CHAPTER 8 — THE HOSTAGE LIE
The detective immediately began coordinating with city police.
My father called Ashcroft headquarters.
No one answered at the executive security desk.
Grant had worked with Ashcroft’s outsourced cybersecurity team during a failed merger proposal. He knew the building’s emergency systems.
“He’s locked them out,” the hotel manager said.
I watched Dominic’s video again.
Marissa sat behind him with her wrists bound.
Her eyes looked terrified.
But something felt wrong.
“Pause it,” I said.
The attorney froze the image.
“Zoom in on her hands.”
The image sharpened.
The cord around Marissa’s wrists was loose.
Too loose.
My father noticed it too.
“She could pull free.”
I studied her face.
She was frightened, but she wasn’t looking at Dominic.
She was looking toward the right side of the room.
Someone else was there.
Grant.
“It’s staged,” I said. “They want me in the building.”
The detective agreed.
“They may need your card.”
The black card could open the secure trust archive.
Dominic had the folder, but perhaps it contained only copies.
To retrieve the sealed originals, he needed me.
My father ordered his private security team to surround headquarters.
I shook my head.
“If they see a tactical team, they might destroy the files.”
“You are not going inside.”
“I don’t need to.”
I turned toward the hotel manager.
“Can my card access Ashcroft systems remotely?”
“Through an executive terminal.”
“There’s one in this hotel?”
His eyes moved toward the private business center upstairs.
Ten minutes later, I sat before a secured screen while police monitored every connection.
I inserted my card.
A list of Ashcroft properties appeared.
I selected headquarters.
The system requested voice authorization.
“Vivienne Ashcroft. Trustee authorization seven.”
The building schematic opened.
Dominic and Grant had disabled the main cameras.
But they had missed the environmental sensors.
Motion detectors showed three people in the executive archive.
Dominic.
Grant.
Marissa.
Another sensor showed a fourth person hiding in the adjacent records room.
“Who is that?” I asked.
My father’s face darkened.
“Only three employees have independent access to that room.”
The system displayed the ID of the person who had entered.
SAMUEL ASHCROFT
My uncle.
My father’s younger brother.
He had served on the Ashcroft board for twenty-two years.
He had also spent years insisting I was too inexperienced to control the company.
The truth became clear.
Grant and Dominic had not invented the plan.
Someone inside my own family had helped them.
My phone rang again.
This time, the caller was Uncle Samuel.
“Vivienne,” he said softly, “your father has lied to you for years.”
I looked at my father.
Samuel continued.
May you like
“Come to headquarters, and I’ll show you who really caused Nicholas’s death.”
End of Chapter 8…
