Chapter 3 - My Father’s Last Account
My father had been dead for eleven years.
That was the first thing I said.
The wounded security guard was named Owen Price. Gabriel's men carried him into the estate's medical room while the remaining guests were quietly moved into the reinforced wine cellar beneath the east wing.
I refused to go.
Matthias argued.
Gabriel ended the argument.
“She stays with me.”
Normally I would have objected to being discussed like luggage.
Tonight, I let it go.
Owen had lost enough blood to make his lips gray. The bullet had entered high in his shoulder, missing the major vessels, but he needed a hospital.
The roads were temporarily blocked.
So the trauma nurse in me took over.
I cut his shirt.
Packed the wound.
Checked his pulse.
Ordered Matthias to hold pressure.
For once, he obeyed without argument.
“You said my father left something,” I told Owen. “What?”
He looked at Matthias.
“Get him out.”
“This is my house,” Matthias said.
“Technically,” I replied, “it's your parents’ house.”
Gabriel almost smiled.
Matthias did not.
Owen grabbed my wrist.
“Your father didn't die owing money.”
My breath stopped.
Everyone had told me otherwise.
My father, Daniel Carroway, had owned a modest accounting practice in Stamford. After his fatal car accident, we discovered debts everywhere.
My mother sold our house.
I worked nights through nursing school.
For years, I believed my father had hidden his financial problems because he was ashamed.
Owen shook his head.
“He was auditing Hensley.”
Gabriel stepped closer.
“When?”
“Twelve years ago.”
A year before Dad died.
My hands went cold.
“What did he find?”
“A ledger.”
Matthias whispered, “Jesus.”
I looked at him.
“You know about this?”
“Not your father.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“Hensley was dirty before Dre Holdings ever considered acquiring it.”
“And you knew?”
“I suspected.”
Gabriel's voice hardened.
“You don't spend eight hundred million dollars on suspicion.”
Matthias glared at him.
“This isn't your company.”
“No. That's why I can still see it clearly.”
Owen coughed.
I checked his pressure again.
Still low.
“Stay with me.”
His eyes found mine.
“The ledger proves Hensley executives paid officials, contractors, and intermediaries through offshore accounts. Your father copied everything.”
“Where?”
“He hid the encryption key.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
My frustration sharpened.
“Then why do they need me?”
“Because Daniel made you the recovery authority.”
I stared at him.
“I was twenty-two when he died.”
“He trusted you.”
“I knew nothing about his work.”
“That was the point.”
Gabriel asked, “Who is looking for the key?”
Owen hesitated.
Then he looked at Matthias.
“Someone inside Dre Holdings.”
Matthias stood.
“Name them.”
“I don't know.”
“You came here bleeding and somehow know all this, but you don't know who's behind it?”
“I was paid to watch your internal security.”
“By whom?”
Owen looked at Gabriel.
“Federal contact.”
Gabriel's expression changed.
“You're an informant?”
Owen nodded.
The room became very quiet.
Then a radio crackled.
One of Gabriel's people spoke.
“Vehicles approaching south road.”
“How many?”
“Three.”
Gabriel checked his watch.
“Police?”
“No lights. Plates obscured.”
He turned toward me.
“We're moving.”
Matthias stepped forward.
“I'm coming.”
“No.”
“She's my wife.”
I looked at him.
“Were you thinking about that in New Haven?”
Pain flashed across his face.
Good.
I wanted it to.
Gabriel escorted me through the kitchen toward a secondary staircase. Matthias followed anyway, while two security officers carried Owen.
Fiona waited near the pantry.
She was barefoot now, holding her heels in one hand.
The diamond necklace still glittered at her throat.
I stopped.
“Take it off.”
She stared at me.
“What?”
“The necklace.”
“Serena—”
“Take. It. Off.”
Her fingers moved immediately.
She unclasped it.
For one absurd second, she looked ashamed.
She held it toward me.
I did not take it.
“Keep it.”
Matthias flinched.
I turned away.
The mansion's lower corridor led to an underground garage.
Gabriel's team had three SUVs waiting.
We were almost there when my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I stopped walking.
Gabriel noticed.
“Don't answer.”
It vibrated again.
A message appeared.
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED HOME.
Then another.
ASK YOUR HUSBAND ABOUT ACCOUNT 712.
I showed Gabriel.
Matthias saw it over my shoulder.
His face went blank.
There it was again.
Recognition.
“What is Account 712?”
“Serena.”
“What is it?”
He looked toward Gabriel.
Then at the security officers.
“Not here.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You have got to stop saying that.”
A crash sounded somewhere above us.
Gabriel pushed open the garage door.
“Move.”
Snow blew inside.
We hurried toward the vehicles.
My abdomen suddenly tightened.
I stopped.
Pain wrapped around my lower back.
Gabriel turned.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Serena.”
“Braxton Hicks.”
I hoped.
Thirty-two weeks was too early.
I breathed through it.
Then another pain came.
Stronger.
Matthias rushed toward me.
I raised one hand.
“Don't.”
That stopped him more effectively than shouting.
Gabriel opened the rear SUV door.
“Hospital.”
“No.”
His eyes sharpened.
“I am a nurse. I know what premature labor feels like. Give me sixty seconds.”
I counted my breathing.
The contraction eased.
Then my phone rang.
This time the caller ID showed a name.
MOM.
I answered immediately.
“Mom?”
Nobody spoke.
Then a man's voice said:
“Account 712, Serena.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“Where is my mother?”
“Safe, for now.”
Gabriel held out his hand for the phone.
I switched to speaker.
“What do you want?”
The man laughed softly.
“Not money.”
“Then what?”
“Your father stole something.”
“My father is dead.”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“And if you want your mother to remain alive, you'll finish what he started.”
My hand covered my stomach.
“What does that mean?”
“You'll understand when you open Account 712.”
The line disconnected.
Matthias whispered, “Serena…”
I turned.
“What?”
He looked devastated.
And terrified.
“I know what Account 712 is.”
Gabriel stared at him.
May you like
Matthias swallowed.
“It belongs to me.”
