Chapter 5 - THE LIE THAT BROKE EVERYTHING
Thomas called Amelia at 7:12 the following morning.
She let it ring four times before answering.
“Have you been talking to Evelyn Cross?”
Amelia sat upright in bed.
“Good morning to you, too.”
“Answer the question.”
“Why? So you can tell me what I should believe about my own mother?”
His silence lasted long enough to confirm her suspicion.
“You had no right to go through her belongings,” he said.
“My mother left me a letter.”
“She was ill. She was confused about the finances.”
“Was she confused about the $2.4 million?”
Thomas exhaled sharply.
“Amelia, there are things you don't understand.”
“Then explain them.”
“I can't do that over the phone.”
“You've had six months to explain anything you wanted. You chose silence.”
“This isn't about our marriage.”
“No. It's about the money you took from a foundation established in my mother's name.”
“I did not steal that money.”
“Then show me where it went.”
He didn't answer.
Instead, he said, “I want you to come to the penthouse tonight. We'll talk with my attorney present.”
Amelia nearly declined.
Then she remembered the photograph of Thomas outside the medical clinic.
“Why were you at a medical clinic with a folder bearing my name?”
The silence that followed was different.
It was fear.
“Who showed you that photograph?”
“That's not an answer.”
“Amelia, listen to me. I need to see you in person.”
She agreed to meet him at seven.
Rebecca insisted on accompanying her.
The penthouse looked exactly as Amelia remembered: floor-to-ceiling windows, pale stone floors, sculptural furniture, and a dining table so long it had once seemed designed for diplomatic negotiations rather than dinner.
Thomas stood near the windows when they arrived.
Sarah sat on the sofa, pale and visibly exhausted.
A thick folder rested on the coffee table.
Thomas gestured toward the chairs.
“Sit down.”
Amelia remained standing.
“Start talking.”
He opened the folder.
Inside were copies of emails, medical correspondence, and financial records.
“Three weeks ago, someone accessed a confidential file from my company's medical insurance administrator,” he said. “The file contained information about your pregnancy.”
“My pregnancy isn't a company asset.”
“No. But someone used the information to threaten me.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
Sarah spoke quietly.
“I do.”
Thomas turned toward her.
“Sarah, don't.”
She ignored him.
“Two months ago, Thomas received a letter from someone claiming to represent an investor in the original partnership. They threatened to expose the missing foundation money unless he transferred control of several accounts.”
Amelia looked at Thomas.
“And you thought the solution was to investigate my pregnancy?”
“No,” he said. “I thought someone was using you to get to me.”
“Did you hire someone to follow me?”
He didn't answer quickly enough.
Amelia's stomach tightened.
“You did.”
“I needed to know whether you were being approached by anyone.”
“You could have called me.”
“You weren't answering my calls.”
“Because you told me to communicate through lawyers!”
His face hardened.
For a moment, the old argument threatened to consume the room. Then the baby moved sharply beneath Amelia's hand, and she stepped back, breathing through the discomfort.
Thomas noticed immediately.
“Are you okay?”
“Don't.”
He stopped.
Sarah rose from the sofa.
“Amelia, there's something else. Thomas asked me to arrange a background check on you after the separation. He thought you might have been contacted by someone connected to the foundation.”
“Why would he think that?”
“Because the person threatening him knew details only someone with access to the original records could know.”
Amelia looked at the folder.
“Did you find anything?”
Thomas rubbed his forehead.
“Yes.”
He slid a document toward her.
It was a report from a private investigator. It listed her employment at Grand Foods, her apartment address, and the dates of her prenatal appointments.
A cold wave of anger washed over her.
“You had someone watching my doctor?”
“I didn't know they were doing that.”
“You paid them.”
“I paid for a security investigation. I didn't authorize anyone to interfere with your medical care.”
“Did you tell them to find out whether the baby was yours?”
His expression changed.
“No.”
But the word sounded less like certainty than desperation.
Rebecca took the report and placed it in her briefcase.
“This investigation stops immediately. Any further contact with my client must go through my office.”
Thomas nodded, but his eyes remained fixed on Amelia.
“I never wanted you to be hurt.”
She looked at him for a long moment.
“Then why did you keep choosing things that hurt me?”
He had no answer.
Sarah began to cry silently.
Amelia turned toward her.
“Why did you stay with him?”
Sarah wiped her cheek.
“Because I thought I could fix what my mother and your mother couldn't. I thought if I stayed close enough, I could find the original records and prove Thomas hadn't taken the money for himself.”
“Did he?”
Sarah looked at Thomas.
“I don't know anymore.”
Thomas slammed his palm against the table.
“Enough.”
The sound made Amelia flinch before she could stop herself.
Thomas saw it.
His hand fell.
For the first time, he looked ashamed.
Amelia turned toward the door.
“I'm leaving.”
“Amelia, please.”
She stopped without looking back.
“If you want to be a father, you can start by learning how to be a man who doesn't need to control everyone in the room.”
She walked out.
In the elevator, Rebecca's phone rang.
She listened for twenty seconds, then looked at Amelia.
“The trust records have been located.”
“Where?”
“Inside a sealed file held by the original partnership's custodian.”
“And?”
Rebecca's face became grave.
“The trust doesn't just give you a financial interest. It gives you the right to request an independent audit of every transaction made through the partnership since its founding.”
Amelia stared at her.
“Can we do that?”
“Yes.”
“Then do it.”
Rebecca hesitated.
“There's one complication.”
“What?”
“The original partnership's records show that your mother wasn't the last person to authorize a transfer before she died.”
Amelia felt her blood turn cold.
“Who was?”
May you like
Rebecca looked down at the document.
“Thomas McCauley.”
