Chapter 12 - The Woman With No Address.
The family office had paid Patricia Sloan for nine months.
Her personnel file contained a tax form, direct-deposit information, and a copy of an identification card.
The mailing address belonged to a commercial mailbox center in Connecticut.
The listed phone number had been disconnected.
No employee in the room remembered meeting her in person.
Arthur looked embarrassed.
“She worked remotely.”
Ethan stared at him.
“You approved payroll for someone nobody met?”
“Margaret handled the hiring documentation.”
Margaret lifted her chin.
“She was recommended through a staffing firm.”
“Which firm?”
Margaret hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
Arthur searched the vendor database.
The staffing firm shared a mailing address with M.C. Events Management.
Daniel let out a disbelieving laugh.
“You created your own administrator.”
Margaret’s attorney immediately interrupted.
“No one should draw conclusions without verified records.”
He was right, and Ethan knew it.
They had evidence of suspicious transactions, not permission to invent facts.
So Ethan stopped asking Margaret to confess.
Instead, he asked Arthur to preserve the records and provide them to the appropriate professionals the next morning.
The officers documented the recovered property and left after advising everyone not to alter potential evidence.
By two in the morning, the estate was quiet.
Ethan moved Sophie into the suite beside his room.
Elena helped her change into clean pajamas borrowed from a cousin’s child.
Sophie refused to sleep until Ethan sat beside the bed.
“Are you leaving again?”
The question hurt more than anything Margaret had said.
“No.”
“You have work.”
“I do.”
“Far away?”
“Not anymore.”
Sophie studied him carefully, as though four years had already taught her that promises needed evidence.
Ethan understood.
“I am changing my work.”
“Because I was bad?”
“No.”
He took her hand.
“Because I should have been here more.”
Sophie touched the stuffed fox beside her pillow.
“Can he stay too?”
“Absolutely.”
She finally closed her eyes.
Ethan remained there until her breathing became slow and even.
At dawn, he returned to the library.
Arthur was still working.
He had discovered the direct-deposit account used for Patricia Sloan’s salary.
The account holder was not Patricia Sloan.
It belonged to a real person named Patricia Mercer.
Celia recognized the name immediately.
“That was Mother’s private secretary.”
Their mother had died twelve years earlier.
Patricia Mercer had retired before that.
Arthur found a current address in Florida.
Ethan called after sunrise.
An elderly woman answered.
When he explained who he was, she became quiet.
“I wondered when your family would call.”
Ethan put the phone on speaker.
Patricia Mercer explained that Margaret had contacted her the previous year asking permission to use her name as a reference for temporary consulting work.
Patricia refused.
Then she received a bank notice about an account she had never opened.
She reported it and closed it immediately.
“Did you tell Margaret?” Ethan asked.
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
Patricia paused.
“She said someone in your company must be framing her.”
Ethan looked around the library.
That accusation had now been aimed at Marcus, Daniel, and unknown staff.
Patricia continued.
“But there is something you should know.”
“What?”
“Your wife called me shortly before she died.”
Ethan’s hand tightened around the phone.
“What did Nora want?”
May you like
Patricia answered softly.
“She wanted to know whether Margaret had ever forged my signature before.”
