Chapter 11 - The Conspiracy Before Brendan
Cassidy read the letter three times.
Thomas Price had discovered unexplained legal research inside Meridian nearly seven years earlier.
Long before Cassidy married Brendan.
Long before she became pregnant.
Long before Brendan had enough authority to steal anything significant.
Thomas believed someone was studying methods to separate Cassidy from voting control of the Hart Continuity Trust.
He had traced the research to an outside law firm.
Bellweather Family Services.
The same company Brendan later hired.
“This started before him.”
Cassidy whispered.
Margaret looked shaken.
“Brendan joined Meridian five years ago.”
“Then someone gave him an existing plan.”
Owen looked devastated.
“My father tried to warn Evelyn.”
Cassidy continued reading.
Thomas had suspected someone close to the Hart family.
But before he could identify the person, he suffered a fatal heart attack.
There was no evidence his death had been anything other than natural.
Cassidy refused to turn grief into conspiracy without proof.
But Thomas had hidden his research.
The black device contained fragments.
Invoices.
Meeting notes.
Names.
One name appeared repeatedly.
R. Vale.
Cassidy knew only one Vale connected to her grandmother.
Richard Vale.
Evelyn Hart’s former attorney.
He had retired twelve years ago.
He was also dead.
Margaret frowned.
“Richard drafted the original continuity trust.”
Cassidy looked at her.
“And Brendan had a forged copy.”
Owen shook his head.
“If Richard created a second template—”
“Someone could have been building this for years.”
Cassidy finished the letter.
At the bottom, Thomas had written one warning.
DO NOT ASSUME THE PERSON WHO BENEFITS MOST IS THE PERSON IN CONTROL.
Cassidy thought of Brendan.
He would benefit enormously from controlling the unborn child’s trust.
But Brendan was impulsive.
Arrogant.
Careless.
Could he truly have designed a seven-year succession operation?
Probably not.
Her phone rang.
Sloane.
Cassidy answered.
Sloane sounded terrified.
“Someone found me.”
“Where are you?”
“In the safe apartment.”
Cassidy immediately signaled security.
Sloane continued.
“There was an envelope under the door.”
“What was inside?”
“A photograph.”
“Of what?”
“You.”
Cassidy’s stomach tightened.
“When?”
“When you were a child.”
Silence followed.
Then Sloane spoke again.
“Cassidy, Brendan had a copy of this photograph.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Describe it.”
“You’re standing beside an older woman.”
“My grandmother?”
“I think so.”
Sloane’s voice dropped.
“And there’s a man behind you.”
Cassidy closed her eyes.
“Who?”
“I recognize him.”
“From where?”
“He came to Brendan’s apartment three times.”
Cassidy gripped the phone.
“Tell me his name.”
“I don’t know his name.”
“Then describe him.”
Sloane did.
Mid-sixties.
Silver hair.
Thin scar near his left eyebrow.
Always wore dark gloves.
Cassidy felt the blood leave her face.
She had not seen that man in twenty years.
But she remembered exactly who he was.
Her uncle.
May you like
Evelyn Hart’s estranged son.
The man everyone in Cassidy’s family believed had died overseas.
