.
Money.
Secrets.
Lives.
Margaret entered behind him.
Her face was filled with regret.
“Claire.””
I stepped back.
“You brought him here.””
“No.””
Richard smiled.
“She didn’t bring me.””
His voice was smooth.
Confident.
“I came because I knew you would eventually find me.””
I stared at him.
“You ruined my family.””
Richard tilted his head.
“Your family?””
He laughed.
“That’s interesting.””
Emily stepped beside me.
“Stay away from her.””
Richard looked at her.
“Your father had the same protective instinct.””
The mention of my father made my hands tighten.
“What did you do to him?””
Richard smiled slightly.
“Your father was a difficult man.””
“That’s not an answer.””
“No.””
He stepped closer.
“It’s a warning.””
I hated that I was afraid.
Not of him physically.
Of what he represented.
Years of lies.
Years of manipulation.
“You used Daniel.””
Richard looked almost offended.
“I guided him.””
“You destroyed him.””
“He was weak.””
The cruelty of that sentence was almost unbelievable.
“You’re talking about your own son.””
Richard shrugged.
“Blood does not make someone valuable.””
Margaret looked disgusted.
“That’s why I turned you in.””
Richard’s smile disappeared.
“You always were sentimental.””
The room became silent.
Then Richard placed a folder on the desk.
“You want the truth?””
I stared at it.
“What is that?””
“The evidence your father collected.””
My heart raced.
“Why give it to me?””
“Because I want something.””
Of course.
Everything with these people came with a price.
“What?””
Richard smiled.
“The notebook.””
I said nothing.
He knew.
Somehow, he knew.
“You don’t get it, Claire. Your father didn’t just collect evidence.””
He leaned closer.
“He found the account.””
“What account?””
“The one that can destroy everyone involved.””
Emily looked at me.
I understood.
The rest.
The thing my father left behind.
The reason they were afraid.
Richard extended his hand.
“Give me the notebook.””
“No.””
His smile faded.
“You’re just like him.””
“Like my father?””
“Yes.””
He looked almost disappointed.
“That’s why I had to remove him.””
The room froze.
My breath caught.
“You admitted that?””
Richard smiled.
“Careful, Claire.””
But it was too late.
Emily had her phone recording.
Richard noticed.
His expression changed.
“You think that saves you?””
The confidence returned.
“You still don’t understand.””
“What?””
Richard looked toward Margaret.
“She knows.””
I turned.
Margaret looked terrified.
“Knows what?””
Richard smiled.
“The notebook isn’t the only thing your father left behind.””
My phone buzzed.
A message.
From a number I didn’t recognize.
I opened it.
One sentence.
*Claire, ask Margaret why your father died the same night she met him.*
I looked at Margaret.
May you like
Her face lost all color.
And suddenly, I didn’t know who the victim was anymore.
