Chapter 3 - The Woman They Paid to Disappear
Anna Bell stood beneath the chandelier while three hundred wealthy strangers watched her try not to shake.
Gavin looked as if someone had struck him.
“I don’t know her.”
Anna laughed once.
There was nothing humorous in the sound.
“You said that would be your first line.”
Gavin stepped toward her.
Marcus immediately blocked him.
“Stay where you are.”
“This is insane.”
Gavin looked around desperately.
“She’s lying.”
Anna reached beneath the torn strap of her dress.
For one terrible second, security officers tensed.
Then she pulled out a small flash drive hanging from a chain around her neck.
Harrison Crowe’s face changed.
It happened quickly.
Most people missed it.
I did not.
Anna held the drive toward me.
“I copied everything I could before they found me.”
“Everything from where?”
“The private archive upstairs.”
Harrison interrupted.
“There is no private archive.”
Anna turned toward him.
“Then you should have taught your accountant not to use the same password for six years.”
A few nervous laughs moved through the crowd.
Harrison was not amused.
Anna looked back at me.
“I worked for Crowe Foundation accounting.”
“For how long?”
“Four years.”
“What happened three years ago?”
Her eyes drifted toward Gavin.
The answer was visible before she spoke.
“He invited me to a private fundraiser.”
Gavin shook his head.
“No.”
“He got drunk.”
“No.”
“He cornered me in an upstairs office.”
“You’re lying.”
“And when I reported him, the foundation paid me to sign an agreement.”
Harrison spoke sharply.
“That agreement concerned an employment dispute.”
Anna stared at him.
“You paid me four hundred thousand dollars.”
The room went silent.
“And you promised to destroy me if I ever explained why.”
Gavin’s mother, Eleanor, appeared near the front of the crowd.
Until that moment, she had said nothing.
She was elegant, pale, and perfectly controlled.
“Anna.”
Her voice was unexpectedly gentle.
“You should leave.”
Anna’s face tightened.
“You told me the same thing three years ago.”
Eleanor’s eyes moved toward the flash drive.
Then toward me.
A warning.
Not for Anna.
For me.
I accepted the drive.
Marcus handed me a secure tablet disconnected from the estate network.
I inserted it.
Folders appeared.
Dozens of them.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Photographs.
Security footage.
One folder made my breath stop.
CAROLINE MERCER.
My mother.
I touched the screen.
The folder required a second password.
Anna leaned closer.
“I never opened that one.”
“Why?”
“Because I think they knew I was copying files.”
Harrison took another step.
“Do not open that.”
Three hundred heads turned toward him.
He realized his mistake too late.
I looked directly into his eyes.
“You just told everyone the archive doesn’t exist.”
His jaw tightened.
I entered the first password Anna gave me.
The screen flashed.
ACCESS DENIED.
Then a message appeared beneath it.
THREE ATTEMPTS REMAIN.
I tried my mother’s birthday.
Denied.
Her maiden name.
Denied.
One attempt remained.
Then I remembered the final thing my mother ever said to me before leaving the house seventeen years ago.
Never trust a locked door.
I typed four words.
May you like
The folder opened.
And the first file was a video labeled THE NIGHT CAROLINE DIED.
