Chương 8
I could not wear it again.
Not yet.
Downstairs, Sterling was already in the kitchen.
He had removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves.
For the first time since I met him, he looked tired.
Not professionally tired.
Human tired.
“You should sleep,” I said.
He looked up.
“That is what I was about to tell you.”
“I am pregnant.”
“I noticed.”
“I need more sleep than you.”
A small smile appeared on his face.
It disappeared quickly.
“I made coffee.”
“I cannot drink coffee anymore.”
“I remember.”
That surprised me.
“You remember?”
“David mentioned it.”
I looked away.
Of course he did.
David remembered everything about me.
Even things I forgot were important.
Sterling poured water into a glass and placed it in front of me.
“Did you sleep at all?”
“A little.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the only one I have.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
For a few seconds, we were just two people standing in a kitchen.
Not a widow and an attorney.
Not a target and a protector.
Just two exhausted people trying to understand how everything had changed.
Then Sterling placed the flash drive on the counter.
The moment I saw it, the normal feeling disappeared.
“We need to examine this.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere secure.”
“You mean not here.”
“Yes.”
I looked around.
My house.
Our house.
The place where David and I had built a life.
“Do you think this place is compromised?”
“I think we cannot assume it is not.”
That answer hurt.
Because it meant David’s fortress had already failed.
“What if it is a trap?”
“It could be.”
“Then why are we going to open it?”
“Because whoever left it wanted us to find it.”
I stared at him.
“That sounds like a reason not to.”
“It is.”
He paused.
“But it is also a reason to know what they wanted us to see.”
I understood.
A trap still contained information.
And right now, information was the only thing keeping me alive.
An hour later, we were in Sterling’s private office downtown.
It was nothing like David’s office.
David’s space was warm.
Books everywhere.
Photographs.
Half-finished projects.
Sterling’s office looked like nobody lived there.
Clean lines.
Empty walls.
Everything had a purpose.
“You do not decorate.”
He glanced at me.
“I have art.”
I looked around.
A single painting hung behind his desk.
A gray ocean.
“That counts?”
“Yes.”
“It looks lonely.”
He looked at the painting.
“It is supposed to.”
I did not ask more.
Everyone carried things they did not explain.
Even people who spent their lives uncovering other people’s secrets.
A technician connected the drive to an isolated computer.
No internet.
No network.
Nothing that could send information out.
The files appeared.
Three folders.
The first was labeled:
FINANCIAL REVIEW.
The second:
VANESSA COLE.
The third:
SARAH.
My chest tightened.
“Why is my name there?”
Sterling did not answer.
The technician opened the first folder.
Documents filled the screen.
Bank transfers.
Company records.
Internal emails.
At first, they looked meaningless.
Numbers.
Dates.
Names.
Then I saw something.
A name repeated across several documents.
Eleanor Whitmore.
I leaned closer.
“No.”
Sterling looked at me.
“You recognize this?”
“She told me she had nothing to do with the company finances.”
“Did you believe her?”
The question annoyed me.
“Yes.”
Not because Eleanor deserved my trust.
Because David had always tried to protect his mother.
Even when she made it difficult.
The documents showed payments from company accounts to a consulting firm.
A company called Northbridge Advisory.
The address was a small office building in New Jersey.
The amount transferred over two years was enormous.
“Is that illegal?”
Sterling studied the documents.
“Not automatically.”
“Then why did David care?”
The technician opened another file.
This one contained emails.
The first few were ordinary.
Scheduling.
Invoices.
Approvals.
Then one email appeared.
From Eleanor.
To someone named Victor Hale.
The message was short.
Need confirmation that the wife remains unaware.
I stopped breathing.
Sterling opened the email details.
The date was six weeks before David died.
Another message followed.
Victor replied:
She knows nothing.
David still believes he can fix this quietly.
I stared at the screen.
The words felt impossible.
“She was talking about me.”
Sterling nodded.
“Yes.”
My hands became cold.
“She knew.”
“We do not know exactly what she knew.”
“She knew enough.”
The room was silent.
Because there was no defense for that.
The next file opened automatically.
A scanned document.
A contract.
The signature at the bottom belonged to Eleanor.
But the person she signed with was not Victor Hale.
It was Vanessa Cole.
I looked at Sterling.
“You said Vanessa disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“She did not disappear.”
He looked at the screen.
“No.”
The realization settled slowly.
Vanessa had not vanished.
Someone had hidden her.
The technician opened the last folder.
Sarah.
Inside was one video file.
Created two days before David died.
I felt my heart stop.
“Play it.”
Sterling looked at me.
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
I swallowed.
“But play it.”
The video began.
David appeared.
This time he looked different.
No suit.
No controlled expression.
He looked exhausted.
“Sarah.”
I pressed my lips together.
“I am making this recording because I may not get the chance to explain everything.”
The room became silent.
“I found the connection.”
He looked down.
“The person helping the people who were stealing from the company.”
My fingers tightened.
“It was not just someone taking money.”
David continued.
“They were building a case against me.”
A chill moved through me.
“A case?”
“They wanted investors to believe I was responsible for the missing funds.”
He paused.
“And if I was removed, they would control everything.”
Sterling leaned closer.
David looked directly into the camera.
“But that is not the worst part.”
The video froze for a second because of a connection issue.
Then continued.
“The person who arranged the accident did not do it because of the company.”
May you like
My breath stopped.
“They did it because I found out what they were really trying to buy.”
