Gregory returned twenty minutes later.
He looked unsettled.
“Cole Advisory Group was hired by your grandfather.”
“Why?”
“To conduct a private investigation.”
“Into what?”
Gregory looked at my father.
“Your grandfather's concern was that someone was attempting to obtain confidential information about the trust.”
I felt a chill.
“When did the investigation begin?”
“Three months before his death.”
“Did it continue afterward?”
“Yes.”
“Who received the final report?”
Gregory hesitated.
“Your father.”
I looked at my father.
“You had the report?”
“I did.”
“Where is it?”
“I never saw the complete version.”
“Why not?”
“Because your grandfather's attorney sealed it.”
“Then how did you know what was in it?”
“My father told me enough before he died.”
Elena took the archive box.
“We need to locate the sealed copy.”
My father nodded.
“It may still be with the estate attorney.”
We contacted the attorney's office.
The response came quickly.
The file existed.
But there was a problem.
It had been removed from storage three years earlier.
“By whom?” Elena asked.
The clerk checked the records.
“Authorized request from Simone Caldwell.”
I stared.
“I never requested it.”
Elena frowned.
“Was there documentation?”
“Yes.”
“What documentation?”
“A power-of-attorney authorization.”
My stomach turned.
“Roland?”
The clerk hesitated.
“We can't confirm that without reviewing the archived authorization.”
I ended the call.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then I said:
“Someone used my identity before Wren was born.”
Elena nodded.
“And possibly before.”
I remembered Roland's admission.
The power of attorney.
The loan.
The trust.
But this was different.
Someone had used my name to retrieve a sealed investigation.
“Find out when it was removed.”
Gregory made another call.
While he worked, my father opened the old archive.
“There is something I never told you.”
I looked at him.
“What now?”
“Your grandfather had a second reason for creating the emergency protections.”
“What?”
“He was afraid someone would try to make you believe the trust was your husband's.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“Because once people believe they have ownership, they start behaving as though they do.”
I thought about Roland.
His questions.
His assumptions.
His anger when I hesitated over documents.
“He was preparing for this.”
“Yes.”
“Did he know Roland?”
“No.”
“Then why did he anticipate someone like him?”
“Because your grandfather understood money.”
My father looked at the documents.
“And he understood people who desperately needed it.”
The phone rang.
Gregory answered.
Then his expression changed.
“The authorization was submitted twenty-one months ago.”
I calculated.
“That was after Roland learned about the trust.”
“Yes.”
“Who signed it?”
“Electronic authorization.”
“From my account?”
“Yes.”
I felt sick.
“Can you identify the device?”
“We're checking.”
Elena looked at me.
“Don't assume Roland did it.”
“I know.”
That distinction had become essential.
We needed evidence.
Not suspicion.
Two hours later, the digital records arrived.
The authorization had been submitted from a laptop registered to Roland's company.
My heart sank.
“That proves it.”
Elena shook her head.
“It proves the device was used. Not who used it.”
“Who had access?”
“Roland.”
“Faye?”
“Possibly.”
“His mother?”
“Unlikely.”
“Victor?”
“Possibly.”
I looked at the date.
“Where was Roland that day?”
Gregory checked.
“At a business conference.”
“Where?”
“Three states away.”
That complicated everything.
“Then who used his laptop?”
“We don't know.”
The investigation report was still missing.
But we had another lead.
Adrian Cole.
His company had closed years ago.
Yet one former employee still lived nearby.
Her name was Mara Ellis.
We found her that evening.
She agreed to speak with us.
“I remember the Caldwell investigation,” she said.
“What did Adrian discover?”
Mara looked uncomfortable.
“He believed someone was collecting information about Simone.”
“Who?”
“We never identified them.”
“Did your grandfather know?”
“Yes.”
“Did he suspect anyone?”
Mara paused.
“He suspected the information was being obtained through someone close to the family.”
I felt my pulse rise.
“Who?”
“He never named them.”
“What did Adrian do?”
“He prepared a report.”
“Where is it?”
“Adrian kept a copy.”
“Where is he now?”
Mara looked at me.
“He died.”
The room went quiet.
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
Elena asked, “Was it investigated?”
“Yes.”
“Suspicious?”
Mara shook her head.
“No evidence of that.”
Again, there was no convenient villain.
Only a chain of unresolved events.
Mara opened an old drawer.
“There is something I kept.”
She removed a photograph.
It showed Adrian with my grandfather.
Behind them stood a younger Victor Hale.
I stared.
“Victor worked with Adrian.”
“Yes.”
“How closely?”
“Very.”
“Why didn't Victor ever tell Roland?”
“I don't know.”
Mara handed me another photograph.
This one showed a meeting room.
Victor was there.
Adrian was there.
And another person stood beside them.
I recognized him.
My father.
I looked at him.
“You were there.”
My father stared at the photograph.
“I don't remember this meeting.”
Mara looked surprised.
“It was a private meeting.”
“When?”
“Two months before your grandfather died.”
My father sat down.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“Why?”
“Because I was overseas.”
Mara shook her head.
“No.”
She pointed to the date.
“You were here.”
I looked at my father.
He looked genuinely confused.
Then Elena noticed something.
“Wait.”
She pointed to the photograph.
The man beside my father wasn't actually him.
The angle had fooled us.
It was someone else.
Someone who looked remarkably similar from behind.
Mara identified him.
“Adrian's associate.”
“Name?”
“Samuel Reed.”
I searched my memory.
Nothing.
“Who was he?”
“He handled sensitive financial research.”
“Where is he now?”
Mara shook her head.
“Disappeared.”
“When?”
“Shortly after your grandfather died.”
The pieces were multiplying.
Victor.
Adrian.
Samuel.
The family office.
The missing report.
The stolen trust records.
And Roland's debt.
Then my phone rang.
This time it wasn't Roland.
It was Faye.
Her voice was shaking.
“Simone, you need to come here.”
“Where?”
“My house.”
“Why?”
“I found something in Roland's old things.”
“What?”
“I think it explains why he was so desperate.”
“Tell me.”
“I can't over the phone.”
I hesitated.
“I'm coming.”
Before leaving, Elena stopped me.
“Take me with you.”
I nodded.
Whatever Faye had found, I suspected it would not be another piece of the past.
It would be something Roland had hidden in the present.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: Faye Found a File Roland Had Hidden for Months, and Its First Page Suggested His Desperation Began With a Secret I Had Never Heard
Six Days Into Motherhood, I Thought My Husband Was Giving Me Space—Until One Small Detail Made Me Question Everything About His Disappearance
Part 10 of 20
