Chapter 11 - The Woman Who Had Been Dead for Twenty-Four Years
Brenda was placed in handcuffs.
Connor was not.
Not yet.
Naomi ordered the investors to remain available for interviews and instructed the officers to secure every electronic device in the room.
Restaurant staff brought Olivia a towel.
She wiped ranch dressing from her hair while Naomi spoke quietly with Malik. The absurdity of the act almost overwhelmed her. Her father might have been murdered. Her mother’s name was connected to a thirty-year-old payment network. Forty-seven million dollars had been stolen.
And Olivia was standing beside a luxury dining table, trying to remove lettuce from her blouse.
Harold approached.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“For what?”
“For believing them.”
“You believed what was convenient.”
The words hurt him.
Olivia did not apologize.
Connor stood near the glass wall with an investigator beside him. His black suit remained perfect, but he seemed smaller inside it.
When he noticed Olivia looking at him, he requested permission to speak with her.
Naomi refused.
Connor insisted.
“I can help her understand the file.”
Olivia turned toward Naomi.
“Let him speak.”
“Not privately.”
“I don’t need privacy.”
Naomi positioned herself beside them.
Connor looked at Olivia’s stained hair.
“I didn’t know Brenda would do that.”
“You laughed.”
“I panicked.”
“You enjoyed it.”
His eyes lowered.
“Maybe for a second.”
“Thank you for your honesty.”
“Olivia, listen to me. Brenda has spent years controlling information. She told me your father was trying to blackmail the company.”
“The company didn’t exist when this began.”
“No.”
“What does my mother have to do with it?”
Connor looked toward Brenda.
She sat handcuffed near the far wall, guarded by an officer.
“She worked for my father.”
“My mother was a university research assistant.”
“She was also an analyst.”
“For whom?”
“Victor.”
Olivia shook her head.
“That’s impossible.”
“Your parents met him at Briar University. Victor was running a private economic research group funded by development companies. Your mother built predictive models for land values.”
The story sounded plausible enough to be dangerous.
“What happened?”
“Victor used her models to identify neighborhoods that could be acquired cheaply before public infrastructure announcements.”
“Insider information.”
“Among other things.”
“And Brenda?”
“She handled the legal entities.”
Olivia looked toward Brenda.
“Why would my mother participate?”
“At first, she didn’t know what they were doing.”
“And later?”
“She tried to expose them.”
The room seemed to recede.
“My mother died from an aneurysm.”
“That is what Daniel told you.”
Olivia’s voice turned cold.
“What are you saying?”
Connor glanced at Naomi.
“I want an agreement.”
Naomi showed no reaction.
“Continue.”
“Protection, limited charges, and no prosecution related to Ward Meridian transfers.”
“You are not negotiating with me,” Naomi said.
“I know where the original file is.”
Malik interrupted.
“The archive contained copies.”
Connor nodded.
“Copies edited by Brenda.”
Brenda laughed from across the room.
Connor turned toward her.
“You should have left me a way out.”
“You were the way out,” she replied.
He faced Olivia again.
“Your mother’s death certificate was filed in another state. The hospital record was sealed after a settlement.”
“What settlement?”
“Daniel was paid.”
Olivia slapped him.
The sound cracked through the room.
The investigator beside Connor moved forward, but Naomi raised one hand.
Connor touched his cheek.
“I deserved that.”
“You’re lying.”
“Some of it may be wrong. I only saw parts of the file.”
“My father would never accept money for her death.”
“The payment wasn’t for her death.”
“Then what was it for?”
Connor’s answer came slowly.
“For raising you without asking questions.”
Olivia’s body went numb.
Naomi stepped closer.
“Where is the original file?”
Connor looked toward the city beyond the glass.
“My father placed it in a private trust archive before he died.”
“Location?”
“I don’t know.”
Brenda called across the room.
“Yes, you do.”
Connor ignored her.
She smiled.
“Tell Olivia who receives the trust when you are arrested.”
He turned.
For the first time, genuine terror appeared in his face.
Naomi noticed it immediately.
“Who receives it?” she asked.
Brenda looked at Olivia.
“Elaine Bennett.”
Nobody spoke.
May you like
Olivia’s mother had been legally dead for twenty-four years.
Yet according to Brenda, she was the beneficiary of Victor Ward’s most protected trust.
