Robert Sterling had been dead for twelve years.
At least, that was what the family believed.
A funeral had been held.
A death certificate existed.
There were photographs.
There was even a memorial stone.
Now Marcus stared at the records with disbelief.
“This can't be right.”
My uncle said nothing.
I looked at him.
“You knew?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
“Then how could Isaac know?”
“I don't know.”
Julian searched the databases.
“There is no recent legal activity under Robert Sterling's name.”
“Because he's dead.”
“Officially.”
Caleb pulled up corporate records.
“Someone has been signing documents using a variation of his initials.”
My heart began pounding.
“What variation?”
R.S.
My father's initials had been R.S.
So had Robert's.
The network had used my father's identity as cover.
Or Robert's.
Or both.
Leo traced the ownership chain.
“We need the original ledger.”
“The one Isaac mentioned.”
Marcus nodded.
“It may identify the financier.”
Thomas looked at me.
“The ledger is probably in the Sterling vault.”
I stared at him.
“We just searched it.”
“Not completely.”
“What did we miss?”
He looked embarrassed.
“Your father built a second compartment.”
My uncle closed his eyes.
“Of course he did.”
We returned to the old house.
This time, nobody spoke.
We went directly to the archive.
Thomas stood beside the steel wall.
“There.”
A narrow seam was almost invisible beneath the shelves.
Caleb moved the shelves aside.
A second compartment appeared.
It required no key.
Only pressure.
The door opened.
Inside was a single black ledger.
My father's final book.
Marcus lifted it.
The first page contained names.
The second contained percentages.
The third contained bank routes.
Then came the page we had been searching for.
A handwritten list of financiers.
At the bottom was one name.
Robert Sterling.
I felt the room tilt.
My uncle sat down.
“No.”
My father's handwriting filled the margin.
Robert has been alive all along.
Below it:
He controls Meridian Crest through intermediaries.
And beneath that:
He is not working alone.
My hands shook.
“Who else?”
Marcus turned the page.
A photograph was attached.
Robert stood beside someone.
I recognized the second person immediately.
Thomas.
I looked at him.
He didn't move.
“You worked with him.”
Thomas shook his head.
“I worked against him.”
The photograph showed something else.
Thomas was handing Robert a document.
My uncle stared.
“That's not possible.”
Thomas's voice broke.
“It was staged.”
“By whom?”
“Your father.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“To make Robert believe I was still loyal.”
Marcus examined the image.
“There are several copies.”
Thomas nodded.
“Your father used them as protection.”
I looked at the ledger again.
The entries revealed that Robert had manipulated the family business for years.
He had created Meridian Crest.
He had used Arthur.
He had recruited Daniel Cross.
He had eventually recruited Ethan.
And he had arranged for Isaac to marry me.
But there was something else.
A payment made one day before my father's death.
Robert Sterling to Arthur Vance.
Then another.
Arthur to Daniel Cross.
Then a final payment.
Daniel Cross to an unknown recipient.
My father had written beside it:
The final order.
I stared at the words.
“Final order?”
Thomas nodded.
“He knew someone had been instructed to kill him.”
My uncle covered his face.
I couldn't breathe.
“Who gave the order?”
“We don't know.”
Marcus turned the ledger.
A folded note had been inserted inside.
He opened it.
One sentence.
Robert did not give the order.
I looked up.
“What?”
My father had written more beneath it.
Robert wanted me ruined, not dead.
That meant someone else had wanted my father killed.
Someone higher.
Or someone closer.
My uncle whispered, “Who?”
We didn't know.
Then Caleb's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He listened.
Then looked at me.
“Evan Cross escaped custody.”
My stomach dropped.
“How?”
“Transport vehicle was attacked.”
“Is Isaac safe?”
Caleb paused.
“Isaac wasn't being transported.”
I looked at Julian.
“Then who was?”
“Arthur.”
I felt cold.
Robert had been alive.
Evan was free.
Arthur had disappeared.
And the person who ordered my father's death remained unidentified.
We moved the evidence immediately.
Noah wanted to take me somewhere secure.
I refused.
“We need to finish this.”
“Flora—”
“No.”
I held the ledger.
“My father spent fifteen years trying to leave me enough to understand what happened.”
I looked at my brothers.
“I am not running now.”
Noah stared at me for several seconds.
Then nodded.
“All right.”
That evening, Thomas finally told us the truth about the night my father died.
He had been at the Sterling house.
My mother had been there too.
Robert had called.
He threatened to expose her involvement in moving the money.
My father confronted him.
The argument escalated.
Then someone arrived.
A second man.
Unknown.
My father sent Thomas away with the evidence.
Thomas obeyed.
He heard a gunshot as he left.
I closed my eyes.
“Did you see the second man?”
“No.”
“Did my mother?”
“I don't know.”
My uncle looked at Thomas.
“You lied to us for fifteen years.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because your father told me to.”
That stopped everyone.
Thomas reached into his coat.
He removed another envelope.
“He gave me this the night he died.”
I opened it.
Inside was one photograph.
A man standing outside the house.
His face was partially hidden.
But his wrist was visible.
A distinctive silver watch.
My uncle stared.
“I know that watch.”
I looked at him.
“Whose?”
He whispered the name.
I felt my blood run cold.
It belonged to my mother.
Click here to continue reading: PART 12: The Watch in the Photograph Belonged to My Mother, but the Next Clue Proved the Truth Was Far More Complicated Than Betrayal
The Last Strike Changed the Woman Isaac Thought He Could Control Forever
Part 11 of 20
