Chapter 9 - Samuel Cross
Samuel Cross looked like a man who had spent years expecting someone to follow him.
He was sixty-three.
Gray hair.
Weathered face.
No wasted movement.
Daniel brought him into a secure conference room adjacent to my suite.
I stayed in bed while the others gathered around.
Cross placed an old leather briefcase on the table.
“I promised Charles Whitmore I would give this to Ethan when the time was right.”
Ethan stared at him.
“My father hired you?”
“For eleven months.”
“To investigate my mother?”
Cross nodded.
“Your father suspected Margaret was diverting money from family trusts.”
Karen covered her mouth.
“How much?”
“Initially, he thought two hundred thousand.”
Cross opened the briefcase.
“By the end, we estimated more than four million.”
Ethan looked stunned.
“Four million dollars?”
“Through shell companies, fake consulting contracts, inflated property expenses, and accounts controlled by people close to her.”
“Martin Vale?”
“One of them.”
Agent Park moved closer.
Cross handed her a drive.
“Charles planned to confront Margaret.”
“What happened?”
Cross looked at Ethan.
“He died three days before our scheduled meeting with a forensic accountant.”
No one moved.
I felt a chill across my arms.
“Are you suggesting Charles was murdered?”
Cross shook his head.
“I don’t suggest things without evidence.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying his death ended the investigation.”
“And Margaret benefited.”
“Yes.”
Ethan’s voice was barely audible.
“Why didn’t you come to me?”
“Your father gave me instructions.”
Cross pulled a sealed letter from the briefcase.
“He believed you were too dependent on your mother financially.”
Ethan flinched.
Cross did not soften it.
“He feared you would confront her before we had enough evidence.”
“When was I supposed to receive this?”
“When Margaret attempted to gain control of the next generation’s trust interest.”
Everyone looked toward Noah.
My son slept peacefully, unaware that an entire financial structure had been built around his birth.
Cross continued.
“Charles anticipated the possibility.”
“How?”
“Because Margaret had already discussed it.”
Karen began crying.
“What?”
Cross looked at her.
“Your mother wanted your father to change the trust so that any male heir would be raised under her supervision.”
“He refused.”
“He changed the trust specifically to prevent her from directly controlling the shares.”
Ethan stared at the letter.
“My father knew.”
“Yes.”
Cross pushed the envelope toward him.
Ethan opened it.
His hands shook as he read.
Then he stopped.
“What does it say?”
I asked.
He handed me the page.
Near the bottom, Charles had written one sentence.
If Margaret ever tries to separate Ethan from his child, follow the money first.
I looked at Cross.
“Why send the photograph?”
“To force Ethan to tell you about Vale.”
“You sent it?”
“Yes.”
“Why anonymously?”
Cross glanced at Daniel.
“Because I didn’t know who inside this hospital I could trust.”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed.
May you like
Cross leaned back.
“And you still shouldn’t.”
