Chapter 6 - The Mother-in-Law’s Secret
Andrew had spent his entire life believing his mother hated scandal.
He was wrong.
Victoria Weston hated losing.
When Emma confronted her two days later through Rachel’s arranged video call, Victoria did not deny the recording.
She sat inside her Park Avenue library wearing pearls and a cream jacket.
“I wondered when you would hear that.”
Andrew, sitting beside Rachel in Pennsylvania, turned white.
“Mother?”
Victoria barely looked at him.
Emma felt an old humiliation return.
For two years, Victoria had corrected her clothes, posture, vocabulary, guest lists, even the flowers Emma chose for her own dining table.
Westons don’t use wildflowers.
Emma had spent years trying to earn affection from a woman who had apparently been discussing her like a corporate instrument.
“What did you plan?” Emma asked.
Victoria sighed.
“Nothing so melodramatic as you imagine.”
“Forty-eight million dollars is fairly melodramatic.”
“I had nothing to do with those transfers.”
Rachel interrupted.
“But you knew about Project Heir.”
“Yes.”
Andrew stood.
“What was it?”
Victoria finally looked at her son.
“A contingency.”
“For what?”
“You.”
Silence.
Victoria explained.
Andrew’s father had built Weston Capital but distrusted Andrew’s impulsiveness. Before his death, he created provisions designed to dilute Andrew’s control once a grandchild was born.
Victoria discovered those provisions years later.
So did Marcus.
They agreed Andrew required supervision.
“You planned to remove me from my own company?”
“Your father’s company.”
Andrew stared at her.
Emma watched something inside him collapse.
She understood the feeling.
Victoria continued calmly.
“Then Marcus became greedy. I withdrew my support.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“Before or after the missing money?” Rachel asked.
Victoria’s eyes narrowed.
“Before.”
“Can you prove it?”
“Yes.”
Documents arrived that afternoon.
For once, Victoria was telling the truth.
She had participated in Project Heir, but the forty-eight-million-dollar theft had happened after she withdrew.
Marcus continued alone.
Or almost alone.
Someone had authenticated the transfers.
Someone inside the Weston penthouse had supplied Emma’s tablet.
Lila became the obvious suspect again.
Then Lila disappeared.
Her apartment was empty.
Her phone was disconnected.
Her social media accounts vanished.
Andrew immediately assumed she had fled.
Emma did not.
“She likes attention too much.”
Andrew looked at her.
“What?”
“Lila built her entire life around being seen. She wouldn’t erase herself voluntarily.”
Caleb agreed.
Rachel contacted Lila’s attorney.
No response.
By evening, police became involved.
The next morning, Lila’s abandoned car was found in a parking garage near Newark Airport.
Her purse was inside.
So was her passport.
Andrew sat at Emma’s parents’ kitchen table when the news arrived.
He covered his face.
“This is my fault.”
Emma said nothing.
He looked older.
Not because of wrinkles.
Because arrogance had stopped holding him upright.
“I brought her into this.”
“You had an affair with her,” Emma said. “You didn’t kidnap her.”
He flinched.
She did not soften the truth.
“But if you know something, tell Rachel.”
Andrew did.
For six hours.
He gave passwords, names, offshore contacts and details about Marcus’s authority.
By midnight, Rachel discovered a warehouse company in New Jersey connected to one of Marcus’s shell corporations.
Police searched it.
Lila was not there.
But they found something else.
Emma’s missing tablet.
And security footage.
The video showed Marcus entering the warehouse.
Beside him walked Dr. Steven Hall.
Emma’s obstetrician.
The betrayal suddenly became more frightening than money.
Rachel insisted Emma switch doctors immediately.
Caleb arranged a highly regarded maternal-fetal specialist in Philadelphia.
He did it without announcing that he had done it.
He simply sent Rachel three names and let Emma choose.
That evening Emma found him repairing a broken porch swing with her father.
“You own an aviation company,” she said.
Caleb looked up.
“Correct.”
“You know how to repair porch swings?”
“No.”
Robert called from inside.
“He absolutely does not.”
Emma laughed.
Caleb smiled.
Then his expression became serious.
“How are you?”
Nobody had asked her that all day.
Not about the investigation.
Not about Andrew.
Her.
“I’m scared.”
Caleb nodded.
“I know.”
“I keep wondering whether every person around me wants something.”
“I probably do.”
Emma looked at him.
He continued.
“I want your father to stop giving me terrible tools. I want your mother to send me home with cinnamon rolls. And I want you to stop looking like you’re apologizing every time you need help.”
Her eyes filled.
Caleb looked away, giving her privacy even while standing beside her.
“Why didn’t you ever get married?” she asked.
He smiled faintly.
“Bad timing.”
“That sounds evasive.”
“It is.”
She studied him.
“Was there someone?”
Caleb looked at her then.
For one dangerous second, neither moved.
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“She married somebody else.”
Emma’s breath caught.
Before she could ask more, Rachel opened the back door.
“We found Lila.”
Emma spun around.
“Where?”
“Philadelphia.”
“Is she okay?”
Rachel’s face told them she was alive.
But not safe.
“She walked into an FBI field office twenty minutes ago.”
“And?”
May you like
Rachel held up her phone.
“She says Marcus Vale ordered her killed.”
