Chapter 2 - WHAT IRENE HAD RECORDED
There were forty-seven files on the drive.
Videos.
Photographs.
Scanned documents.
Voice recordings.
The oldest file was dated almost four months earlier.
Two weeks before Irene told me she was pregnant.
I clicked it.
The screen showed our kitchen.
Irene had apparently placed her phone on the counter.
My mother was standing beside the island.
Her voice was calm.
That somehow made it worse.
“You need to understand how this family works.”
Irene answered cautiously.
“I thought I did.”
“No.”
Margaret smiled.
“You married into it.”
She placed a folder on the counter.
“You didn’t build it.”
Irene opened the folder.
“What is this?”
“A postnuptial agreement.”
I stopped the recording.
My heart was pounding.
I had never asked Irene to sign a postnuptial agreement.
I pressed play again.
Irene read several pages.
“This says I waive any claim involving Wentworth Holdings.”
“You don’t have a claim.”
“Then why do you need my signature?”
Margaret’s expression hardened.
“Because Austin becomes sentimental where you are concerned.”
The next recording was three days later.
Then another.
Then another.
My mother had been visiting our house whenever I traveled for business.
At first, she pressured Irene to sign documents.
Then the threats began.
Nothing dramatic enough for Irene to think she could easily prove a crime.
Just carefully chosen words.
Warnings about lawyers.
Warnings about custody.
Warnings that Irene would be blamed if anything happened to my reputation.
Carla appeared in several recordings.
Sometimes she stayed quiet.
Sometimes she actively helped.
In one video, Carla placed a pen in front of Irene.
“Just sign it.”
“No.”
“You’re making this harder than it has to be.”
“For whom?”
Carla glanced toward the camera without realizing it was recording.
“For all of us.”
The front door opened behind me.
Detective Elena Ramirez entered the study.
One of the officers had called her after seeing the documents in the suitcase.
She was in her forties, composed, direct, and not remotely impressed by my family name.
“Mr. Wentworth?”
“Yes.”
“Your wife has been transported to St. Joseph’s.”
My stomach tightened.
“Is she all right?”
“She’s receiving care.”
I stood.
“I need to go.”
“You will.”
She looked at the computer.
“But your wife told the responding paramedic that the files in this house were important.”
I nodded toward the screen.
“She was documenting them.”
Ramirez pulled on gloves and examined the flash drive.
“Don’t open anything else.”
I stepped away.
She studied the open suitcase.
“What does Wentworth Holdings control?”
“Commercial real estate, logistics, and several private investment companies.”
“How much?”
I hesitated.
“Enough that this isn’t about jewelry from a safe.”
She nodded.
“That was my assumption.”
I told her what Irene had written.
Tomorrow.
Something was supposed to happen tomorrow.
Ramirez turned toward me.
“Who runs your company while you travel?”
“My chief financial officer and our board.”
“Who has authority to sign in your absence?”
“My mother has limited authority over one family trust.”
Ramirez stared at me.
“Limited how?”
“She cannot sell assets or transfer controlling shares.”
“Could she do it with additional paperwork?”
A cold feeling settled in my chest.
“There is one document.”
“What document?”
“My father created a succession certificate before he died.”
I swallowed.
“It is kept in my safe.”
Ramirez glanced toward the damaged safe in the bedroom.
“And if someone had that certificate?”
“They could try to convince the board that I had temporarily transferred voting authority.”
Ramirez was silent.
My phone rang.
The caller was Daniel Price, general counsel for Wentworth Holdings.
I answered.
“Austin, where are you?”
“Home.”
There was a pause.
“I thought you were flying to London.”
“My flight was canceled.”
Another pause.
Then Daniel said the words that made everything click.
“Good.”
May you like
“Why?”
“Because your mother called an emergency board meeting for nine tomorrow morning.”
