Chapter 5 - RACHEL’S LAST WARNING
Christopher tore the envelope open.
Inside was a letter.
Three pages.
His hands shook as he read.
Chris,
If you’re reading this, something happened to me.
And if something happened to me, please do not accept the first explanation they give you.
Christopher stopped.
His chest tightened.
Marcus moved closer.
“What is it?”
Christopher kept reading.
Your mother came to see me again.
She knows where we live.
She knows about Emma.
She told me accidents happen to women who force powerful families into public scandals.
Christopher’s vision blurred.
He looked up at Estelle.
“You threatened her.”
Estelle folded her arms.
“Rachel was dramatic.”
Christopher’s voice cracked.
“She died in a car accident.”
“Yes.”
“Six weeks after writing this.”
Estelle’s expression didn’t change.
Christopher looked down again.
Rachel had written more.
If I die, take Emma somewhere far away from the Pierce family.
Do not let Estelle raise her.
Do not let her control her money.
And Chris—
if my brakes fail, it was not an accident.
Christopher felt the room tilt.
“No.”
Marcus took the letter.
His face changed as he read.
Estelle finally lost patience.
“Oh, for God’s sake. Rachel was paranoid.”
Christopher turned toward her.
“Were her brakes examined?”
“Of course.”
“By whom?”
“The insurance company.”
“Which company?”
Estelle didn’t answer.
Christopher remembered.
Pierce Holdings owned a major share in Barron Mutual.
The insurer that had handled Rachel’s accident.
He grabbed the desk phone.
No tone.
The line was dead.
Marcus checked the hall.
“Someone cut internal communications.”
Estelle looked almost amused.
“You’re making this very dramatic.”
Christopher stepped so close that for the first time, his mother had to look up at him.
“If you had anything to do with Rachel’s death—”
“You’ll what?”
Christopher stared at her.
Estelle lowered her voice.
“You think being angry makes you dangerous, Christopher?”
“No.”
He took Rachel’s letter back.
“But being a father does.”
A loud pounding shook the study door.
Yvette rushed in.
“Sir!”
Christopher turned.
“Emma?”
“She’s gone.”
Every muscle in his body locked.
“What?”
“I turned around for maybe twenty seconds. She was beside me, and then she wasn’t.”
Christopher ran into the hallway.
“EMMA!”
No answer.
Then one of the mansion speakers crackled.
Static.
A child breathing.
Christopher stopped dead.
“Emma?”
A tiny voice came through.
“Daddy?”
Christopher looked up at the ceiling speaker.
“I’m here!”
“I’m in the dark.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Emma whispered—
May you like
“Grandma’s here.”
The speaker went silent.
