Chapter 9 - Whispers of the Past
9 - 15
Three weeks after the collapse of Victor Blackwood’s criminal empire, the Blackwood estate had returned to a semblance of normal, peaceful elegance. The manicured gardens were bursting with autumn blooms, the staff moved quietly through the sunlit corridors, and the haunting shadows of the past seemed safely locked away in the annals of legal history.
Yet, healing was a slow and delicate process.
Late one Tuesday evening, Ethan woke up to the sound of soft, muffled crying coming from the balcony outside their master bedroom. He slipped out from under the heavy down comforter, pulled on a cashmere robe, and pushed the glass French doors open into the cool night air.
Amelia was standing by the wrought-iron railing, wrapped in a thick wool shawl, staring up at the brilliant canopy of stars stretching across the dark autumn sky. Her shoulders trembled slightly as silent tears tracked down her cheeks.
Ethan stepped out quietly, slipping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. He rested his chin gently on her shoulder.
“Can’t sleep?” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
Amelia leaned back into his embrace, letting out a shaky, melancholic sigh. “I keep having the dreams, Ethan. Every time I close my eyes, I’m back in that subterranean room. I can hear the hum of the medical monitors, I can smell the antiseptic, and I keep waiting for the door to open—wondering if it’s you coming to save me, or Victor coming with another syringe.”
Ethan tightened his arms around her, holding her as if he could physically shield her from the lingering ghosts of her trauma. “You’re here, Amelia. You’re in our home, in our bed, with our daughter sleeping just down the hall. No one will ever touch you again. I swear it on my life.”
“I know,” she whispered, turning around in his arms to bury her face against his chest. “It just takes time for the mind to catch up to the fact that the nightmare is actually over.”
“We’ll take all the time you need,” Ethan promised, gently stroking her dark hair. “We have the rest of our lives.”
She looked up at him, her dark eyes catching the silver moonlight. “Did the federal prosecutors finish reviewing Victor’s personal files? Did they find anything else hidden in those offshore accounts?”
“Actually, that’s why I came out here,” Ethan said, his expression turning serious. “Vance called me from the office an hour ago. While doing a forensic audit of Victor’s private Swiss holdings, they discovered a secondary encrypted partition—not related to the corporate accounts, and not tied to the board.”
Amelia frowned, stepping back slightly. “What kind of partition?”
“A private personal trust,” Ethan said quietly. “Registered under a separate entity overseas. It wasn’t funded by Blackwood Global. It was funded by an anonymous third party—someone who was funneling millions of dollars into Victor’s accounts right around the time of the hospital fire.”
May you like
Amelia’s breath caught in her throat. “Who?”
“We don’t know yet,” Ethan answered, his eyes narrowing as he looked out toward the dark horizon of the city. “But whoever was paying Victor to get rid of us wasn't just trying to take over a corporation. They were working with someone on the inside.”
