Part 7

"He knew people were being harmed. He knew signatures were being forged. He knew money was being stolen."

"Then why stay?"

"Fear. Money. Habit. Maybe all three."

She looked at me sadly.

"Your father has spent decades telling himself he had no choice."

I remembered his voice on the phone.

"There's something about that apartment you don't understand."

"Your sister was never supposed to find out who really arranged this."

I suddenly understood something.

Dad had been afraid.

Not of me.

Not of the law.

Of my mother.

The woman who seemed fragile and sentimental had apparently been directing everyone around her for years.

Including him.

Then Catherine said quietly, "Marissa, there's another reason your mother wanted your apartment."

My pulse quickened.

"What reason?"

"She believed something was stored there."

"The black equipment case?"

Catherine nodded.

"Your mother thought it contained the identity records associated with my relocation."

I frowned.

"But the case doesn't contain that information."

"I know."

"Then why was she so convinced?"

Catherine's face tightened.

"Because Daniel told her it did."

The pieces suddenly aligned.

Daniel had used his knowledge of my professional arrangements to feed my mother a lie.

He had convinced her that accessing my office could expose Charlotte Sloane's movements.

But he'd had another objective.

**He wanted a compromised security scene that could be used to remove me from the operation and create an opportunity to interfere with the witness transfer.**

My mother wanted information.

Daniel wanted access.

My father wanted the financial scheme protected.

And Paige had been the expendable person sent to create the chaos.

***

By the end of the week, investigators had enough information to seek coordinated action against several people connected to the fraud network.

I returned to Virginia under arrangements approved by my supervisors.

I expected relief when my plane landed at Dulles.

Instead, I felt dread.

I was coming home to a family that no longer existed in the form I'd believed.

Evelyn met me at the airport.

She drove while I watched familiar highways slide past the windows.

"You don't have to go straight to the apartment," she said.

"I want to."

"Are you sure?"

"No."

She gave a brief, understanding smile.

"Fair enough."

When we reached the building, the security supervisor greeted me in the lobby.

He looked genuinely embarrassed.

"Ms. Keane, I'm sorry about everything."

"You followed the procedures once you knew what happened."

"We've updated access credentials and reviewed the contractor accounts."

"Thank you."

The elevator carried me to the twenty-fourth floor.

When I stepped into my apartment, the silence felt unnatural.

The luggage was gone.

The damaged keypad had been secured.

The furniture had been returned to its original position.

Yet everything felt different.

I stood in the living room and stared at the gray sofa.

A faint indentation remained in one cushion.

Lily had sat there holding Owen's hand.

I walked to my bedroom.

Paige's handbag was gone.

My bedspread had been replaced.

But I could still picture her smiling.

"My room."

For days, that memory had filled me with anger.

Now it filled me with sorrow.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

And cried.

Not elegantly.

Not quietly.

I cried like a woman who had been holding herself together for too long.

I cried for the home I'd nearly lost.

For the sister I'd misunderstood.

For the children who had been frightened.

For the father who had chosen dishonesty.

For the mother whose love had always come with conditions.

And for the person I had once been.

The daughter who kept trying to earn approval from people who viewed her success as something to exploit.

When I finally stopped, I walked toward my office.

The reinforced door was intact.

The damaged outer cover had been replaced after the scene was documented and released.

I entered my authorized code.

The lock clicked.

Inside, everything was exactly where it belonged.

My desk.

My books.

My approved equipment.

The black case.

I placed my hand on its lid.

All that destruction.

All that planning.

All that betrayal.

For something my mother had only believed was inside.

I opened the case.

The equipment was untouched.

Nothing had been taken.

I closed it and whispered:

**"You didn't get anything."**

But I was wrong.

They had taken something.

They had taken my belief that my family was safe.

And I wasn't sure I would ever get it back.

***

The following morning, Evelyn called.

"Marissa, you need to come to my office."

Something in her voice made my stomach tighten.

"What's happened?"

"Your father has requested a meeting."

I closed my eyes.

"No."

"He says he has evidence."

"Then he can give it to investigators."

"He has. But he also asked that you hear what he wants to say."

I stared at the wall.

"Why?"

"Because he believes your mother is preparing to blame you for part of the fraud."

I went cold.

"How?"

"That's what we're trying to establish."

An hour later, I sat across from Evelyn.

My father appeared through a recorded, legally supervised statement rather than an informal private conversation.

He looked twenty years older.

His shoulders sagged.

His face was gray.

For the first time in my life, he seemed small.

"Marissa," he said.

I didn't answer.

He swallowed.

"I'm sorry."

I stared at him.

"You're sorry?"

His eyes filled.

"I know it doesn't mean much."

"You forged my signature."

"Yes."

"You helped someone enter my home."

"Yes."

"You threatened Paige with losing her children."

He closed his eyes.

"I did."

"And you knew my office was being targeted."

He nodded.

I felt my hands curl into fists.

"Then what could you possibly have to say to me?"

He looked directly into the camera.

"Your mother has something planned."

I said nothing.

He continued.

"She knows the property transfer is collapsing. She knows Daniel Mercer has been exposed. And she knows Catherine is alive."

My breath caught.

"How?"

"Mercer warned her."

"Where is Mom?"

"I don't know."

"You're lying."

He shook his head.

"Not this time."

He leaned closer.

"Marissa, there's something you should understand. Your mother didn't simply want your home."

"I know. She wanted my office."

"That's part of it."

He swallowed.

"She also wanted to make you look compromised."

I stared.

"Why?"

"Because you were becoming a problem."

"To her business?"

"To everything."

His voice broke.

"She believes if she can destroy your credibility, people will doubt what Catherine says. They'll question whether the investigation is being driven by a daughter seeking revenge."

I sat motionless.

My father wiped his eyes.

"She has prepared evidence to make it appear that you were secretly involved in the property transactions."

"What evidence?"

"Financial records. Messages. Documents with your signature."

I felt sick.

"More forgeries."

He nodded.

"She planned to use your identity as protection."

I couldn't believe it.

After everything I'd sacrificed to build a career, my mother was prepared to destroy it to save herself.

Then Dad whispered:

**"Marissa, she hasn't finished."**

***

The warning was taken seriously.

I supplied investigators with everything I knew about my finances, property records, and communications.