Chapter 5 - The Paper Trail
Z
Claire didn't scream. She didn't drop the blue folder. Instead, the terrified, dutiful wife persona evaporated instantly, replaced by a cold, calculating composure that made her look like an entirely different person.
"You were always too observant for your own good, David," she said smoothly, leaning back on her heels. She held up the blue folder. "Though I suppose I should have cleared this out before I married you. Sloppy on my part."
"Who are you?" I demanded, taking a step forward. "Who was the man on the tape?"
Claire chuckled—a dry, humorless sound that echoed off the wooden beams. "You listened to the raw audio file. I knew I should have wiped that digital recorder when I had the chance, but you kept it locked in your safe."
"What did you do to Sarah?" I stepped closer, my fists clenched so hard my knuckles turned white. "Answer me!"
"I didn't kill her, if that’s what you're thinking," Claire said calmly, standing up and dusting off her knees. "I just... facilitated her passing. Sarah had a pre-existing vascular condition. All it took was a subtle adjustment to her IV dosage post-delivery. A tiny mistake by an exhausted nurse. Tragically fatal. Utterly untraceable."
My stomach turned over. "You poisoned her."
"I ensured the outcome that needed to happen," Claire corrected sharp as a razor. "Do you have any idea who Sarah really was, David? Do you have any idea where her family’s money came from?"
I stared at her, stunned. "Sarah was an orphan. Her parents died in a car crash when she was eighteen."
Claire laughed loudly this time, a cruel, mocking sound. "Is that what she told you? Sarah was Sarah Montgomery. Daughter of Arthur Montgomery. Her family owned Montgomery Pharmaceuticals—the very company that went bankrupt after the federal fraud indictment five years ago."
"That has nothing to do with me," I spat.
"It has everything to do with you!" Claire snapped, her eyes flashing with sudden rage. "Arthur Montgomery stole millions from my father! He ruined my family! My father shot himself in his office because of what Sarah’s family did! And Sarah walk away with tens of millions hidden in offshore trust funds—trust funds that automatically transferred to her legal heir upon her death!"
The puzzle pieces were crashing together in my mind, forming a picture far bigger and more terrifying than I had ever imagined.
"Ari," I whispered, the reality hitting me like a physical blow. "The trust fund isn't yours. It belongs to Ari."
"And as her stepmother and legal guardian, should anything unfortunate happen to you, David... I administer the fund until she turns twenty-one," Claire smiled—a hideous, triumphantly twisted expression. "It took me three years to find you. Three years to track down Sarah's hidden estate. I bought that toy store specifically because I knew your mother took Ari there every Tuesday."
"You monster," I breathed.
"I’m a woman reclaiming what belongs to my family," Claire corrected coldly. She pulled the silver lighter from her pocket and flicked the wheel. A small orange flame danced in the dim light of the attic. "And now, David, you're going to hand over that voice recorder, or this attic goes up in flames with all of Sarah’s precious memories."
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"I don't think so," a voice called out from the ladder behind me.
I turned around. Standing on the stairs was Detective Miller, a friend of my late wife’s family, holding a service pistol aimed directly at Claire’s chest.
