Chapter 4 - The Man Behind Northstar
By three o’clock, my driveway had become a crime scene.
Firefighters extinguished the car before the flames reached the fuel tank, but the interior was destroyed. Black smoke stained the garage door. Shattered glass covered the pavement where I had stood less than an hour earlier.
Someone had driven past the house, thrown a homemade firebomb through the open passenger-side window, and disappeared before the nearest patrol officer reached the street.
A neighbor’s security camera captured the vehicle.
Dark sedan.
Temporary plate.
Driver wearing a baseball cap.
No visible face.
The attack proved two things.
First, Marcus Vale knew the folder existed.
Second, he was willing to act in daylight, on a suburban street surrounded by police.
Detective Cole ordered Ryan and Emily transported separately for questioning. Neither was formally arrested yet, but both were advised that leaving would be a very bad idea.
Emily shouted as officers placed her in a patrol car.
“This is Claire’s fault! She ruins everything and then pretends she’s the victim!”
I stood on the porch and watched the cruiser pull away.
Her words should have hurt.
Instead, they clarified something I had refused to understand for years.
Emily did not hate me because of anything I had done.
She hated the fact that my existence reminded her of every choice she had made.
Daniel remained at the house after the officers left.
He called his department, explained that he was involved in an active investigation, and requested emergency leave.
Then he made another call.
“To whom?” I asked.
“A family attorney.”
“You already have one?”
“I trained her son at the academy.”
He slipped his phone into his pocket.
“Claire, you need your own lawyer too. Someone who specializes in financial fraud and estate litigation.”
“I have a corporate attorney through work.”
“This is personal. Ryan may have used your company information, but the property, trust, and insurance policy are separate.”
I nodded, though my thoughts felt slow.
The house smelled like smoke and wet ash. Every object looked familiar, yet nothing felt like mine anymore.
Ryan’s coffee mug sat near the sink.
His jacket hung over a chair.
Our save-the-date cards were stacked beside the mail.
I picked one up.
Claire Morgan and Ryan Bennett request the pleasure of your company.
Saturday, June 14.
Four days away.
“I need to cancel the wedding,” I said.
Daniel’s eyes softened.
“I can help make calls.”
“I should do it.”
“You don’t have to do everything yourself.”
For most of my life, I had believed the opposite.
Our mother died when Emily and I were young. Our father responded to grief by disappearing into work. Our grandmother raised us, but even she depended on me to keep peace whenever Emily became reckless.
I filled out forms.
I remembered birthdays.
I repaired friendships Emily damaged and covered expenses she forgot.
I became the reliable one because someone had to be.
Ryan had admired that quality.
At least, I thought he had.
Now I understood he had studied it.
He knew I would manage the wedding, the finances, and the household while he quietly positioned himself to take control.
My phone rang.
The caller was my father.
I stared at his name.
He lived in Florida and had been planning to fly in Thursday.
Emily must have contacted him before the police took her phone.
I answered.
“Claire, what have you done?”
Not How are you?
Not Are you safe?
What have you done?
I closed my eyes.
“What did Emily tell you?”
“She said you broke into a private room, locked her inside, and called the police because you found her comforting Ryan during an anxiety attack.”
Daniel looked toward me.
I almost laughed from disbelief.
“Did she mention the bathtub?”
There was a pause.
“She said they had been discussing the wedding.”
“Without clothes?”
“Claire, I’m trying not to take sides.”
“You called me to accuse me before hearing my side.”
“I called because Emily is hysterical.”
“She and Ryan have been having an affair for eleven months.”
Silence.
“They also forged my signature on property documents.”
Another pause.
“Emily would never do that.”
“I watched Daniel read their messages.”
My father exhaled heavily.
“Daniel is angry. Angry people misinterpret things.”
“Someone set my car on fire forty minutes ago.”
This time, the silence lasted longer.
“What?”
“The police believe it is connected to a man named Marcus Vale.”
My father made a strange sound—not surprise exactly, but recognition.
I sat straighter.
“You know that name.”
“No.”
“You hesitated.”
“I’m shocked, Claire.”
“You know him.”
Daniel moved closer, watching my expression.
My father lowered his voice.
“This is not something to discuss on the phone.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why can’t we discuss it?”
“Because you are upset.”
“I found my fiancé with my sister. I discovered they were trying to steal my house. Someone burned my car while police were standing outside. I have earned the right to be upset.”
He sighed.
“Marcus Vale approached the family years ago.”
“What family?”
“Ours.”
I stood.
“When?”
“After your grandmother died.”
My grandmother had passed away four years earlier. She left the house to me and a smaller investment account to Emily.
Emily had accused her of favoritism.
In reality, Grandma left me the house because I had lived with her during the final two years of her life and paid the taxes, repairs, and medical expenses.
“What did Marcus want?”
“The property.”
“Why?”
“He represented developers interested in the entire block.”
“And you told him no?”
My father did not answer.
A cold understanding began forming.
“You didn’t tell him no.”
“I was under financial pressure.”
“How much did he pay you?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
Daniel’s expression hardened.
“For what?” I asked.
“An option agreement.”
“You sold an option on property you didn’t own?”
“I believed the house would be divided between you and Emily.”
“You knew Grandma left it to me.”
“The will had not completed probate.”
“So you accepted money from Marcus before the estate was settled.”
“I intended to repay it.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“Why not?”
“The investment failed.”
“What investment?”
He hesitated.
“A real estate fund.”
Daniel mouthed one word.
Northstar?
I asked.
“Was it Northstar?”
My father became silent.
My knees weakened.
I sat at the kitchen table.
“You invested Marcus’s money back into his company.”
“He promised the returns would cover everything.”
“Did you sign anything?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I don’t remember every document.”
“You remember.”
His voice sharpened.
“I am still your father.”
“And that does not make you innocent.”
Daniel looked away, giving me privacy while remaining near enough to support me.
My father’s tone softened again.
“Claire, listen carefully. Marcus is dangerous. He does not operate like a normal businessman. If he believes you are interfering with the development, he will not stop because police are involved.”
“How long has Emily known?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do.”
“She found some documents in my office last year.”
Eleven months ago.
The same time her messages with Ryan began.
Everything connected.
Emily learned our father owed Marcus money. Marcus offered a solution: gain control of my property, complete the development deal, and erase the debt.
But Emily wanted more than debt relief.
She wanted my inheritance, my fiancé, and the life she believed should have belonged to her.
“Why didn’t you warn me?”
“I thought it would disappear.”
“You thought Marcus Vale would disappear?”
“I thought Ryan would persuade you to sell.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“You knew Ryan was involved?”
“Not all the details.”
“What details did you know?”
“That he was helping Emily communicate with the developer.”
“Did you know about the forged documents?”
“No.”
“The insurance policy?”
“No.”
“The plan to take me to the lake?”
My father did not answer quickly enough.
Daniel turned back toward me.
I gripped the edge of the table.
“What was supposed to happen at the lake?”
“I only heard pieces.”
“Tell me.”
“Marcus said fear can make difficult people cooperative.”
My voice shook.
“You knew they were planning to frighten me.”
“I told Emily it had gone too far.”
“But you did not tell me.”
“I was trying to protect the family.”
“You were protecting yourself.”
He began apologizing, but the words no longer reached me.
I ended the call.
For several seconds, I sat without moving.
Then I placed the phone on the table.
“My father knew.”
Daniel pulled out the chair across from me.
“How much?”
“Enough to stop it.”
I repeated the conversation.
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he said, “Detective Cole needs to know immediately.”
I nodded.
Before we could call her, a woman appeared at the open front door.
She was in her early sixties, with silver hair pulled into a low knot and a leather bag clutched against her chest.
A uniformed officer stationed outside blocked her.
“I need to speak to Claire Morgan,” she said.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Melissa Crane.”
The notary.
I stood so quickly that the chair scraped backward.
The officer looked toward me.
I nodded.
Melissa entered but remained near the doorway.
Her hands shook.
“I saw the news alert about the car fire,” she said. “It listed this address.”
“How are you connected to Ryan?” Daniel asked.
She looked at me.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“Your signature.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“You notarized it?”
“No. I did not.”
“Then why is your seal on the document?”
“Because it was stolen.”
She opened the leather bag and removed a stack of printed emails.
“Six months ago, someone broke into my car outside the office. They took my notary journal, seal, and an old employee identification card.”
“You reported it,” I said.
“Yes, but nothing happened. The police assumed it was a random theft.”
“Why did you leave the company?”
Melissa’s eyes filled with shame.
“I was fired.”
“For what?”
“Accessing your personnel file.”
I stared at her.
“I never knew that.”
“Human Resources said my credentials were used after hours to download copies of your passport, tax forms, insurance information, and signature records.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Did you access them?”
“No. But the security logs showed my account.”
“Who knew your password?”
Melissa hesitated.
“Ryan.”
I felt cold again.
“He helped organize the employee charity auction last year. I let him use my desk computer to print shipping labels. I entered the password while he was standing beside me.”
She handed me the emails.
“I tried to contact you after I was terminated, but Human Resources told me the investigation was confidential. Then I received this.”
The final page was a message from an unknown address.
Stay quiet if you want your daughter to keep her home.
Melissa’s daughter had recently gone through a divorce and lived in a house partially financed by her mother.
“Why come forward now?” Daniel asked.
“Because someone tried to kill Claire today.”
The words struck me harder when spoken aloud.
Melissa looked directly at me.
“And because this is not the first time Marcus Vale has used Northstar to steal property.”
She reached into the bag again and removed an old newspaper clipping.
The article described a woman named Helen Barrett whose car had gone into the Muskingum River five years earlier.
The missing witness from Daniel’s fraud investigation.
Melissa pointed to the photograph.
“Helen was my sister.”
Daniel stared at her.
“You are Helen Barrett’s sister?”
“Yes.”
“What did she know?”
“She worked for a title company. She discovered Marcus had transferred properties using forged signatures and stolen notary seals.”
“Why did she drive to the river?”
“She didn’t.”
Melissa’s voice broke.
“She was terrified of water. She had not driven near that river in twenty years.”
The officer at the door contacted Detective Cole.
Melissa continued.
“Before Helen died, she mailed me a flash drive. I was too frightened to open it. I hid it inside a safe-deposit box and tried to forget it existed.”
“Do you still have it?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Marcus believes it was destroyed.”
Daniel rose.
“Where is it?”
“At a bank downtown.”
A vehicle accelerated outside.
The officer turned toward the street.
A black SUV passed the house slowly.
Its windows were dark.
Melissa’s face drained of color.
“That’s his vehicle.”
The SUV continued to the intersection, then disappeared.
Daniel moved to the window.
“Are you sure?”
“I saw it outside Helen’s house two days before she died.”
Detective Cole called moments later and ordered Melissa not to leave.
While we waited for another unit, Melissa gripped my hand.
“There is something else on the flash drive,” she whispered.
“What?”
“My sister recorded a meeting.”
“With Marcus?”
“Yes.”
“And my father?”
Melissa looked toward the street.
“Not only your father.”
May you like
Her grip tightened.
“Emily was there too.”
