Chapter 11 - MY MOTHER’S BOXES
Alexander, Marcus, and I reached the storage building forty minutes later. My aunt was waiting outside with a police officer.
The lock had been cut. Several boxes were open. Whoever had done it had searched fast and left a mess.
My mother’s winter coat lay on the concrete floor. Seeing it there hurt more than I expected.
“I’m sorry,” my aunt said.
“It isn’t your fault.”
We went through the boxes with the officer watching. Tax forms, old photographs, grocery lists. Nothing that looked like bank records.
Then I found my mother’s recipe tin.
She used to hide cash beneath a stack of index cards when she worried about rent. I opened it. Inside were recipes, a faded photograph of us, and an envelope with my name.
Em, if someone asks about Hannah Sterling, give this to a lawyer. I promised her I would keep it safe. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.
Inside was a flash drive.
At Alexander’s office, Marcus copied it before anyone opened the files. There were account statements, photographs of signed forms, and a video Hannah had recorded at her kitchen table.
She looked tired but steady.
“North Star is taking money from Noah’s trust,” she said. “Bell says Alexander authorized it. He didn’t. I asked him about the first transfer, and he thought I was talking about a household bill.”
She held up the forged authorization.
“I’m going to a lawyer tomorrow. If I don’t make it, Marisol has copies.”
The video ended there.
Alexander sat motionless.
Eleanor watched from the opposite end of the room. “I should have believed her.”
“Yes,” he said.
The attorney confirmed the documents were enough to pursue the financial theft. They were not proof that Bell had caused Hannah’s accident. We agreed to give everything to investigators and let them examine that question.
The next morning, Vanessa gave her interview anyway.
She called me a manipulative employee and suggested Alexander had been “misled during a vulnerable family moment.” Then she produced a photograph of herself with Noah taken at a charity event six months earlier. She claimed he had been comfortable with her until I interfered.
Noah saw a clip on a television in the staff room before anyone could turn it off.
“Why is she talking about me?” he asked.
I took him outside. Alexander joined us a minute later and switched off his phone.
“I’m going to tell the truth publicly,” he said.
Noah looked at him. “Will everybody stop looking at Emma?”
“I can’t promise that.”
“Then make them look at you.”
Alexander met my eyes. For once, he had no quick answer.
That afternoon, his attorney called with worse news.
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Bell had filed a complaint against me, claiming I had taken Noah’s trust documents from the house.
Police were on their way to question me.
