Hayes remained behind, clutching his wounded shoulder and swearing that he would have all of us arrested.
No one cared.
The corridor ended at a
steel door.
Margaret entered a six-digit code.
The lock clicked.
Inside was a room colder than the basement.
Rows of servers hummed beneath fluorescent lights.
Russell stared.
“You rebuilt it.”
Margaret nodded.
“I never dismantled anything.”
“What is this?” I asked.
“The real inheritance.”
Russell looked at me.
Not the house.
Not the money.
Not his company.
**Information.**
Margaret approached a terminal.
“Russell’s network wasn’t just blackmail.”
Russell added quietly, “It became an archive.”
“Of what?”
“Corruption. Bribery. Financial crimes. Violence. Cover-ups.”
Daniel looked around.
“You kept evidence on everyone?”
Russell nodded.
“At first for leverage.”
“And later?”
His eyes dropped.
“Insurance.”
Margaret inserted a drive.
“Three months ago, someone accessed Russell’s medical file.”
A timestamp appeared.
Claire leaned closer.
“Who?”
“His private physician.”
Russell frowned.
“Dr. Bennett?”
“His credentials were used.”
“Were?”
Margaret enlarged the log.
“From another location.”
A security image appeared.
A woman sat at a computer.
Young.
Blonde.
Elegant.
I recognized her immediately.
“Rebecca?”
Russell’s personal assistant.
She had worked for him for eight years.
She organized his travel.
His medicine deliveries.
His appointments.
She had even sat beside me at the hospital once and held my hand while Russell was in surgery.
“No.”
Margaret opened another file.
Payments.
Encrypted accounts.
Foreign transfers.
“Rebecca wasn’t working alone.”
Russell looked sick.
“For whom?”
Margaret glanced toward the basement behind us.
“Thomas.”
Hayes.
My father.
I felt numb.
“He ordered her to poison Russell?”
“Not exactly.”
Hayes appeared in the doorway.
Blood stained his shirt.
He had followed us.
Claire reached for her gun, but Daniel stopped her.
Hayes said, “Rebecca was supposed to make him weak.”
