Part 5 : The Shadow Investor
The safe house was a sprawling, modern cabin hidden deep in the mountains, three hours outside the city. It belonged to Julian’s private firm. For the first few days, the silence was deafening, broken only by the crackle of the fireplace and Julian’s low voice on the phone as he traced Daniel’s movements.
I refused to cower. I spent hours at the wooden dining table, pouring over the financial documents Margaret securely emailed over. If Daniel had a shadow investor funding his legal team and bailing him out, I needed to know who it was.
"You're driving yourself crazy," Julian said one evening, setting a plate of warm food in front of me. He had taken over cooking duties, revealing a surprisingly domestic side to his rugged exterior.
"I have to find the link," I muttered, dragging a highlighter across a printed ledger. "Daniel’s assets were frozen. Evelyn is living in a shoebox. Victor is cooperating with the feds. Who paid the judge? Who posted the two-million-dollar bail?"
Julian pulled up a chair beside me, close enough that I could smell the woodsmoke and mint on him. "We traced the wire transfer to a shell corporation in the Caymans. The company is called Aethelgard Holdings."
I froze. The pen slipped from my fingers, rolling across the table.
"Amelia? Do you know that name?"
"Aethelgard..." I whispered, my blood running cold. "It’s not a company. It’s an estate. My father’s estate."
Before Daniel, I wasn't just a charity case. My father was a wealthy, reclusive industrialist who cut ties with me when I refused to marry the business partner of his choice. When he died, I was told he left everything to his new wife, my stepmother, Beatrice. I never contested it. I walked away with nothing, which was when Daniel swooped in, playing the role of my savior.
"Beatrice," I gasped, looking at Julian. "My stepmother is funding Daniel."
Julian’s fingers flew across his laptop keyboard. Within minutes, he bypassed firewalls I couldn't even comprehend. "Son of a bitch," he muttered. "She didn't just fund him. Look at these emails from five years ago. Before you even met Daniel."
I stared at the screen. It was an email chain between Daniel and Beatrice.
Beatrice: The girl is naive. Marry her, ensure she never contests the will, and when the time is right, eliminate the loose end. You get a percentage of the estate, and I get peace of mind.
The room spun. My entire marriage, the "accidental" meeting at the coffee shop, his sudden proposal—it wasn't a fairy tale turned nightmare. It was a hit job from the very beginning. Daniel never loved me. He was hired to handle me.
"He wasn't just an abusive husband," I said, my voice shaking with a rage so profound it burned away every ounce of my fear. "He was a mercenary."
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Julian gently placed his large, warm hand over mine. "We have the motive now, Amelia. We have the proof of a conspiracy to commit murder. But to nail Beatrice and put Daniel away for life, we need them to make a move. We need to set a trap."
I looked up into Julian’s eyes. "Then let’s give them some bait."
