Chapter 3 - My Mother's Last FileI did not show Malcolm the message.
That decision may have saved me.
“What exactly did the forensic team find?” I asked.
Malcolm glanced toward the tablet.
“Only the incorporation record so far.”
“And you didn't recognize my father's name?”
“Of course I recognized it.”
His answer came too quickly.
I turned toward the window.
Boston lights slid across the glass.
My father, Daniel Vance, had died in a boating accident eleven years earlier. My mother, Eleanor, had survived him by eight years. Cancer had taken her slowly enough to give us time for conversations people usually postpone until it is too late.
She had taught me Northstar.
She had taught me markets.
She had taught me never to confuse wealth with intelligence.
But she had never mentioned Aurelia.
Not once.
“Take me to Northstar,” I told the driver.
Malcolm frowned.
“It's nearly midnight.”
“Then you should go home.”
“Audrey—”
“I'll review the documents myself.”
For a second, something cold crossed his face.
Then it disappeared.
“Of course.”
At Northstar's Boston office, I waited until Malcolm's car left before entering through the private garage.
My mother's old office remained mostly unchanged.
Walnut shelves.
Green banker lamps.
A photograph of us in Cape Cod when I was twelve.
I opened the bottom drawer of her desk.
Empty.
Then I remembered something she had told me shortly before she died.
People search where locks are. They rarely search where memories are.
I looked at the Cape Cod photograph.
Behind the frame was a small brass key.
Twenty minutes later, I found the lock it belonged to inside an old document cabinet.
A narrow compartment opened.
Inside was a single black flash drive.
I inserted it into an offline laptop.
One folder appeared.
AURELIA.
My hands went cold.
There were dozens of documents.
Bank records.
Emails.
Photographs.
And one video.
My mother appeared on the screen.
She looked thinner than I remembered.
“Audrey, if you're watching this, then something has happened that forced you into Aurelia Systems.”
I stopped breathing.
“Your father did not die because of a storm.”
I gripped the desk.
She continued.
“Daniel discovered that someone inside Northstar was using struggling companies to hide money through fabricated consulting contracts. Aurelia was one of them.”
My mother looked directly into the camera.
“Daniel intended to expose it. Three days later, his boat was found near Gloucester.”
I covered my mouth.
For eleven years, I had believed my father's death was an accident.
“There wasn't enough evidence to prove murder,” she continued. “And I made a choice you may hate me for. I stayed quiet. I spent years tracing the money instead.”
A document appeared beside her image.
C.P. Strategic Partners.
It had existed under different names for more than a decade.
My mother's voice softened.
“I never learned who ultimately controlled the network. But I learned who helped build it.”
She paused.
“Malcolm Reed.”
I closed the laptop.
The office became impossibly quiet.
My phone rang.
Julian.
I almost ignored it.
Then something made me answer.
“What?”
“Audrey, where are you?”
“Why?”
“Because Camilla disappeared.”
I stood.
“What do you mean?”
“Her apartment is empty. Her car is gone. And I found something.”
“What?”
Silence.
Then Julian said, “A photograph of your father.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Where?”
“In Camilla's desk.”
“Don't touch anything.”
“I'm already holding it.”
“Julian.”
“There are names written on the back.”
I grabbed my coat.
“Which names?”
“Your father. Malcolm Reed.”
He hesitated.
“And my father.”
I stopped.
Julian's father, Richard Mercer, had supposedly died from a heart attack nine years earlier.
“Where are you?”
“At Aurelia.”
“Stay there.”
“Audrey—”
“Don't leave.”
I disconnected.
Then the lights in Northstar's office went out.
Every light.
At once.
The emergency system should have activated.
It didn't.
I stood perfectly still.
Somewhere beyond my mother's office, a door opened.
Footsteps entered the hallway.
Slow.
Unhurried.
Someone knew I was there.
I slipped the flash drive into my dress pocket and moved toward the secondary exit.
A shadow passed beneath the office door.
Then my phone illuminated.
Unknown number.
You should have listened to your mother.
May you like
The doorknob turned.
I ran.
Related Stories
