His name was Richard Sloan.
For six years, I had trusted him because Michael trusted him.
That realization almost made me laugh.
Trusting people because Michael trusted them was becoming an impressively reliable way to discover criminals.
Richard handled our estate planning.
He knew about our house.
Our savings.
My insurance.
Apparently, he also knew I was supposed to die.
Federal agents searched his office before dawn.
By sunrise, they understood just how large the conspiracy was.
Richard hadn't merely helped Michael increase my insurance policy.
He had created shell corporations.
He had hidden payments to Victor.
He had arranged Ashley's money.
And four months earlier, he had requested documents related to my mother's trust.
He had also chartered a private aircraft scheduled to leave Colorado forty-eight hours after my “funeral.”
Destination: Belize.
Michael had planned everything.
Except me surviving.
“They missed the flight,” Agent Laura Reynolds told us.
I was seated in Dominic's house outside Denver.
Not a mansion.
A fortress pretending to be a mountain home.
Stone walls.
Huge windows.
Security cameras.
Enough land around it that no vehicle could approach unseen.
Doctors had finally discharged me under strict instructions to rest.
Dominic had offered me the safest guest room.
I accepted because I had nowhere else I trusted.
My own home belonged to memories I wasn't ready to face.
Agent Reynolds spread photographs across the table.
“Michael, Ashley, Victor and Sloan all vanished last night.”
“Four adults don't disappear accidentally,” Dominic said.
“No.”
“Phones?”
“Burned or abandoned.”
“Vehicles?”
“Michael's SUV was found near Denver International.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did they leave the state?”
“We don't think so.”
“Why?”
Reynolds looked at me.
“Because Michael withdrew eighty thousand dollars in cash this morning.”
“Where?”
“A bank in Fort Collins.”
I stared.
“He's still here.”
“Yes.”
Dominic's expression turned grim.
“He knows Claire's alive.”
Reynolds didn't disagree.
“How?”
I asked the question even though part of me already knew.
Someone had leaked it.
Maybe a police officer.
Hospital worker.
Insurance investigator.
Lawyer.
When money reached nine figures, secrets became expensive.
Reynolds leaned forward.
“We're assuming he knows until proven otherwise.”
I wrapped both hands around a mug I wasn't drinking from.
“What happens now?”
“You remain protected.”
“And Michael?”
“We find him.”
Dominic stood near the fireplace.
“How long?”
Reynolds gave him a look.
“You know I can't answer that.”
“I wasn't asking for certainty.”
“Then I'll say this. He has money, help and a reason to run.”
“And a reason to come after Claire,” Dominic said.
Silence.
I felt my baby move.
Dominic noticed my hand shift toward my belly.
His expression softened almost imperceptibly.
“We increase security.”
Agent Reynolds nodded.
For two days, nothing happened.
No Michael.
No Ashley.
No Victor.
No Richard.
I began sleeping more.
Eating again.
Doctors checked the baby's heartbeat twice daily.
Strong.
Stable.
Miraculous.
Dominic rarely left the house.
When he did, men appeared in his place.
He had an entire staff, but everyone moved quietly around me.
No unnecessary questions.
No pity.
On the third morning, I found Dominic in the kitchen making coffee.
I stared.
“You cook?”
“Coffee isn't cooking.”
“You look like someone who has assistants for oxygen.”
He glanced at me.
“Good morning to you too.”
It was the first time I'd teased anyone since the fall.
The fact surprised us both.
I sat carefully.
He pushed a plate toward me.
Toast.
Eggs.
Fruit.
“You said you don't cook.”
“I didn't cook the fruit.”
I smiled.
Then guilt hit me.
How could I smile while my husband was missing and people were hunting him?
Dominic seemed to read my face.
“You're allowed.”
“Allowed what?”
“To have five normal seconds.”
I looked down.
“Feels wrong.”
“Why?”
“Because everything isn't normal.”
“It may never be normal in the same way again.”
He sat opposite me.
“That doesn't mean Michael gets every second you have left.”
The words settled inside me.
I took a bite.
Five normal seconds became ten.
Then Dominic's phone rang.
His expression changed instantly.
“Vale.”
He listened.
“Where?”
Another pause.
“I'll be there.”
He stood.
“What happened?”
“Michael's car.”
“They found it?”
“Another one.”
He pulled on his jacket.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“If it has anything to do with me, I'm coming.”
“You're seven months pregnant with cracked ribs.”
“And somehow still more reasonable than every man who keeps telling me to sit quietly.”
He stared.
I stared back.
Ten minutes later, we left together.
The vehicle had been abandoned beside an old warehouse in an industrial area north of Denver.
Police already surrounded it.
Agent Reynolds approached us.
“I told Vale not to bring you.”
“And he demonstrated excellent judgment by ignoring you.”
She almost smiled.
“Stay behind the line.”
A black sedan sat near the warehouse.
Inside, police found cash.
A passport.
Clothing.
And blood.
Not Michael's.
Ashley Monroe's.
My stomach twisted.
“Is she dead?”
“No body.”
We entered the warehouse only after investigators cleared it.
One room contained a chair.
Rope.
A broken phone.
Ashley had been there.
Michael had turned on his accomplice.
Dominic's earlier words returned.
People like Michael didn't have partners.
Only tools.
Then an officer found a message scratched into dust on the floor.
Three letters.
C H C
“What does that mean?” Reynolds asked.
I knew immediately.
“Carter Holdings Company.”
Michael's business.
Their oldest warehouse.
South Denver.
Police moved within minutes.
I remained behind with Dominic.
“You think Ashley left it?”
“Yes.”
“Why would she help us?”
“Because she's learned what you learned.”
“What?”
“That Michael only loves Michael.”
We drove toward Carter Holdings surrounded by unmarked vehicles.
Halfway there, Reynolds's phone rang.
She answered.
Her face changed.
“Slow down.”
Then:
“Is she alive?”
I gripped Dominic's arm.
Reynolds listened.
“All right. Ambulance first. Nobody questions her until she's cleared.”
She hung up.
“Ashley?”
“Found behind the warehouse.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
Relief struck me, followed immediately by disgust at myself for feeling it.
This woman had watched my husband push me off a cliff.
She had discussed my baby's death.
And I was relieved she hadn't been murdered.
Dominic seemed to understand.
“Being glad she's alive doesn't forgive what she did.”
I looked at him.
“I hate when you say useful things.”
“People tell me that often.”
At the hospital, Ashley asked for me.
Reynolds said absolutely not.
I said yes.
Dominic didn't like it.
Neither did my doctor.
But two hours later, I stood outside Ashley's room.
Her face was bruised.
Her left arm was wrapped.
She looked smaller than I remembered.
When she saw me, she began shaking.
“You're alive.”
“Yes.”
She cried.
Not gracefully.
Not the polished tears she'd probably practiced for my funeral.
“I didn't know.”
I stared at her.
“You asked Michael if my baby would survive.”
“I know.”
“You stood on that mountain and left us.”
“I know.”
“You helped him.”
“I thought—”
“What?”
My voice remained quiet.
“You thought what, Ashley?”
She covered her face.
“I thought he'd scare you.”
I almost laughed.
“You helped arrange insurance fraud because you thought he was going to scare me?”
Her silence answered.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
The word barely existed.
I stepped backward.
“Then don't insult me by lying now.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
I turned.
Then she said something that stopped me.
“He's going to kill Dominic.”
I looked back.
Ashley wiped her face.
“Michael has been planning it since before the mountain.”
Dominic stepped into the doorway.
“How?”
Ashley stared at him.
“Hale told him Elena left you copies.”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
“Copies of what?”
“Everything.”
“What is everything?”
Ashley looked toward me.
“Proof that Claire's grandfather didn't die naturally.”
The room went silent.
My hands went cold.
“What?”
Ashley spoke faster.
“Victor said Claire's grandfather discovered someone had been stealing from his company. He was going to report it.”
“Who?”
She looked at Dominic.
“Your father.”
Dominic's face became unreadable.
My grandfather.
Dominic's father.
The two families had not simply known each other.
They had been tied together by something violent.
Ashley continued.
“Claire's mother found evidence. She gave it to Elena.”
I remembered Dominic saying my mother helped Elena escape.
Not from money.
From danger.
“Michael found out,” Ashley said. “He thought those documents could give him leverage over the trust administrators. Victor told him if he got them, he could challenge Dominic's position and control Claire's inheritance.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“Where is Michael?”
Ashley began crying again.
“I don't know.”
He said nothing.
“But he knows where the documents are.”
Dominic went still.
“Where?”
Ashley stared at him.
“Your sister's grave.”
That afternoon, Dominic and I drove toward the cemetery.
Agents surrounded us.
Snow had stopped, but the mountains remained white in the distance.
Elena Vale had been buried outside a tiny Colorado town.
Dominic hadn't visited in years.
“I should go alone,” he said.
“No.”
“This is family.”
“So is mine.”
He looked at me.
“Our families started this together.”
I tightened my coat.
“We finish it together.”
When we reached Elena's grave, someone had already dug beside the headstone.
The earth was fresh.
Dominic crouched.
A metal container lay open.
Empty.
Michael had arrived first.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone froze.
Reynolds motioned for silence.
I answered.
“Hello?”
For several seconds, nothing.
Then Michael's voice.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
My entire body went cold.
“Michael.”
Dominic's eyes hardened.
Michael chuckled softly.
“You really are difficult to kill.”
I pressed my hand against my belly.
“What do you want?”
“The man standing beside you knows.”
Dominic leaned closer to the phone.
“Try me.”
Michael laughed.
“Oh, I plan to.”
Then he said something that changed the entire game.
“Tomorrow night, Claire.”
A pause.
“Come to the house where we were married.”
Our wedding venue.
An old mountain estate outside Estes Park.
“Bring Dominic.”
“What if I don't?”
Michael's voice lost all humor.
“Then the next funeral won't be pretend.”
The call disconnected.
I looked at Dominic.
His face was calm.
Too calm.
“No,” I said.
He frowned.
“No what?”
“You're thinking about going without me.”
“I am.”
“Then stop.”
“Claire—”
“He wants both of us.”
“Yes.”
“So we'll give him both of us.”
Agent Reynolds stepped forward.
“Absolutely not.”
I looked at the woman who had spent three days telling me justice required patience.
“This man threw me off a mountain.”
My voice shook, but I didn't lower it.
“He tried to kill my child. He stood at my funeral and lied about loving me. I will not spend the rest of my life hiding while men decide how this ends.”
Dominic stared at me.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then he asked:
“What exactly are you suggesting?”
I looked at Elena's open grave.
Then back at him.
“We let Michael believe he's finally getting everything he wants.”
“And then?”
“For once…”
I thought about my husband standing above the cliff.
Watching me disappear.
“For once, I'm the trap.”
---