Martin Reeves arrived at the estate shortly after eight the next morning, carrying a document case and an expression that told me he had not slept much. Arthur was already in his study. A cup of coffee sat untouched beside his chair, and the previous day's notes lay arranged in precise stacks across his desk. I had spent most of the night listening to the rain and replaying Chloe's warning in my head. Whatever the missing records contained, someone had gone to considerable trouble to keep them away from Arthur.
Martin placed a printed registry report in front of us. The former financial manager connected to the disputed transactions was Peter Caldwell, and the storage facility he had used was located in an industrial district about forty minutes from the estate. According to the available records, Caldwell had rented several units under the name of a consulting business that no longer appeared to operate. The lease agreements were old, but at least one unit had remained active after his departure from the Sterling organization.
"Can we get access today?" Arthur asked.
"We can request it," Martin replied. "But we should not assume that the facility will simply hand over private records. We need to establish the lawful basis for accessing anything that belongs to you or your companies."
Arthur nodded. "Then establish it."
Martin explained that the immediate priority was preservation. If the unit contained business records belonging to the Sterling companies, the appropriate legal process could secure them before anyone removed or destroyed them. He had already contacted the facility's management, which confirmed that a unit existed under the old business name. The manager would not disclose its contents, but he had agreed to preserve the lease file and any related access records while Martin arranged the necessary paperwork.
I watched Arthur read the report. He seemed less interested in the practical difficulties than in the dates. The storage agreement had begun several months before his son's death and continued through the period when the pension transfers had accelerated. The timing connected three things that had previously seemed separate: the disputed property deed, the payments to the outside company, and the missing originals.
"Did my son know about this unit?" Arthur asked.
"We don't know," Martin said.
Arthur rubbed his forehead. "Peter handled a great deal of the paperwork for him. I assumed they had proper oversight."
"You had reason to trust him," Martin replied. "That does not establish what happened afterward."
I looked at the registry report again. "If the records were stored there before your son died, someone may have kept them because they expected to need them later."
"Or because they were never properly archived," Martin said. "We should avoid deciding what the documents mean before we see them."
His caution was sensible, but I couldn't shake the feeling that the missing records had become more than an administrative problem. Somebody had known where they were. Somebody might still know. And if those records could establish who authorized the disputed transfers, they could also reveal who had been benefiting from them.
Before Martin left, Arthur instructed him to proceed with the lawful steps needed to preserve the records. He also asked for a complete list of everyone who had been authorized to access the estate's financial files during the relevant period. Martin agreed, then closed his case and headed for the door.
"One more thing," he said. "I recommend that you do not discuss the storage unit with family members until access has been secured."
Arthur gave a humorless smile. "You needn't worry about my daughter. She has made it clear that she prefers I stop asking questions."
Martin looked at me briefly, then returned his attention to Arthur. "That makes discretion more important, not less."
After he left, I found Arthur standing beside the study window, watching a gardener move slowly between the flower beds. He looked exhausted. His hand rested against the windowsill, and for a moment I wondered whether the strain of the investigation was affecting his heart.
"Should you be doing all this yourself?" I asked.
"I've spent years letting other people tell me what was happening to my own businesses. That is how I ended up here."
"You could delegate the work without carrying every worry personally."
"I can delegate the work. I cannot delegate the responsibility."
I understood what he meant, though I suspected that his determination was partly driven by guilt. He had trusted his son, his financial advisers, and the people who managed the family businesses. Now he was discovering that his trust might have been used against him.
I offered to organize the dates and transactions into a single timeline for Martin. Arthur agreed, and we spent the morning comparing the pension records with the property documents. Every time I found an inconsistency, I marked it in the notebook rather than trying to explain it. There were too many gaps to justify conclusions, but the sequence was becoming clearer.
The first questionable transfer had occurred shortly after Arthur's hospitalization. A second followed the death of his son. Then the ownership of one property changed, although the original valuation had never been completed. Months later, money moved through the outside company connected to Peter Caldwell. The records did not yet prove that the transactions were coordinated, but they shared enough names and dates to deserve careful scrutiny.
At lunchtime, a housekeeper informed us that Eleanor had arrived and wanted to speak with Arthur. He asked her to wait in the drawing room while he finished reviewing the timeline. I could hear her voice from the corridor, clipped and controlled, asking whether he intended to keep her waiting all afternoon.
When we finally entered, Eleanor was standing beside the fireplace with her handbag on the table. She looked from Arthur to me and then to the papers in his hand.
"I understand you're planning to visit some storage facility," she said.
Arthur did not sit down. "Who told you that?"
"Martin contacted the family office about old records. Naturally, people are asking questions."
"The family office is not entitled to control every document I choose to investigate."
"Nobody is suggesting that." She glanced at me. "But you have to understand how this appears. You have married someone you barely knew, and now she is helping you reopen business matters that were settled years ago."
"They were not settled," I said. "Some of the original records are missing."
Eleanor's eyes narrowed. "You don't know enough about the business to make that judgment."
"That's why I'm reading the documents."
"Reading documents is not the same as understanding the consequences."
"Then help us understand them."
For a moment, Eleanor seemed unable to decide whether to answer or dismiss me. She turned back to Arthur.
"You are putting everything at risk. The employees, the properties, the family foundation. If you start a public dispute over old paperwork, the damage could be impossible to reverse."
"Then it should be easy to resolve the questions privately," Arthur replied. "Tell me why a company linked to Peter Caldwell appears in my pension records."
Eleanor's face tightened.
"I have already told you that I don't manage those accounts."
"You have also said that you want me to stop investigating them."
"Because I know how these things work."
"Then you know why I need answers."
She picked up her handbag. "I hope you are prepared for what happens when you discover that your suspicions are wrong."
Arthur's voice remained calm. "If I'm wrong, I will say so."
"And if you're right?"
He looked directly at her. "Then the truth will matter more than the discomfort it causes."
Eleanor left without another word.
I watched the door close behind her. I had expected anger, perhaps even an outright denial, but her reaction had been more complicated. She seemed frightened of the investigation itself, not merely offended by the suspicion surrounding her.
"She knows something," I said.
"Yes," Arthur replied. "But knowing something is not the same as being responsible for it."
He returned to his desk and began making notes. I wanted to ask whether he still believed his daughter could be innocent, but I understood that he needed to leave room for that possibility. He had spent years living with the consequences of family loyalty. He would not repair the damage by replacing one unsupported assumption with another.
Later that afternoon, Martin telephoned. The facility had preserved the relevant lease records, and he had submitted the documents needed to establish access to business records that might belong to the Sterling companies. The process would take time, but there was no indication that the material had been removed.
Arthur thanked him and ended the call.
For the first time that day, he allowed himself to sit back in his chair.
"At least we know the records haven't vanished completely," I said.
"We know the facility has preserved what it has. That is a beginning."
He looked at the timeline I had prepared.
"You have a good eye for inconsistencies."
"I've had a lot of practice checking bills I couldn't afford to pay twice."
Arthur gave a faint smile. "That may prove more useful than you think."
His words should have comforted me. Instead, they reminded me how far I had traveled from the simple life I once wanted. I had imagined security as a locked door between myself and financial trouble. Now I was helping my husband open doors that other people might desperately want to keep closed.
That evening, Chloe sent me a message for the first time since our argument in the sitting room. It contained only one sentence.
Please tell me you haven't gone to the storage facility.
I read it twice before replying.
I haven't. Why?
The typing indicator appeared, disappeared, and appeared again. Eventually, her response arrived.
Because there are things about my father and Peter Caldwell that Grandfather never knew.
I stared at the screen until it dimmed in my hand.
Before I could ask what she meant, another message appeared.
And if you find the records, you need to understand why they were kept.
Click here to continue reading: PART 6: Chloe Finally Admitted Her Father Had Kept a Secret Account, but the Reason She Had Stayed Silent Was Worse Than I Expected
My Best Friend Watched Me Marry Her Grandfather, But Neither of Us Understood What His Proposal Would Cost
Part 5 of 20
