Chapter 4 - The Secret Behind the Insurance Policy
Margaret Carter had never liked me.
From the day Michael introduced us, she treated me as though I had stolen something that belonged to her.
She criticized my clothes, my education, and the small apartment I had lived in before marrying her son.
But I had never imagined she would help him murder me.
Adrian laid a collection of financial records across the hospital table.
Margaret had introduced Michael to an insurance broker named Victor Hale. She had also arranged a series of meetings between Michael and a shell company registered overseas.
At first, the records looked unrelated.
Then I noticed the dates.
The first meeting had taken place two weeks before Michael proposed to me.
The second occurred shortly before our wedding.
The third was scheduled for the day after my funeral.
“Why would his mother be involved?” I asked.
“Because she needs money,” Adrian replied. “And because your husband owes someone a great deal more than he can repay.”
“How much?”
“Nearly twelve million dollars.”
I stared at him.
“Michael always said his investments were doing well.”
“They were. Until he began gambling with money that belonged to people who don't forgive losses.”
Adrian's tone remained calm, but something in it warned me not to ask what happened to those people who did.
He continued.
“Your husband borrowed money from a network of private lenders. When he couldn't pay, he promised them a share of the insurance proceeds.”
“And Margaret?”
“She guaranteed part of his debt.”
I felt sick.
“So they planned this together.”
“We have evidence of financial coordination. We don't yet have proof that Margaret knew he intended to push you.”
“What about Ashley?”
“She helped arrange the trip and booked the hotel. We also found messages about the policy. She knew he intended to collect the money.”
I closed my eyes.
Michael had kissed my forehead before we left home.
He had carried my suitcase.
He had told me he couldn't wait to become a father.
Every memory had become contaminated.
Then Adrian's phone rang.
He listened without speaking.
When he ended the call, his expression had changed.
“What happened?”
“Someone accessed your old bank account this morning.”
“That's impossible. Michael controls our finances.”
“Not anymore.”
He turned the phone toward me.
A photograph showed a man leaving a storage facility outside Denver.
I recognized him instantly.
Thomas.
My missing brother looked older, thinner, and more serious than I remembered. But it was unmistakably him.
I reached for the phone with trembling fingers.
“Where is he?”
“That's what we're going to find out.”
“Then take me to him.”
“You're not medically cleared to travel.”
“I don't care.”
Adrian's gray eyes hardened.
“I do.”
His words stopped me.
He lowered his voice.
“You can hate me for keeping you here. You can accuse me of controlling your life. But I will not let you die trying to solve eleven years of pain in eleven hours.”
I looked away, furious because he was right.
Then he placed the photograph in my hand.
“Your brother left a message.”
I looked up.
“What message?”
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Adrian's answer changed everything.
“He said, ‘Tell Emily the money was never the real reason they wanted her dead.’”
