Chapter 9 - THE THIRD PERSON
We moved that night.
Not because I wanted to run.
Because Noah was four days old.
Courage and recklessness were not the same thing.
Elias took us to a secured residence owned by Vale Capital.
Only Rebecca and two security officers knew the location.
My father asked to come.
I said no.
That hurt him.
I saw it.
But boundaries were not revenge.
They were consequences.
The forensic team continued examining the records from my grandfather’s house.
At 1:12 the next afternoon, Rebecca called.
“We identified the third person.”
I stood beside Noah’s crib.
“Who?”
“Daniel Cross.”
The name meant nothing to me.
Then she explained.
Daniel had been Mercer Development Group’s chief compliance officer during the Monterrey project.
He signed the internal report declaring Victor’s death accidental.
He retired six years ago.
Except he hadn’t really retired.
He had been receiving consulting payments through North Crescent ever since.
My mother paid him to keep quiet.
Grant paid him to alter records.
And when I started asking questions two years earlier, Daniel was the person who deleted my access to the accounting system.
“He knew about the copies.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“Grant told him.”
My brother had put my son in danger to protect himself.
That realization hurt more than the stolen money.
Police went to Daniel’s house.
Empty.
His bank accounts had been drained.
His passport was gone.
But investigators found surveillance photographs.
Me leaving my apartment.
Me meeting Elias.
Me entering my obstetrician’s office.
Me buying baby clothes.
My pregnancy had been documented for months.
Then they found a photograph taken three days before Noah was born.
My mother was in it.
She was sitting across from Daniel at a restaurant.
My mother had told him where I would deliver.
I felt physically ill.
Elias turned away and punched the kitchen counter with the side of his fist.
I had never seen him lose control like that.
“Elias.”
He stopped.
I touched his arm.
“Noah needs us calm.”
He looked at our son.
Then nodded.
Rebecca called again that evening.
Daniel’s car had been found.
Inside were forged passports.
Cash.
And a copy of the share-transfer agreement my mother brought to the hospital.
There was also a handwritten note.
27% BEFORE FRIDAY.
The shares were the key.
Without mine, Grant and my mother couldn’t complete whatever transaction they had planned.
Rebecca started tracing potential buyers.
At 11:40 p.m., she found one.
A holding company registered in Delaware had offered $110 million for controlling interest in Mercer Development Group.
The company was six months old.
Its beneficial owner was hidden.
But its financing came from a bank in Switzerland.
And one of the guarantors was Daniel Cross.
I stared at the transaction structure.
“They were selling Mercer to themselves.”
Rebecca nodded.
“At a suppressed valuation.”
They had stolen millions.
Now they planned to steal the entire company.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Elias looked at me.
“Don’t answer.”
I answered.
Silence.
Then a man spoke.
“Claire.”
Daniel Cross.
My blood went cold.
“You have something that belongs to me.”
“No.”
“You have twenty-seven percent of it.”
I looked at Rebecca.
She was already signaling security.
Daniel continued.
“Your mother made one mistake.”
“What?”
“She believed I worked for her.”
The call ended.
Ten seconds later, a message arrived.
It contained a live photograph.
My father.
May you like
Sitting in the back of a car.
His hands were bound.
