Chapter 5 - What Adrian Wanted
Adrian did not want the hundred million.
Not originally.
That revelation changed the investigation.
He wanted Orpheus.
Samuel reconstructed deleted corporate messages from the encrypted drive.
Adrian had spent almost a year searching for Facility 12.
He believed the original Orpheus source architecture was stored there.
But why?
I had personally ordered it destroyed.
Then we discovered the hidden invoices.
Thomas had continued funding Orpheus after I shut it down.
Fourteen years.
Millions of dollars.
Secretly.
My closest friend had lied to me for more than a decade.
Samuel found one encrypted message from Thomas:
If Evelyn learns what Orpheus became, everything ends.
I read it three times.
“Everything” could mean the company.
Or something worse.
Meanwhile Adrian began publicly rewriting my story.
He announced that I had become cognitively impaired after my stroke.
Celeste gave interviews describing herself as “heartbroken.”
They claimed I had voluntarily left the mansion.
Adrian even reported me missing.
Then he petitioned the court for emergency control over my remaining assets.
Rosa watched the television.
“He threw you outside.”
“Yes.”
“And now he’s pretending to search for you?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head.
“He’s disgusting.”
“Also predictable.”
That was useful.
I called Adrian.
He answered instantly.
“Where are you?”
“Safe.”
“You’re confused.”
“No.”
“You need medical supervision.”
“I have it.”
His voice hardened.
“Who are you with?”
I ignored the question.
“Thomas Bell.”
Silence.
There.
The smallest hesitation.
“Who?”
“My chief security officer.”
“Your former employee?”
“My missing friend.”
Adrian laughed.
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“Then you won’t mind if the FBI asks.”
His breathing changed.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“You hate scandal.”
“I hated losing you too.”
Silence.
Then:
“You’re sick, Evelyn.”
Not Mom.
Evelyn.
“You have no idea what you’re doing.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing.”
I disconnected.
Three hours later, Samuel called.
Adrian had discovered the trust.
I had expected excitement.
Instead, Samuel sounded frightened.
“How?”
“He filed a fraudulent beneficiary claim.”
“He can’t access it.”
“No.”
“But now he knows the value.”
“One hundred million.”
“Yes.”
Perfect.
The bait was visible.
But Samuel continued:
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“The trust received an unauthorized amendment request eighteen months ago.”
“From Adrian?”
“No.”
“Thomas?”
“No.”
Samuel swallowed.
“It carried your digital signature.”
Impossible.
I had never amended it.
“Who was the proposed beneficiary?”
Samuel turned the document toward me.
I expected Adrian.
Perhaps Celeste.
Instead I saw a name I had not spoken in twenty-six years.
David Shaw.
May you like
My biological son.
The child everyone—including Adrian—believed had died when he was six.
