PART 4 — THE WOMAN WHO HELD THE MISSING $2.4 MILLION
“Natalie’s.”
The word seemed to hang over the kitchen table.
Ethan stopped struggling.
And that was how I knew Margaret was telling the truth.
I stared at her.
“How do you know?”
Margaret looked at Ethan.
He shook his head once.
A warning.
She saw it too.
And something inside her finally snapped.
“Don’t you dare,” she whispered.
“Mom.”
“Don’t you dare look at me like that after what you’ve done.”
The investigator kept one hand on Ethan’s arm.
Margaret walked toward the table.
“Three months ago, Ethan came to my house.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
“He told me he was making an investment.”
“What kind of investment?” Thomas asked.
“He wouldn’t explain.”
Margaret swallowed.
“He said it was better if I didn’t know the details.”
“And you accepted that?”
Her face tightened with shame.
“He’s my son.”
Dad answered quietly.
“That isn’t an answer.”
Margaret looked at him.
“No.”
She shook her head.
“It’s an excuse.”
For the first time since I’d known her, Margaret Blackwood sounded humbled.
She continued.
“Ethan asked me to sign several documents. He said they were connected to estate planning and tax restructuring.”
Thomas nodded toward the papers.
“The shell companies.”
“Apparently.”
“Did Natalie ever come up?”
Margaret hesitated.
“Once.”
Ethan immediately said, “Mom, stop talking.”
The investigator tightened his grip.
Margaret stared at her son.
Then she continued.
“I asked Ethan why a woman named Natalie Cross kept calling him.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did he say?”
“He told me she was handling the investment.”
“And you believed him?”
Margaret looked at me.
“I wanted to.”
That sentence told me more than she intended.
She had known.
Maybe not about everything.
But she’d known enough to ask questions.
Just like me.
The difference was that when the answers became uncomfortable, Margaret had chosen not to look.
Thomas tapped the screen.
“How do you know the offshore account belongs to Natalie?”
Margaret walked toward her handbag.
She opened it and removed her phone.
“Because she called me.”
Ethan jerked against the investigator.
“Mom!”
“When?”
I asked.
“Yesterday.”
My heart pounded.
“The day before Ethan disappeared all night?”
Margaret nodded.
“What did Natalie say?”
“She asked whether Ethan had told me about Switzerland.”
Thomas straightened.
“Switzerland?”
“I thought she meant a trip.”
Margaret unlocked her phone.
“Then she sent me this.”
She handed it to Thomas.
He read the message.
His expression changed.
“What?”
Thomas turned the screen toward the investigator.
“An account reference.”
The investigator studied it.
Then looked toward Ethan.
“Mr. Blackwood, I strongly suggest you stop talking.”
Ethan laughed bitterly.
“You think this proves anything?”
Nobody answered.
He looked at me.
“Charlotte, tell them.”
“Tell them what?”
“That Natalie worked for you.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
His smile returned slightly.
“Years ago.”
I searched my memory.
Then I remembered.
Natalie Cross.
Not as Ethan’s lover.
As Natalie Mercer.
A junior compliance analyst at the firm where I’d worked before marriage.
My stomach dropped.
“Her last name was Mercer.”
“Before she got divorced.”
Thomas looked at me.
“You know her?”
“Barely.”
But that wasn’t completely true.
I remembered her now.
Quiet.
Ambitious.
Brilliant with numbers.
She’d worked two floors below me.
We’d collaborated on one investigation.
Maybe two.
Then she’d left the company suddenly.
And now she was sleeping with my husband.
Or working with him.
Or both.
“How did Ethan meet her?” Dad asked.
I already knew.
“Through me.”
Ethan smiled.
“Exactly.”
I stared at him.
Years earlier, I’d hosted a company dinner at our house.
Natalie had attended.
Ethan had met her there.
I hadn’t thought about that night in years.
“How long?”
Ethan said nothing.
“HOW LONG?”
Margaret answered.
“I think before the wedding.”
My entire body went cold.
I turned toward her.
“What?”
“I’m sorry.”
“No. How long?”
She looked at the floor.
“I saw them together once.”
“When?”
“About two months before you and Ethan got married.”
The kitchen disappeared around me.
My marriage was five years old.
Five years.
I looked at Ethan.
“You were seeing her before our wedding?”
He stared at me.
“I wasn’t seeing her.”
“Then what were you doing?”
“Talking.”
I laughed.
It sounded broken.
“Apparently talking is very expensive.”
Thomas glanced at the $2.4 million transfer.
Ethan’s face hardened.
“You don’t understand what Natalie was doing.”
“Then explain it.”
“She was helping me.”
“Steal?”
“Build something!”
The word exploded out of him.
Everyone froze.
Ethan realized he’d said too much.
Thomas leaned forward.
“Build what?”
Silence.
“Ethan?”
He stared at the floor.
Then Margaret whispered, “A new life.”
He looked up sharply.
I turned toward her.
“What did you say?”
Margaret was crying now.
“A few weeks ago, I found airline confirmations at his house.”
“Where to?”
“Geneva.”
Thomas and the investigator exchanged another glance.
“Two tickets?”
Margaret nodded.
“Under Ethan’s name and Natalie’s.”
My chest tightened.
“When?”
Margaret’s voice became barely audible.
“Tomorrow.”
Everything suddenly made sense.
The money.
The offshore account.
The documents.
The lies.
The night away.
Ethan wasn’t preparing for some distant future.
He was leaving.
Tomorrow.
I looked at him.
“You were going to disappear.”
He said nothing.
“You were going to leave me carrying the evidence.”
Still nothing.
My forged emails.
My login credentials.
My father’s restitution account.
Margaret’s signatures.
Every trail pointed toward everyone except Ethan.
And while investigators untangled it all, Ethan and Natalie would be gone.
“That was the plan, wasn’t it?”
His silence answered.
My father looked at him with disgust.
“You intended to frame my daughter.”
Ethan suddenly shouted, “I didn’t have a choice!”
I stared at him.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The excuse.”
I stepped closer.
“You stole money because you had no choice.”
“You forged my emails because you had no choice.”
“You used your mother’s identity because you had no choice.”
“You hit me because you had no choice.”
His face tightened.
“Stop twisting everything.”
“I’m not twisting anything.”
I touched my lip again.
“I’m finally seeing it straight.”
The investigator guided Ethan toward the hallway.
“We’re done here.”
But before they reached the door, Ethan turned.
“Natalie has the money.”
The investigator stopped.
“What?”
Ethan laughed.
“You think I’m stupid enough to put $2.4 million in my own name?”
Thomas stared at him.
“So you admit the account exists.”
Ethan realized his mistake.
Too late.
The investigator’s expression sharpened.
“Where is Natalie Cross?”
Ethan smiled.
“Good luck.”
My phone rang.
Every person in the room froze.
Unknown number.
I stared at it.
Ethan’s smile disappeared.
Something told me to answer.
I pressed the speaker button.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then a woman’s voice.
“Charlotte?”
I knew immediately.
Natalie.
Ethan lunged forward.
“Hang up!”
The investigator restrained him.
Natalie heard the commotion.
“He’s there, isn’t he?”
I looked at Ethan.
“Yes.”
She exhaled shakily.
“Are the investigators there too?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Ethan shouted, “Natalie, don’t say anything!”
She became silent.
Then she whispered, “He hit you, didn’t he?”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“How do you know?”
“Because he told me.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
Natalie started crying.
“He came to my apartment last night.”
The kitchen went silent.
“He was furious.”
“Because I asked where he’d been?”
“No.”
Her voice trembled.
“Because I told him I wasn’t leaving with him.”
Ethan stared at the floor.
I swallowed.
“Why not?”
“Because I found out what he’d done.”
“With the money?”
“With everything.”
Thomas leaned toward the phone.
“Natalie, this is Thomas Reeves. Where are you?”
She hesitated.
“I can’t tell you.”
“You’re connected to an account containing $2.4 million.”
“I know.”
“That money may be evidence.”
“I know.”
“Then you need legal counsel and you need to cooperate.”
“I will.”
Ethan laughed.
“She’s lying.”
Natalie went quiet.
Then she said something that made him stop laughing.
“I have the ledger, Ethan.”
His entire body went rigid.
Thomas looked at me.
“What ledger?”
Natalie answered.
“The real one.”
Ethan shouted, “There is no ledger!”
Natalie ignored him.
“Every transfer.”
Thomas stood straighter.
“How far back?”
“Seven years.”
I stared at Ethan.
Seven years?
We had only been married for five.
Natalie continued.
“Names. Companies. Accounts. Dates. Everything.”
The investigator moved closer to the phone.
“Ms. Cross, we need that information.”
“You’ll get it.”
“Where is it?”
“Somewhere Ethan can’t reach.”
Ethan’s face was white.
“You’re destroying yourself too, Natalie.”
“I know.”
Her answer was calm.
That frightened him more.
She continued.
“But I’m done letting you destroy other people to protect yourself.”
Ethan began struggling again.
“Natalie!”
She ignored him.
“Charlotte?”
“I’m here.”
“I’m sorry.”
I closed my eyes.
There were a thousand things I could have said.
Instead, I asked the only question that mattered.
“Did you help him steal the money?”
A long silence.
“At first, I didn’t know.”
“And later?”
She started crying again.
“Later, I knew enough that I should’ve walked away.”
My chest tightened.
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
Her voice cracked.
“It’s the only honest answer I have.”
I appreciated that more than another excuse.
“Why are you calling me?”
“Because Ethan doesn’t know everything I found.”
He stopped struggling.
I looked at him.
“What did you find?”
Natalie took a breath.
“The $2.4 million wasn’t his final transfer.”
Thomas’s head snapped toward the phone.
“What?”
“There was supposed to be one more.”
“How much?”
Natalie hesitated.
“Eight million.”
My father whispered, “Good God.”
I gripped the counter.
“Where would eight million come from?”
Natalie didn’t answer.
“Natalie?”
“When I discovered the target account, that’s when I refused to leave with him.”
My stomach twisted.
“What target account?”
She whispered my name.
“Charlotte.”
“What?”
“The eight million wasn’t coming from your father.”
I felt cold.
“It wasn’t coming from Margaret.”
I looked at Ethan.
His eyes were fixed on me.
Natalie continued.
“It was coming from you.”
I almost laughed.
“I don’t have eight million dollars sitting in an account.”
“Not in cash.”
Then I understood.
My inheritance.
Years earlier, my grandmother had left me a portfolio of property and investments.
I’d rarely touched it.
Its current value was somewhere around—
Eight million dollars.
I stared at Ethan.
“You were going to take my inheritance?”
He said nothing.
Natalie answered for him.
“Tomorrow morning.”
Thomas moved quickly.
“Charlotte, we need to freeze every account immediately.”
“They’re already protected.”
“No.”
Natalie interrupted.
“Not the account Ethan was targeting.”
I froze.
“What do you mean?”
“He couldn’t access your investment portfolio directly.”
“Then how?”
“He created a transfer authorization.”
My heart pounded.
“With my forged signature?”
“No.”
Natalie hesitated.
“That’s the problem.”
I looked at Ethan.
He was smiling again.
“What problem?”
Natalie whispered, “The signature isn’t forged.”
I stared at the phone.
“That’s impossible.”
“Do you remember signing documents at your anniversary dinner six months ago?”
My blood turned cold.
I remembered.
Ethan had brought papers from our insurance company.
Or that’s what he’d told me.
He’d placed little tabs beside every signature line.
I had been distracted.
Guests were arriving.
I’d signed.
Page after page.
“No.”
Natalie’s voice broke.
“Charlotte, one of those documents gave him limited financial authority.”
Thomas immediately said, “Power of attorney?”
“Not exactly. But enough to initiate a transfer under specific conditions.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“When?”
“Tomorrow at nine.”
Thomas checked his watch.
“Then we stop it.”
Natalie went silent.
“What?”
Thomas repeated, “We stop the transfer.”
“No.”
Her voice changed.
“It’s already started.”
Every person in the kitchen froze.
“What do you mean already?”
“Ethan moved the execution time.”
I looked toward the clock above the dining-room arch.
8:42 a.m.
“When?”
Natalie whispered:
“8:30.”
Twelve minutes ago.
Thomas grabbed his phone.
My father reached for his.
The investigator started issuing instructions.
But Ethan just stood there.
And smiled.
I stared at him.
“You already took it.”
He tilted his head.
“Maybe you should’ve asked that question before breakfast.”
My hands went cold.
Eight million dollars.
My grandmother’s legacy.
My future.
Possibly gone in twelve minutes.
Then Thomas shouted from across the room.
“Charlotte!”
I turned.
He was staring at his phone.
“What?”
His expression was unlike anything I’d seen all morning.
“The transfer didn’t go through.”
Ethan’s smile vanished.
“What?”
Thomas stared at the screen.
“It was rejected.”
Ethan lunged toward him.
“That’s impossible!”
The investigator grabbed him.
Thomas looked at me.
“Someone placed a restriction on the account at 8:27.”
Three minutes before the transfer.
I stared at him.
“Who?”
Thomas slowly turned toward my father.
Dad wasn’t smiling.
I looked at him.
“Daddy?”
He shook his head.
“It wasn’t me.”
The kitchen became silent again.
Then Natalie spoke through the phone.
“I know who did it.”
Ethan stopped moving.
I picked up the phone.
“Who?”
Natalie took a shaky breath.
“Charlotte, there’s one more person involved.”
My stomach dropped.
“Who?”
“The person who has been sending me copies of Ethan’s records for the last four months.”
Ethan’s face went completely blank.
I looked around the kitchen.
At Dad.
Thomas.
Margaret.
The investigators.
Then back at my husband.
“Who was sending them?”
Natalie’s answer came quietly.
“Someone who lives in your house.”
I stopped breathing.
Ethan stared toward the staircase.
And for the first time that morning, I realized someone had been standing silently at the top of it.
Watching us.
Listening to everything.
Then a familiar voice said:
“I think it’s time I told Charlotte the truth.”……
