Chapter 5 - THE DEAD MAN'S ACCOUNT
Daniel didn’t speak for several seconds.
His father had died four years earlier after a private plane crashed over the Atlantic.
There had been wreckage.
There had been an investigation.
There had even been a funeral.
But no body had ever been recovered.
“You told me he was dead.”
“I believed he was.”
“What changed?”
“Six months after the crash, I received a letter.”
Eleanor walked into the house.
Daniel followed.
She unlocked a drawer.
Inside was an envelope.
The handwriting belonged to Charles Whitmore.
Daniel recognized it instantly.
The letter contained only six words.
KEEP THE BOYS OUT OF THIS.
Daniel read it twice.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because your father had enemies.”
“What enemies?”
“Men he made money with.”
Daniel looked at her.
“What kind of money?”
Eleanor didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
Charles had built Whitmore Holdings from a small construction company into an international empire.
Daniel had always believed his father was ruthless.
He had never believed he was criminal.
Eleanor explained that after the crash, strange payments began appearing.
Accounts Charles supposedly closed became active again.
Shell companies moved money across Europe and the Caribbean.
Then Vanessa entered the picture.
“She contacted me eight months ago.”
Daniel stared at her.
“Vanessa?”
“She said your father was alive.”
“And you believed her?”
“She showed me a photograph.”
Eleanor opened her phone.
The picture showed an older man leaving a hotel in Lisbon.
The face was partially hidden.
But Daniel knew that walk.
That posture.
That silver hair.
His father.
“What did Vanessa want?”
“Access.”
“To what?”
“Your company.”
Daniel’s anger sharpened.
“You gave it to her?”
“No.”
“Then how did she get into our financial systems?”
Eleanor looked at him.
“I think Ethan helped her.”
Daniel stepped back.
Everything pointed toward his brother.
But Ethan had sounded terrified.
“They took him.”
Eleanor’s face tightened.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
A noise came from outside.
Glass shattered.
Daniel grabbed his mother and pulled her down.
A bullet punched through the window.
Tea exploded across the wall.
“Down!”
Another shot struck the cabinet.
Daniel dragged Eleanor behind the stone fireplace.
Security alarms screamed.
Outside, tires squealed.
By the time guards reached the road, the shooter was gone.
But something had been thrown through the broken window.
A black phone.
It began ringing.
Daniel answered.
A distorted voice spoke.
“You have something that belongs to us.”
Daniel looked at Eleanor.
“What?”
“The copy.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Find it.”
“Where’s Ethan?”
A pause.
Then Daniel heard breathing.
“Danny?”
Ethan.
Daniel gripped the phone.
“Ethan!”
“Don’t give them anything.”
A violent sound followed.
Ethan screamed.
Then the distorted voice returned.
May you like
“You have twenty-four hours.”
The call ended.
