I turned it off.
For years, newspapers had described my life using numbers. My inheritance. My company’s value. My charitable donations. Even my pregnancy announcement had been framed as the arrival of an heir.
Now my possible death was another market event.
“What does Richard inherit personally?” Lena asked.
Daniel opened the trust summary.
“Approximately twelve million dollars in liquid assets, the primary residence, and several jointly owned properties.”
“Enough for most people,” I said.
“But not what he expected,” Daniel replied.
I studied him.
“What do you mean?”
“Three months ago, Richard requested an informal valuation of your private shares.”
“How do you know?”
“The valuation firm contacted me after they noticed he lacked authorization.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did. I sent the report to Clara and asked her to place it in your confidential review folder.”
The room became quiet.
“I never saw it.”
Daniel’s eyes hardened.
“Then Clara intercepted it.”
Lena stood.
“We need to locate her.”
Daniel’s phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
“It’s the estate security director.”
He answered and listened.
“What time?” he asked.
His gaze shifted toward me.
“Send me the footage.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Someone entered your private office last night.”
“At home?”
“Yes.”
“Richard?”
“No. Clara.”
He turned the laptop toward us when the security video arrived.
The footage showed Clara walking through the dark hallway shortly after midnight. She used her employee access code, entered my office, and remained inside for eighteen minutes.
When she emerged, she carried a slim metal case.
I recognized it immediately.
The case contained the original handwritten codicil my father had added to his estate plan shortly before his death.
“What was in it?” Lena asked.
“A letter, several certificates, and a sealed file my father told me not to open until my child was born.”
Daniel frowned.
“Why was it at your house?”
“My father distrusted digital storage. He said some truths should remain on paper.”
“Did Richard know?”
“He knew a case existed. He did not know what it contained.”
“Clara did,” Daniel said.
I thought back to the day I brought it home. Clara had arranged the insurance documentation and entered the item into my private inventory.
“What did my father’s letter say?” Lena asked.
“That the sealed file concerned the original ownership of Hayes Technologies.”
Daniel went very still.
“Original ownership?”
“My father founded the company with another engineer, but the partnership dissolved before the first public investment. He never discussed the details.”
“Who was the partner?”
“I don’t know.”
Lena looked toward Daniel.
“Could the file affect control of the company?”
“Possibly.”
My phone rang.
Only four people had the number.
Lena checked the screen.
Unknown caller.
She answered without speaking.
Richard’s voice filled the room.
“Amelia?”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
Lena muted the call and looked at me.
“How does he have this number?”
“No one outside this room should,” Daniel said.
