Chapter 13 - THE LAST PIECE OF THE PUZZLE

I stared at my own name on the screen.

JONATHAN PRESCOTT.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Not Hannah.

Not Martin.

Not even me.

Because sometimes the truth hurts less when it comes from an enemy.

But when it comes from someone you love…

it breaks something inside you.

“What does that mean?”

Hannah’s voice was barely a whisper.

I looked at the frozen image.

My name.

My wife’s warning.

A secret she carried to her grave.

“I don’t know.”

But deep down…

I knew.

The truth was never about someone stealing my company.

It was about someone making me believe I was the problem.

---

We played the video again.

Elizabeth appeared on the screen.

Older footage.

Our old house.

The kitchen where she used to dance while cooking dinner.

The place where our family was still whole.

“Jonathan,” she said.

“If you’re watching this, you need to understand something.”

She looked exhausted.

Not afraid.

Determined.

“You have spent your entire life trusting people because you believe seeing the good in others makes you a better person.”

I felt my throat tighten.

That sounded exactly like her.

“But sometimes, Jonathan, kindness without caution becomes a weakness.”

Hannah looked at me.

Because she knew those words were meant for me.

“Someone has been creating problems around you for years.”

Elizabeth continued.

“Someone has been making you lose trust in the people who truly love you.”

The screen flickered.

Then came the sentence that changed everything.

“The person behind this is not trying to take your money.”

A pause.

“They are trying to take your identity.”

My heart raced.

“What does that mean?”

The video continued.

“I found documents showing someone has been preparing to replace you.”

Replace me?

Impossible.

Then Elizabeth showed a file.

A medical document.

A legal document.

A psychological evaluation.

My name was on every page.

But the information wasn’t mine.

Someone had created a false version of me.

A version that looked unstable.

Unreliable.

Unable to manage my own company.

I felt sick.

“They wanted to make everyone believe Jonathan Prescott was losing control.”

Elizabeth’s voice became softer.

“So when they took everything from him, nobody would question it.”

---

The video ended.

Nobody moved.

Then Martin whispered:

“Your attorney.”

I looked at him.

“What?”

“He created those documents.”

The room went silent.

My attorney.

The man who had handled my contracts for twenty years.

The man who helped me write my will.

The man who knew every detail of my life.

I grabbed my phone.

I called him.

No answer.

Again.

Nothing.

Then a message appeared.

UNKNOWN NUMBER.

DON’T CALL HIM.

HE ALREADY KNOWS.

I looked at Hannah.

“He knows.”

---

That night, we went to my attorney’s office.

The building was dark.

Empty.

The security guard was missing.

The lights were off.

But the door was unlocked.

Inside, everything had been searched.

Drawers open.

Files scattered.

Computers missing.

Someone had been there before us.

Hannah picked up a piece of paper from the floor.

“Dad.”

I walked over.

It was a copy of a legal document.

At the top:

SUCCESSION TRANSFER AGREEMENT.

At the bottom:

AUTHORIZED BY JONATHAN PRESCOTT.

Except the date was tomorrow.

I looked at the calendar.

Tomorrow.

The final transfer.

The plan wasn’t finished.

It was still happening.

---

Then we heard footsteps.

Someone outside.

Martin turned off the lights.

“Hide.”

We moved behind a cabinet.

The office door opened.

A man walked in.

Slowly.

Confidently.

He turned on the light.

And I saw him.

My attorney.

But he wasn’t alone.

Behind him stood Richard Blake.

Richard smiled.

“You always were too curious, Jonathan.”

I stepped out.

Everyone froze.

Richard’s smile disappeared.

For the first time…

he looked surprised.

“Hello, old friend.”

I stared at him.

“You killed my wife.”

His expression changed.

“No.”

He shook his head.

“You still don’t understand.”

He stepped closer.

“Your wife died because she discovered the truth.”

“What truth?”

Richard smiled.

“The truth that you were never the victim.”

My heart stopped.

“What are you talking about?”

Richard looked at me.

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