Mara reached for the recorder.
Celia continued, her breathing uneven.
“Richard said the tether would be removed before the door opened. He said you had signed the revised estate documents. He said there was no way you could expose us.”
I looked toward the clouds.
The helicopter was gone.
“Where is he?”
Celia laughed once, but there was no amusement in it.
“He went to the estate.”
“Why?”
“He needs the original trust documents.”
Mara stood.
“Why would he need them?”
Celia was quiet.
Then she said, “Because the copies you have are false.”
A coldness deeper than the ocean moved through me.
Mara leaned closer. “Explain.”
“The trust was amended six months ago,” Celia said. “The amendment removed Richard as beneficiary if Amelia died under suspicious circumstances. But Richard never received that version. I kept it from him.”
I stared at the recorder.
“You kept it from me too.”
Another silence.
“Yes.”
The admission hurt more than I expected.
Not because I had trusted Celia completely. By then I understood that trust had been a luxury I could no longer afford.
It hurt because she had possessed the truth while I had been preparing to fight blind.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because Richard had access to your accounts, your physician, your household staff, and the judge who handled the preliminary petition. He was watching everyone around you. I thought I could keep the final documents hidden until we had enough evidence.”
“You put me in a helicopter with him.”
“I believed the pilot was loyal.”
“You recommended him.”
“I believed I had bought his loyalty.”
Mara’s gaze sharpened.
“You paid him?”
“Not me. Richard did.”
The boat struck the marina wall.
Paramedics moved me toward the waiting ambulance. Mara walked beside the stretcher while answering questions into her phone.
Celia’s voice followed us through the recorder.
“There is another problem,” she said.
I turned my head.
“What problem?”
“The original trust documents aren’t at the estate.”
“Where are they?”
“I don’t know.”
Richard had not gone to retrieve them.
He had gone to destroy whatever remained.
The ambulance doors closed, cutting off the wind.
For the first time since I had fallen, there was no movement except the rhythmic flashing of lights across the ceiling.
Mara climbed in beside me.
“Your security team is at the estate,” she said. “The police are on their way. We’ll get you to the hospital first.”
“What does Richard know?”
“That you survived.”
“Then he’ll run.”
“He can’t. We have the helicopter recordings, the emergency transmission, and witness testimony from the rescue crew.”
“Celia?”
“Her voice is on the recording.”
I turned my face toward the window.
Rain streaked the glass.
“Then why do I feel like he’s still ahead of us?”
Mara did not answer immediately.
Because she understood, I thought.
Men like Richard did not need to be ahead of everyone. They only needed one locked door, one hidden account, one person willing to lie for them.
