Chapter 17 - The Letter from Behind Bars
I carried the envelope into my home office, my heart beating a little faster against my ribs. I sat down at my mahogany desk, using a silver letter opener to slice through the heavy paper flap.
Inside was a single sheet of lined institutional paper, covered in messy blue ink.
*'Claire,'* the letter began. *'I know you never want to see my face again, and I don't blame you. But before I am transferred to the maximum-security facility in West Virginia, there is something you need to know about the night your mother died—something I didn't tell the detective or the prosecutor during my plea bargain.'*
My breath hitched. I leaned closer to the desk, my eyes scanning the frantic handwriting.
*'Brooke didn't just act alone out of sudden rage. She had help. Six months before the incident, someone else—someone inside my financial network—was advising her on how to access your mother's private medical records and how to acquire the synthetic botanical compound without leaving a traceable credit card paper trail. I thought I was protecting our family secrets, but I was just a pawn in a much larger game that Brooke had been playing since she was a teenager.'*
The letter ended abruptly with a smeared ink stain and a signature: *'Richard.'*
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I sat back in my chair, the paper trembling slightly in my fingers. Another accomplice? Someone inside my father’s business network had helped Brooke orchestrate the murder of our mother and the attempted poisoning on my wedding day?
I picked up my phone and dialed Ethan’s private direct line.
