Chapter 2 - The First Folder
Samuel Price did not look at my brother when he entered the study.
That frightened Julian more than anger would have.
Samuel was seventy-one, silver-haired, painfully precise, and had represented my father for almost thirty years. I had seen him at Christmas dinners, company meetings, hospital conferences, and once at three in the morning when Dad needed an emergency change made to a trust.
He never hurried.
That night, he walked into the room carrying a leather briefcase while the two bank investigators remained near the doorway.
Julian stared at them.
“Who are they?”
Samuel placed his briefcase on Dad’s desk.
“People your father requested.”
“My father is dead.”
Samuel looked at him calmly.
“Yes. Which is why his instructions are now in effect.”
Serena shifted near the fireplace.
Uncle Raymond cleared his throat. “Sam, this is a family matter.”
Samuel removed his glasses.
“No, Raymond. According to what Richard left with my office, it stopped being merely a family matter approximately eight months ago.”
The room went silent.
My father’s name hung between us.
Richard Marlowe.
For most people in town, that name meant Marlowe Industrial Supply, forty years of business, three warehouses, real estate, and the kind of reputation men like Julian liked to inherit without earning.
For me, it meant the man who taught me how to ride a bicycle.
The man who called every Sunday even after I moved away.
The man whose hands shook near the end, but whose mind remained terrifyingly sharp.
I looked down at the six folders inside the safe.
Each one had a number written across the front.
Samuel pointed to the first.
“Elena, please open Folder One.”
Julian stepped forward.
“I’m his son.”
“And she is executor.”
“He was medicated!”
Samuel’s expression did not change.
“Your father anticipated that allegation.”
Julian froze.
I opened the folder.
Inside were twelve bank statements.
At first, I did not understand what I was seeing.
Then I saw the highlighted withdrawals.
Forty-eight thousand dollars.
Seventy-two thousand.
Ninety-five thousand.
A hundred and ten thousand.
Over and over again.
All from accounts belonging to Marlowe Industrial Supply.
Beside several withdrawals was the name of a company I did not recognize.
North Peak Consulting LLC.
I looked at Samuel.
“What is this?”
He did not answer immediately.
One of the investigators did.
“My name is Rebecca Hall. I work with the bank’s financial crimes division. Your father contacted us four months ago.”
Julian laughed, but it sounded forced.
“This is ridiculous.”
Rebecca continued.
“He reported unauthorized transfers from corporate accounts.”
Serena’s face lost color.
Julian noticed.
His head snapped toward her.
“Why are you looking like that?”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
I turned another page.
There were copies of wire transfer approvals.
Several carried Dad’s signature.
Except I knew my father’s handwriting.
These were close.
Too close.
But wrong.
The final curve of the R was too narrow.
The line beneath Marlowe was too straight.
Dad’s hand had trembled during the last year, but these signatures were smooth.
“These are forged,” I whispered.
Julian slammed his hand against the desk.
“No, they aren’t.”
Everyone looked at him.
His jaw tightened.
“I mean—you don’t know that.”
Samuel reached into his briefcase.
“Richard did.”
He placed a forensic document examination report on the desk.
My stomach dropped.
Dad had known.
Not suspected.
Known.
The report compared fourteen signatures.
Nine had been identified as likely fraudulent.
Julian started pacing.
“This is insane. Dad authorized business expenses all the time.”
“Through North Peak Consulting?” I asked.
He stopped.
For half a second, his face answered before his mouth did.
Then he smiled.
“There were consulting projects.”
“What projects?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“I ran Dad’s accounts for six months.”
“You paid bills, Elena. Don’t pretend you were running the company.”
There it was.
The old voice.
The same voice he used when we were teenagers and he wrecked Dad’s truck, then told everyone I had distracted him.
The voice that made insult sound like fact.
Rebecca stepped closer.
“Mr. Marlowe, were you associated with North Peak Consulting?”
Julian folded his arms.
“I’m not answering questions without a lawyer.”
Samuel nodded.
“That would be wise.”
Raymond moved toward him.
“What exactly are you accusing my nephew of?”
Samuel looked at me instead.
“Open the note.”
My fingers trembled as I unfolded Dad’s handwritten page.
The first line nearly broke me.
Elena, if you are reading this, then your brother has already demanded the safe.
I swallowed hard.
Julian stared at me.
“What does it say?”
I kept reading.
I am sorry for leaving this burden with you. But Julian has mistaken love for permission for too long. I protected him from consequences when he was young. I paid debts he swore were temporary. I believed every rescue would be the last.
It never was.
My eyes burned.
Dad had never spoken about Julian that way.
Not openly.
I continued.
Eight months ago, I discovered money missing from the company.
When I confronted Julian privately, he denied involvement.
Three weeks later, additional documents appeared bearing my signature.
They were not signed by me.
I heard Serena gasp.
Julian spun toward her.
“Stop doing that!”
She pressed a hand against her mouth.
I read the final paragraph.
Do not confront him alone.
Do not allow him access to the study, company records, or the lake property.
Most importantly, do not assume Julian acted alone.
I stopped.
The room changed.
Suddenly nobody was watching only Julian.
They were watching one another.
Raymond’s face hardened.
Serena stared at the floor.
My cousins shifted uncomfortably.
Samuel quietly took Dad’s letter from my hand and placed it inside a protective sleeve.
Julian pointed at me.
“She wrote that.”
My mouth fell open.
He laughed bitterly.
“You think I don’t see what this is? Elena gets executor control, Elena gets the safe, Elena produces a magical letter accusing me of stealing.”
Samuel opened his briefcase again.
“Your father recorded himself signing it.”
Julian’s smile vanished.
“And the recording was witnessed by two nurses and a notary.”
I watched something inside my brother crack.
Not guilt.
Fear.
Real fear.
He backed away from the desk.
“This is a setup.”
“No,” I said quietly. “Dad called it consequences.”
His eyes met mine.
For one moment, I saw the boy he used to be.
The boy who once carried me home after I fell from a tree.
The brother who stood beside me at Mom’s funeral when neither of us knew how to survive losing her.
Then his expression hardened again.
“You always wanted him to choose you.”
“No.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I wanted you to stop hurting him.”
His face twisted.
“You don’t know anything.”
Rebecca interrupted.
“We will need access to Mr. Richard Marlowe’s corporate records.”
Julian laughed.
“You’ll need a warrant.”
“Perhaps.”
Samuel closed the first folder.
“Or Elena can authorize access as executor and temporary voting trustee.”
Julian stared at him.
“What did you say?”
Samuel paused.
“Your father’s controlling shares did not pass directly to either child upon death.”
I felt my chest tighten.
I had not known that.
Samuel continued.
“They entered a temporary estate trust.”
Julian’s eyes moved to me.
“And until the estate is settled,” Samuel said, “Elena controls the voting authority.”
The room exploded.
Julian shouted.
Raymond cursed.
One cousin hurried Serena away from the fireplace as Julian kicked the leg of Dad’s desk.
“You gave her my company!”
“Our father built that company,” I said.
“I ran it!”
“You took a salary from it.”
“I made deals!”
“You also apparently made transfers.”
He came toward me.
The two investigators moved immediately.
So did Samuel.
Julian stopped before reaching me.
Then he smiled.
It was the ugliest smile I had ever seen on my brother’s face.
“All right.”
He straightened his jacket.
“You want a war?”
I wiped the last trace of blood from my lip.
“No.”
He stepped backward toward the door.
“You’ve got one.”
Then he walked out.
Serena followed, but before she reached the hallway, she turned.
Her eyes met mine.
And very slowly, almost invisibly, she shook her head.
Not at Julian.
At me.
A warning.
Twenty minutes later, most of the relatives had left.
Samuel asked Rebecca and her colleague to wait downstairs.
I remained in Dad’s study.
The room still smelled like him.
Cedarwood.
Coffee.
Old paper.
Samuel sat opposite me.
“You handled yourself well.”
“I feel sick.”
“That would also be reasonable.”
I looked at the remaining five folders.
“What else did he find?”
Samuel’s gaze settled on Folder Two.
“Enough that he stopped sleeping comfortably in his own house.”
I looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
“Your father believed someone was watching him.”
A cold feeling moved through me.
“Julian?”
“He wasn’t sure.”
I remembered Dad’s final week.
The way he had asked me twice whether I had locked the hospital room door.
The way he insisted that I take his old watch home.
The way he whispered one night, Elena, promises become dangerous when desperate people make them.
At the time, I thought medication had made him confused.
Now I wondered whether he had been the only person seeing clearly.
Samuel pushed Folder Two toward me.
“Your father gave strict instructions.”
“What instructions?”
“That you open this one only after Julian left the house.”
I stared at the folder.
“Why?”
Samuel’s answer came quietly.
“Because this file isn’t about stolen money.”
My fingers closed around the edge.
“What is it about?”
May you like
He looked toward the dark hallway.
“Your father’s death.”
