Chapter 7 - The Third Sister
The woman in the doorway had my mother’s face.
Again.
Rebecca backed into the desk.
“No.”
The woman smiled.
“You always were terrible at reunions.”
Jonathan moved in front of me.
Vincent moved in front of everyone.
“Who are you?”
She looked at him without fear.
“Vincent Moretti.”
“You know my name.”
“I knew Samuel better.”
Vincent’s face hardened.
“Everybody seems to have known my brother tonight.”
“Samuel knew everybody who mattered.”
Rebecca found her voice.
“Catherine.”
There it was.
A name.
The woman’s smile widened.
“Finally.”
I looked from her to Rebecca.
“Catherine?”
Rebecca said nothing.
“Your sister?”
“Yes.”
“You told me my mother had an identical twin.”
“She did.”
“You.”
“Yes.”
I pointed toward Catherine.
“Then what is she?”
Catherine answered.
“The sister everyone erased.”
My mother had not been a twin.
She had been one of three.
Triplets.
I almost laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because reality had become so ridiculous that laughter felt safer than screaming.
“How many dead relatives are going to walk into my house tonight?”
Catherine tilted her head.
“You’re taking this remarkably well.”
“No. I’m postponing the breakdown.”
Her smile disappeared.
“You really are Lillian’s daughter.”
Rebecca stepped toward her.
“How did you get inside?”
“The same way I always did.”
My eyes moved toward the hidden panel.
Catherine noticed.
“This house belonged to Charles before it belonged to any of you. He built passages everywhere.”
Jonathan said, “You were in Room 317.”
Catherine looked at him.
“Sometimes.”
Vanessa whispered, “The photograph.”
I remembered the woman entering the room.
My face.
My mother’s face.
Rebecca’s face.
Catherine’s face.
“Was that you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To keep Marcus believing Rebecca was still working with him.”
Rebecca’s face twisted.
“You used my identity?”
“You abandoned it.”
“I went into hiding.”
“Semantics.”
Vincent took one step toward Catherine.
“Where is Marcus?”
She looked amused.
“You still think Marcus is the center of this.”
“Isn’t he?”
“No.”
“Then who is?”
Her eyes landed on me.
“Amelia is.”
I felt cold.
“I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“Neither did Lillian.”
“Don’t use my mother to manipulate me.”
For the first time, Catherine’s confidence slipped.
“I loved your mother.”
Rebecca laughed bitterly.
“You betrayed her.”
Catherine turned.
“I saved Amelia.”
“You helped Charles.”
“I survived Charles.”
“You stood beside him.”
“Because standing beside monsters is sometimes how you learn where they hide the bodies.”
Rebecca’s voice rose.
“Lillian died!”
“And Amelia lived!”
Silence.
Catherine looked at me.
“That was the bargain.”
I stared at her.
“What bargain?”
She looked toward the laptop.
The recovered audio waited on screen.
“Charles discovered Lillian had copied the archive.”
“I know.”
“He wanted the copy.”
“I know that too.”
“He threatened you.”
My mouth went dry.
“You were a baby.”
Catherine continued.
“He told Lillian that if she released one page, you would disappear.”
Jonathan closed his eyes.
“You knew?”
Catherine looked at him.
“I was there.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you were already working with Marcus, and Marcus wanted the archive exposed regardless of the cost.”
Jonathan stepped toward her.
“That’s a lie.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Marcus told you sacrifice was unavoidable.”
“He never meant Amelia.”
“He meant anyone.”
Vincent watched them.
“Marcus wanted revenge for the warehouse.”
Catherine nodded.
“And Charles knew it.”
Daniel turned from the laptop.
“So Charles used Amelia as leverage.”
“Yes.”
“And Catherine negotiated?”
Rebecca’s laugh was hollow.
“She calls it negotiating.”
Catherine ignored her.
“I told Charles I could recover Lillian’s copy.”
“In exchange for me?”
“Yes.”
“What did you promise?”
“To join him.”
I stared at her.
“You worked for my grandfather.”
“For seventeen years.”
Rebecca whispered, “And became worse than he was.”
Catherine’s eyes flashed.
“I kept Amelia invisible.”
“You watched her.”
“I protected her.”
“You put cameras in her house!”
“I didn’t.”
Everyone stopped.
I looked at Catherine.
“Then who did?”
“I came here tonight because I discovered them.”
Tyler spoke from behind us.
“Marcus.”
Catherine shook her head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
She looked at Tyler.
“You.”
Tyler stared.
“What?”
My stomach dropped.
“No,” he said immediately.
Catherine reached inside her coat.
Vincent’s hand moved.
“Slowly.”
She removed a folded document.
She tossed it onto the desk.
Daniel opened it.
An invoice.
Blackridge Protective Services.
Executive residential monitoring.
Approved by Tyler Hart.
I stared at my husband.
He looked at the page.
“I never signed this.”
Daniel examined the signature.
“It’s your electronic authorization.”
“It was forged.”
“Could it be?” I asked.
Daniel hesitated.
“Yes.”
Tyler looked at me.
“Amelia, I swear.”
I wanted to believe nothing he said anymore.
That was the problem.
Some of his lies were beginning to sit beside truths.
Vanessa moved closer to the document.
“I know that invoice.”
Everyone looked at her.
“Why?”
“I saw it at Tyler’s apartment.”
Tyler stared.
“When?”
“Months ago.”
“You went through my files?”
“You were sleeping with another woman while telling me your marriage was over. Apparently privacy wasn’t our strongest value.”
Despite everything, Daniel almost smiled.
Vanessa pointed to the authorization code.
“That number.”
Daniel looked.
“What about it?”
“Tyler never used numbers like that.”
“How do you know?”
“I helped him organize expense reports twice.”
I looked at Tyler.
“You had your mistress doing company expenses?”
He winced.
“This is not the best moment to explain that.”
“There will never be a best moment.”
Daniel studied the code.
“It’s an administrator token.”
“Whose?”
He started typing.
The laptop was isolated, but the downloaded company records were still available.
He searched.
Then stopped.
“That token belonged to Eleanor Whitmore.”
My dead grandmother.
Again.
Rebecca whispered, “Impossible.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Her credentials were never deactivated.”
“Who had them?”
“That’s harder.”
Catherine answered.
“Marcus.”
Jonathan looked at her.
“How?”
“Eleanor gave them to him.”
“No.”
“She did.”
“Why would she trust Marcus?”
“She didn’t.”
Catherine looked at me.
“She wanted him to believe she did.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“Can one person in this family ever say exactly what happened without turning it into a puzzle?”
Catherine almost smiled.
“Eleanor gave Marcus controlled access. She wanted to track him.”
Daniel understood.
“A honeypot account.”
“Yes.”
“So if someone used Eleanor’s credentials…”
“It might be Marcus.”
“Or someone with access to his systems.”
Vincent looked at Catherine.
“You.”
“Possibly.”
Rebecca stepped forward.
“Stop playing with her.”
Catherine’s face hardened.
“I’m the only reason she reached thirty-four.”
“Lillian is the reason.”
“Lillian died.”
Rebecca slapped her.
The sound cracked through the room.
Catherine didn’t move.
A red mark appeared on her cheek.
Rebecca’s hand shook.
“You don’t get to say her name like that.”
Catherine slowly looked back at her.
For one second, I saw three sisters.
Not conspirators.
Not ghosts.
Three girls who had grown into women inside a family that had poisoned everything around them.
Catherine whispered, “I held her while she died.”
Rebecca’s anger disappeared.
Jonathan looked up.
“What?”
Catherine’s eyes filled.
“She didn’t die immediately.”
My heart stopped.
“What did you say?”
Catherine looked at me.
“Your mother survived the first attack.”
I couldn’t speak.
“She was conscious for eleven minutes.”
Jonathan staggered backward.
“You told me she died instantly.”
“I had to.”
“Why?”
“Because she made me promise.”
“To lie to me?”
“To get Amelia out.”
Jonathan’s voice broke.
“I could have seen her.”
“No. Charles was coming back.”
Rebecca covered her mouth.
Catherine continued.
“Lillian knew it.”
“What did she say?” I asked.
Catherine looked at me.
“She gave me one instruction.”
“What?”
“Make sure Amelia never becomes Charles.”
I felt tears finally come.
Not many.
One.
Then another.
I wiped them away.
“What else?”
“She told me where she hid the original archive.”
Vincent stepped forward.
“You know where it is.”
“I knew.”
“What does that mean?”
“It was moved.”
“By whom?”
“Samuel.”
Vincent stared.
“My brother?”
Catherine nodded.
“The night before the warehouse fire, Lillian gave Samuel a key.”
“To what?”
“A private vault.”
“Where?”
“She never told me.”
Vincent’s expression sharpened.
“But you know something.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Samuel left a message.”
“For whom?”
“You.”
Vincent stopped.
Catherine reached into her coat again.
This time she removed a small cassette tape.
Old.
Yellowed label.
VINCENT.
His name was handwritten.
Vincent stared at it.
“You’ve had that for thirty-two years?”
“No.”
“Where did you get it?”
“Marcus.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
Everything tightened again.
“You saw Marcus yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Room 317.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Why did he give you this?”
“He said the anniversary had to happen first.”
I looked at her.
“He planned Vanessa coming?”
“He planned everyone coming.”
Vanessa’s face went pale.
Catherine nodded toward Tyler.
“The affair made the invitation believable.”
I stared at my husband.
Vanessa stared too.
Catherine continued.
“Marcus knew Vanessa would confront Amelia if she believed Tyler had finally chosen her.”
Vanessa whispered, “He used me.”
“Yes.”
Tyler looked sick.
“And me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To put Amelia, Vincent, Tyler, and me in the same place.”
Rebecca asked, “Why you?”
Catherine’s expression changed.
“Because Marcus knew I would come if Amelia inherited.”
“Why?”
Catherine looked at me.
“Because I am the only person who can revoke the transfer.”
Daniel stood.
“You can reverse the succession?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Charles created an emergency trustee.”
“You?”
Catherine nodded.
I almost laughed again.
“So you can take all of this away from me?”
“The archive.”
“The company too?”
“No. Hart Meridian is yours.”
“Seventy-six percent?”
“Yes.”
Tyler sat down.
For a businessman who had spent years behaving as though Hart Meridian belonged to him, that number seemed physically painful.
I looked at Catherine.
“Then revoke the archive.”
Everyone went silent.
She stared at me.
“You don’t want to know what’s in it?”
“I want the truth.”
“That is the truth.”
“No. It’s leverage.”
I pointed toward the files.
“Secrets collected without consent. Threats. Blackmail. Lives turned into folders.”
Catherine watched me carefully.
“I don’t want power over people.”
Something softened in her face.
“Lillian would have said that.”
“Then revoke it.”
“I can.”
“Do it.”
“But first you need the original archive.”
“Why?”
“Because the transfer can only be revoked from the master system.”
“And Samuel hid it.”
“Yes.”
Vincent looked at the cassette.
“Then maybe he tells us where.”
Catherine handed him the tape.
Daniel found an old cassette player inside the hidden compartment.
Vincent inserted it.
Pressed play.
Static.
Then a young man’s voice.
Vincent closed his eyes.
Samuel.
“If you’re hearing this, something went wrong.”
Vincent gripped the edge of the desk.
“I found what Charles was building.”
Static.
“Marcus thinks exposing everything will destroy him.”
A pause.
“He’s wrong.”
Vincent opened his eyes.
“The archive has a failsafe.”
Daniel leaned closer.
Samuel continued.
“If anyone releases the files without the master key, copies automatically go to every person Charles collected information on.”
Catherine whispered, “Mutual destruction.”
Samuel’s voice continued.
“I moved the master archive.”
Static swallowed several words.
Then:
“Vincent, remember where Dad took us every Sunday after Mom died.”
Vincent frowned.
I looked at him.
“Where?”
He whispered, “St. Matthew’s.”
A church.
Samuel continued.
“Third row. Left side. Beneath—”
The tape snapped.
Vincent pulled it out.
“No.”
Daniel examined it.
“The tape is physically damaged.”
“Can you recover it?”
“Maybe.”
A sudden pounding came from the front door.
Everyone froze.
Vincent checked his phone.
“My men.”
Another pounding.
“Boss!”
Vincent relaxed slightly.
Then Catherine grabbed his arm.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
“Your men don’t call you Boss at the door.”
Vincent’s face changed.
The pounding stopped.
Silence.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I opened the message.
DO NOT GO TO ST. MATTHEW’S.
A second arrived.
SAMUEL LIED.
Vincent read over my shoulder.
“Marcus?”
A third message.
ASK CATHERINE WHO ACTUALLY LOCKED THE WAREHOUSE.
Every eye turned toward her.
Rebecca stepped backward.
Jonathan whispered, “Catherine?”
Catherine’s face went white.
Vincent stared at her.
“You said Charles changed the locks.”
“I said someone did.”
“Who?”
She didn’t answer.
“Who locked my brother inside?”
Her lips trembled.
Before she could speak, the front door crashed open.
Footsteps entered the hallway.
Several men.
Vincent pulled me behind him.
The study handle turned.
Catherine whispered, “It’s too late.”
The door opened.
Marcus Vale stepped inside.
He looked at Vincent.
Then at Catherine.
May you like
Then he smiled at me.
“Amelia, before you trust anyone in this room, you should know who really killed your mother.”
