Chapter 7 - THE HOUSE IN THE MOUNTAINS
The drive took four hours.
We turned off the main highway onto narrow, winding roads that climbed steadily upward. The city faded behind us, replaced by dense forest and towering mountains. The air grew cooler, sharper.
Clara drove in silence, taking twists and turns that seemed to lead nowhere. Olivia fell asleep leaning against my shoulder. Emma woke up and stared quietly out the window, clutching Clara’s hand whenever she reached back.
Finally, we turned onto an unpaved road and bumped along for another mile. Through the trees, an old house appeared.
It was made of dark stone, built into the side of the mountain, surrounded by tall pines. Ivy climbed the walls. A wide porch wrapped around the front. It looked like something from another century—solid, enduring, completely hidden from the world below.
Clara parked beside the house. “Rebecca’s grandmother built this place. She wanted somewhere to disappear to when the world became too much. No one knows about it outside the family. Not even you.”
We stepped out of the car. The silence here was profound. Only the sound of wind through trees and birds calling from deep in the woods.
Clara unlocked the front door. Inside, the house smelled of cedar and beeswax. Dust motes danced in shafts of sunlight streaming through tall windows. The furniture was covered in white sheets. Portraits of Rebecca’s ancestors lined the hallway.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” Clara said quietly. “It’s safe here. There are no cameras. No alarms. No one knows this address.”
We spent the afternoon settling in. Clara found blankets and made up beds. She built a fire in the stone hearth in the living room. Olivia explored quietly, her curiosity slowly overcoming her fear.
By evening, the three of us sat around the fire. Emma was asleep in a basket nearby. Olivia had curled up on a rug beside the flames.
I laid the copies of the file on the table beside us. The firelight flickered across the photographs and notes.
“Let’s look at the money trail,” I said quietly.
Clara sat beside me. She pulled out a notebook and pen. “Three years ago. Rebecca died. Within days of her death, large sums of money began moving from your accounts into offshore accounts. Then into accounts linked to Marco Hale.” She looked at me. “That’s what Vanessa showed you. Right?”
I nodded.
“But here’s what she didn’t tell you.” Clara turned to a fresh page. “Those transfers were made with digital signatures. Not yours. Not handwritten. Someone gained remote access to your banking portal and moved the money.”
“How?”
“Vanessa worked in your office IT department for three weeks six months ago. Remember? Temporary help.”
I stared at her. “She was installing backdoors.”
Clara nodded. “She waited until now to plant the records. She’s been altering your financial history for months. Building a paper trail that makes it look like you’ve been paying Marco for years.”
My stomach turned. “She’s been setting me up from the moment she walked into my life.”
“She’s been building a perfect trap. And she almost succeeded.” Clara tapped the file. “But there’s something she can’t fake. The dates. The timestamps on the original banking servers. If we can get access to unaltered bank records from three years ago… we prove the transfers didn’t exist until recently.”
“And if we can’t?”
Clara was quiet for a moment. “Then we find who really paid Marco. Because someone did. And it wasn’t you.”
We worked late into the night. Cross-referencing dates. Comparing transactions. Mapping out every step of what happened three years ago and what was happening now.
Slowly, the full picture began to emerge.
Vanessa and Marco Hale. Rebecca’s younger sister and brother. Motive: Rebecca had inherited the family estate and trust fund. Vanessa and Marco received nothing. They were jealous. Bitter.
They devised a plan. Kill Rebecca. Make it look like an accident. Then Vanessa would infiltrate my life, marry me, and take control of everything Rebecca and I had together.
Then, once she had full access… she would frame me for Rebecca’s death. Send me to prison. Take my children’s inheritance. And disappear.
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Emma was the final obstacle. If Emma died… Olivia would be the sole heir. And once Olivia was out of the way… Vanessa would have it all.
I stared at the timeline. “She was going to eliminate Olivia too.
