Chapter 6 – THE LAWYER’S SECRET

The flashing red and blue lights of the ambulances illuminated the alleyway outside the gala hall.

Paramedics had stabilized Camille and rushed her to Chicago General. Arthur was in handcuffs, sitting in the back of a squad car, refusing to speak.

Jonathan stood near the ambulance doors, his hands still stained with his sister’s blood. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were sharper than I’d ever seen them.

I walked over to him, holding the charred envelope and the half-burned photograph Maya had found in the ashes.

“Jonathan,” I said quietly. “We need to talk.”

He looked at the photograph. He frowned, taking it from my hand. “That’s Arthur. And… is that Maya’s mother?”

“My sister, Sarah,” I confirmed, my chest tightening. “Arthur told us your mother killed Sarah. But look at the date stamp on the bottom of the photo.”

Jonathan squinted at the faded numbers in the corner. “1997. But… Dad didn’t meet your sister until 2002.”

“Exactly,” I said, the horrific puzzle finally snapping into place. “Your father didn’t seek out a secret life. Arthur introduced them.”

Jonathan’s face hardened. “Why would my father’s lawyer introduce him to a woman?”

“Because Arthur was already married to her,” a small voice said.

We both turned. Maya was standing behind us, holding a small leather journal. She had taken it from the red cello case before the police confiscated the money.

“What did you say, sweetheart?” I asked, kneeling down to her eye level.

Maya opened the journal. The handwriting was neat and precise. “This was my mother’s diary. The orphanage gave it to me when I turned ten. I couldn’t read the cursive very well, but I understood the names.”

She pointed to a passage near the center of the book.

Arthur says the Pierce fortune is too large for one man to control. He says if I make the billionaire fall in love with me, we can drain the accounts from the inside. He promises we will be rich together.

My blood ran cold.

My sister hadn’t been an innocent victim in a tragic romance. She had been a grifter. And Arthur Pendelton had been her partner.

“Arthur set up the affair,” Jonathan realized, anger radiating from his voice. “He used your sister to blackmail my father. When my father died, Arthur kept draining the foundation, pretending it was hush money for the mistress.”

“But Sarah got greedy,” I whispered, finishing the thought. “She wanted more. So Arthur killed her. And he killed your mother to cover his tracks.”

Jonathan rubbed his face. “And Maya? If Arthur and your sister were married…”

I looked at the twelve-year-old girl. Her dark eyes were wide and terrified.

“Maya isn’t your half-sister, Jonathan,” I said softly. “She’s Arthur’s daughter.”

Jonathan stared at the little girl. The heir to the Pierce foundation wasn’t a Pierce at all. She was the child of the man who had murdered his parents.

“Does Arthur know?” Jonathan asked.

I shook my head. “If he knew she was his biological daughter, he wouldn’t have tried to lock her in a burning building tonight. He thinks she belongs to your father.”

“Mr. Pierce?” A detective walked up, holding a clipboard. “We need the unburned documents you recovered from the incinerator. Evidence for the DA.”

Jonathan looked at the charred envelope in my hand. The fake will that left everything to Maya.

If Jonathan handed it over, the police would open it. The truth would come out. The media would tear Maya apart. A twelve-year-old girl would be labeled the bastard child of a murderer and a con artist, stripped of everything, and sent back to the orphanage.

But if he destroyed it, he kept his billions.

Jonathan looked at Maya. She was clutching her brass tuning fork, shivering in the cold night air.

He gently took the charred envelope from my hand. He looked at the detective.

“There was no will in the fire, Detective,” Jonathan said smoothly, slipping the envelope into his inside jacket pocket. “Only old charity receipts.”

The detective nodded and walked away.

I stared at Jonathan in shock. “What are you doing?”

Jonathan knelt in front of Maya. He didn’t look at her with pity or anger. He looked at her with kindness.

“You didn’t choose your parents, Maya,” Jonathan said softly. “And you didn’t choose this mess. But you were brave tonight. You saved my life.”

He pulled the envelope from his jacket and handed it to me.

“Take it to my private lawyer tomorrow morning, Eleanor. Execute the terms. The foundation belongs to Maya.”

Maya burst into tears, wrapping her small arms around Jonathan’s neck. He hugged her back tightly.

It was a moment of pure grace.

But as I put the envelope in my bag, my phone buzzed in my apron pocket.

It was a text message from an unknown number.

You think Arthur was the mastermind, Eleanor? Ask Jonathan what happened in the blackout of 1998.

Share