Chapter 6 - THE TRAITORWe locked down the office before midnight.
No one left.
Not Natalie.
Not security.
Not my chief financial officer.
Not the cleaning crew.
Garrett objected to the phrasing.
“You cannot legally detain employees.”
“I’m not detaining anyone.”
“You just told security to secure the elevators.”
“Only corporate floors.”
“That is very close.”
“Then open them.”
He stared at me.
I did not need drama.
I needed facts.
“Fine,” I said. “Nobody is forced to stay. But anyone who leaves before devices are audited loses access credentials immediately.”
That was legal.
Unpleasant.
But legal.
The office emptied faster than expected.
By 12:30 a.m., only people with nothing to hide remained.
Or people smart enough to appear that way.
Theo Park’s team swept the conference room.
They found a listening device in seventeen minutes.
It was hidden inside a smoke detector.
Tiny.
Wireless.
Commercial grade.
Installed professionally.
“Range?” I asked.
Theo examined it.
“Transmits through encrypted cellular burst.”
“Can you identify receiver?”
“Not directly.”
“When was it installed?”
“Could be months.”
I felt violated in a way I had not experienced since the funeral.
My office had become the first place in years where I felt safe.
Now Jason had reached inside it.
“What else?” Melissa asked.
Theo pointed.
“Device draws power from alarm wiring. Whoever installed it needed physical access.”
We reviewed building logs.
Three likely windows.
A sprinkler inspection.
A corporate renovation.
A fire-system certification six months earlier.
Vendor: Bellweather Safety Solutions.
Melissa looked it up.
Fake.
The company existed for eleven months.
One employee.
One mailing address.
And its registered agent was connected to a law firm used by Cole Family Holdings.
Vanessa again.
“They’ve been inside my office for half a year,” I said.
“Maybe longer,” Melissa replied.
My phone rang at 1:03.
Unknown.
This time I knew.
Jason.
I answered.
“Enjoying the smoke detector?”
I looked at Theo.
He heard it too.
Garrett motioned for me to keep him talking.
“What do you want?”
“To help you.”
I almost laughed.
“You’ve spent four years helping yourself.”
“And look where it got you.”
“Rich?”
His breathing sharpened.
Good.
“So that’s what this is?” he said. “You think money makes you powerful?”
“No. Evidence does.”
“That phone Lily stole won’t save you.”
I froze.
He knew about it.
Melissa began writing quickly.
“Who is Caleb?” I asked.
Silence.
Then Jason chuckled.
“You tell me.”
“You paid him.”
“I pay lots of people.”
“After my parents died.”
“You’re grieving all over again. That’s dangerous.”
“I’m not grieving.”
I surprised myself by realizing it was true.
Not in that moment.
I was furious.
Cleanly furious.
“Jason, did you marry me because of Briarwood?”
The call went quiet.
Then he said something I would remember forever.
“Rachel, I married you because you were useful.”
Garrett’s face hardened.
I kept my voice steady.
“And Lily?”
Another pause.
“An insurance policy.”
My hand trembled.
Melissa stared at me.
Jason continued.
“Children make women predictable.”
Something inside me went very still.
“You took her because you knew I would spend everything trying to get her back.”
“And you did.”
“Yes.”
I looked around my office.
Glass walls.
City lights.
A company with assets he had once considered impossible for me.
“And I built more.”
Jason laughed.
“For now.”
“What does that mean?”
“You really think your investors stay when they find out you manipulated custody, concealed liabilities, and committed loan fraud on your first acquisition?”
I froze.
He knew about the hard-money loan.
That file was private.
“Good night, Rachel.”
The call ended.
Garrett spoke first.
“What loan fraud?”
“None.”
“Explain.”
“My first duplex loan had an income projection. Aggressive, but legal.”
“Did you misstate anything?”
“No.”
“Any side agreements?”
“No.”
“Then he’s bluffing.”
Theo looked up from a laptop.
“Maybe not.”
We turned.
“What?”
“Someone accessed archived accounting files three weeks ago.”
“Who?”
He rotated the screen.
USER: N.BLAKE.
Natalie Blake.
My assistant.
My closest employee.
The woman currently upstairs with my daughter.
I ran.
I do not remember the elevator.
I remember only arriving at my townhouse and finding the front door locked.
Security was not answering.
I entered with my code.
The house was silent.
Too silent.
“Lily?”
No answer.
“Natalie?”
Nothing.
My pulse exploded.
I ran upstairs.
Lily’s room was empty.
Blanket on the floor.
Window closed.
Bathroom empty.
I turned and nearly collided with Marcus.
My driver.
He had followed me.
“Security team’s down.”
“What?”
“Alive. Drugged, maybe.”
I grabbed my phone.
“Call 911.”
Then I saw something on Lily’s pillow.
A note.
I picked it up.
Rachel,
I’m sorry.
He said he would kill my brother.
—Natalie
My legs weakened.
Melissa arrived thirty seconds later.
“What happened?”
I handed her the note.
She read it.
“Kidnapping.”
The word filled the room.
“No.”
“Rachel—”
“No.”
I called Natalie.
Phone off.
I called again.
Nothing.
Then a text arrived.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
A photograph.
Lily sitting in the back seat of a car.
Natalie beside her.
Lily looked frightened but unharmed.
Below it:
STOP DIGGING INTO THE CRASH.
NO POLICE.
YOU HAVE TWO HOURS.
Melissa saw the screen.
“Call police anyway.”
“I am.”
The text came again.
WE SEE GARRETT.
WE SEE MELISSA.
WE SEE YOUR OFFICE.
I looked around my own home.
Cameras.
They had surveillance.
“Phones down,” Melissa said. “Now.”
We powered off devices.
Marcus searched the townhouse for transmitters.
He found a camera disguised inside a wall charger in the downstairs hallway.
Another inside a decorative clock.
One in the garage.
Jason had not just infiltrated my office.
He had infiltrated my home.
“Who installed these?” I asked.
Marcus looked sick.
“I had the security system upgraded two months ago.”
“Vendor?”
He knew before checking.
“Coleman Integrated.”
Melissa cursed.
Another shell.
I felt rage turning to panic.
Not for me.
For Lily.
I had promised her I would always come.
She had been in my house less than forty-eight hours before someone took her again.
“This is my fault.”
Melissa stepped in front of me.
“No.”
“I brought her here.”
“You brought her somewhere you reasonably believed was secure.”
“I promised—”
“Then keep the promise.”
That snapped me back.
Right.
Not guilt.
Action.
We moved to a secondary location.
Police created an emergency command.
Garrett contacted the prosecutor already reviewing the crash evidence.
Theo began tracing Natalie’s phone through historical network pings.
Then something unexpected happened.
At 2:16 a.m., my personal email received a message.
Sender: Natalie.
Subject: SORRY.
Body:
Rachel, if you’re reading this, I got enough time.
He contacted me six months ago.
He knew about my brother’s gambling debt.
He said he could make it disappear if I gave him information.
At first I only told him your schedule.
Then he wanted documents.
Then recordings.
I tried to stop.
Tonight he told me to take Lily.
I’m not taking her to him.
I’m taking her somewhere he can’t find.
Trust the key.
Attached was a photograph.
A storage locker key.
Number 317.
Melissa stared.
“She’s helping us.”
“Or trapping us.”
“Maybe both.”
Another email followed.
They don’t know I changed the route.
He thinks I’m driving to Lake Geneva.
I’m going south.
Find what your father hid.
Locker 317.
Union Station.
My heart pounded.
“Lily is with her.”
“That’s better than with Jason,” Melissa said.
“Not good enough.”
Police split resources.
One team attempted to locate Natalie.
Another accompanied Garrett and me to Union Station.
At 3:04 a.m., we opened locker 317.
Inside sat a battered brown briefcase.
My father’s initials were stamped near the handle.
E.B.
Edward Bennett.
My knees weakened.
“He left this?”
Garrett put on gloves.
Inside were property documents.
Briarwood partnership records.
A flash drive.
Two notebooks.
And an audio recorder.
Old-fashioned.
Digital memory.
Garrett pressed play.
My father’s voice filled the station office.
“If you’re hearing this, Martin failed me or I was right to be afraid.”
I covered my mouth.
Dad.
He continued.
“Jason has been asking questions no son-in-law should know enough to ask. He knows about partnership voting rights. He knows distribution schedules. He knows Rachel is sole beneficiary.”
Garrett and Melissa exchanged a look.
The recording continued.
“I followed him last Tuesday. He met Vanessa Cole at the Drake Hotel.”
My heartbeat stopped.
“They know each other.”
A pause.
Then my father said:
“And I saw Irving Cole.”
Vanessa’s father.
“I don’t know what they want yet, but I moved original partnership certificates out of the house. Without them, the transfer is incomplete.”
Garrett whispered, “Oh my God.”
“What?”
“If true, Jason never legally obtained the Briarwood shares.”
My father continued.
“If Rachel finds this, tell her I am sorry I didn’t trust her sooner.”
My eyes burned.
Then the recording changed.
Dad’s voice was lower.
“I also met the truck driver.”
Everyone froze.
“He approached me outside St. Matthew’s. Said his name was Caleb Ross. Said he had been hired to watch our family.”
Melissa leaned closer.
Dad continued.
“He said he wanted money to disappear. I refused.”
My stomach tightened.
Then came the sentence that changed everything.
“He said Jason ordered the surveillance.”
I shut my eyes.
There it was.
My father knew.
“And if anything happens to us,” Dad said, “Caleb told me where to find proof.”
The recording clicked.
Then Dad gave an address.
A rural property outside Joliet.
Melissa was already moving.
“We need a warrant.”
Garrett nodded.
My phone, powered back on for police coordination, buzzed.
Natalie.
This time, a live call.
I answered.
“Natalie?”
She was crying.
“I’m sorry.”
“Where is Lily?”
“With me.”
“Is she safe?”
“Yes.”
“Put her on.”
Rustling.
Then:
“Mom?”
I collapsed into a chair.
“I’m here.”
“I knew you would find me.”
“Where are you?”
Natalie grabbed the phone.
“Rachel, I can’t tell you over the phone. They’re tracking everything.”
“Then go to police.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because Jason has someone inside.”
My blood chilled.
“Inside where?”
“The prosecutor’s office.”
Garrett stared at me.
Natalie’s breathing broke.
“And Rachel?”
“Yes?”
“Jason didn’t plan your parents’ crash alone.”
“I know about Vanessa.”
“No.”
She whispered:
May you like
“I mean someone you still trust.”
The line went dead.
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