Chapter 6 - THE DEAD WOMAN WALKS HOME
Brandon stared at me as though the mountain itself had followed him home.
His mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
For seven years, I had known every version of my husband.
Charming Brandon.
Angry Brandon.
Apologetic Brandon.
Ambitious Brandon.
The man standing barefoot on our front porch in handcuffs was someone new.
Terrified Brandon.
He looked at my stomach first.
Flat beneath my winter coat.
Then his eyes snapped to my face.
“The baby?”
I said nothing.
That frightened him more.
Torres guided him toward the police cruiser.
He suddenly struggled.
“No. Wait. Emily!”
I kept walking closer.
Ryan stayed beside me.
“You should be dead,” Brandon whispered.
There it was.
Not “thank God.”
Not “you survived.”
You should be dead.
Torres heard it.
So did three officers wearing body cameras.
Brandon realized the mistake instantly.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Yes,” I said. “You did.”
He stared at me.
I stopped five feet away.
“You smiled when you pushed me.”
His jaw tightened.
“Emily, you were injured. You don’t remember what happened.”
“I remember every second.”
“You slipped.”
“You told me my baby wouldn’t suffer long.”
“That’s insane.”
“Gretchen remembers too.”
That landed.
His eyes changed.
For the first time, Brandon understood that Gretchen had talked.
“You’re lying.”
“No.”
“Emily—”
The officers pushed him into the car.
He twisted around.
“She’s manipulating you! She’s always been unstable!”
I almost smiled.
There was the story he had prepared.
Unfortunately for Brandon, his performance was being recorded.
The cruiser door slammed.
By lunchtime, his arrest was national news.
The headline was irresistible:
MISSING PREGNANT HEIRESS FOUND ALIVE; HUSBAND CHARGED IN CLIFF MURDER PLOT.
Reporters surrounded the courthouse.
Helicopters circled our neighborhood.
People who had believed Brandon’s grieving-widower performance watched footage of me arriving alive.
But public humiliation was only the beginning.
The financial investigation exploded.
Charles’s accountants discovered Hale Group had borrowed money using forged authorizations bearing my signature.
Thirty-one million dollars.
Then forty-three.
Then sixty-two.
Brandon had been drowning.
My fifty-million-dollar death benefit was supposed to buy him time.
My inherited trust would do the rest.
Except he had misunderstood my father.
“You know what your father once told me?” Charles asked.
We sat in his private office while Noah slept nearby.
“What?”
“He didn’t trust charming men.”
I laughed for the first time in days.
“He could have mentioned that before my wedding.”
“He did.”
I stared at Charles.
“He said Brandon had hungry eyes.”
“I thought Dad meant ambition.”
“He meant appetite.”
That hurt because it was true.
Brandon had never loved what I was.
He loved what surrounded me.
Money.
Name.
Connections.
Access.
The betrayal became uglier when investigators found evidence of the affair.
It had begun three years earlier.
Three years.
While Brandon and I underwent fertility treatments.
While he held my hand after two miscarriages.
While he told me that if we never had a child, I would still be enough.
He was sleeping with Gretchen.
I thought anger had limits.
I was wrong.
Then something unexpected happened.
Gretchen asked to see me.
My answer was immediate.
“No.”
Torres respected that.
But later that evening, I reconsidered.
Not because I wanted closure.
I wanted information.
We met in a secured interview room.
Gretchen looked at Noah through the observation window.
Her face crumpled.
“He survived.”
“Yes.”
She wiped her eyes.
“I didn’t know he would actually push you.”
“You stood there.”
“I thought Brandon would scare you into signing documents.”
I laughed.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
At least she had stopped pretending.
She looked down.
“I knew something bad was going to happen.”
“You asked if I was dead.”
Her face went white.
“You heard that?”
“I heard everything.”
Silence.
Then she whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re afraid.”
She accepted that.
“Yes.”
“Why did you help him?”
“At first? Because I loved him.”
“And later?”
“Because I realized he was dangerous.”
“Yet you stayed.”
“Because leaving dangerous men can be more dangerous than staying.”
For a moment, despite everything, I understood the truth inside that sentence.
Then I remembered her wearing my coat.
“You were planning to replace me.”
Gretchen looked ashamed.
“I thought after you were gone, he would marry me.”
“Would he?”
She laughed bitterly.
“No.”
Something had happened.
“What?”
She leaned forward.
“There’s another woman.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Brandon had someone else.”
Even now he found new ways to surprise me.
“Who?”
“I don’t know her real name. I found messages three weeks before Glacier.”
“Why didn’t you confront him?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“He told me I was imagining things.”
Of course.
The same weapon he had used against me.
Make the woman doubt herself.
“Why does this matter?”
Gretchen looked toward the camera.
“Because she helped with the finances.”
My attention sharpened.
“Explain.”
“The insurance scheme wasn’t Brandon’s entire plan. Someone inside your father’s trust was helping him.”
I went still.
“Who?”
“I only heard a name once.”
“What name?”
“Daniel.”
My mind raced.
There were several Daniels connected to the trust.
Then one stood out.
Daniel Price.
Deputy administrator.
A man who had worked for my father for twenty-four years.
A man who attended my wedding.
A man who called me every birthday.
“No.”
Gretchen nodded slowly.
“Brandon called him ‘our inside door.’”
I immediately called Charles.
He did not answer.
Again.
Nothing.
A third time.
Still nothing.
Fear moved through me.
Charles had left two hours earlier for a meeting with trust administrators.
Including Daniel Price.
I called Torres.
“Find Charles.”
Police reached the trust offices twelve minutes later.
The conference room was empty.
Charles’s phone lay on the table.
So did his glasses.
There was blood on the carpet.
Security footage showed Daniel leaving through a basement garage.
A second man was with him.
Between them—
Charles.
My godfather appeared unconscious.
Torres turned toward me.
“This case just became a kidnapping.”
My heart hammered.
“Brandon is in jail.”
“Yes.”
“Then who ordered it?”
She looked at the frozen video of Daniel Price.
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
Then her phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
And slowly looked at me.
“What?”
Torres covered the microphone.
“Brandon wants to make a deal.”
“For what?”
“He says he knows who took Charles.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does he want?”
Torres’s expression hardened.
“To speak with you.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“He says if you don’t come…”
May you like
She paused.
“…Charles dies before midnight.”
