Chapter 3
The second voice belonged to Thaddeus.
Not because Dashiell said so.
Because I knew it.
I had heard that man complain, whisper, lie, laugh, and flatter his way through family dinners for ten years.
Even distorted by distance, the rhythm was his.
Still, recognition was not proof of what happened.
So I asked a better question.
“Why were you with Julian?”
Thaddeus looked at Winifred.
She answered.
“Business.”
“What business?”
“Private.”
I leaned back.
“My husband died an hour later.”
Her face tightened.
“Which doesn’t make Thaddeus responsible.”
Interesting.
I had not accused him.
Yet.
“What was Julian asking him to return?”
Silence.
The recording.
Give it back.
Thaddeus finally spoke.
“A ledger.”
Of course.
Families like ours hide entire wars behind books.
“What ledger?”
“The Pemberton accounts.”
My late husband was born a Pemberton before marrying into Bramwell leadership through me.
Winifred was his mother.
Thaddeus his younger brother.
The Pemberton branch handled several estate funds and private support accounts.
Julian had apparently discovered irregular transfers.
Not theft from me.
Not exactly.
Money moved from Bramwell-controlled support funds into businesses associated with Thaddeus.
He confronted him privately.
“Why didn’t Julian tell me?”
Winifred laughed bitterly.
“Because he was protecting you.”
I hated that immediately.
Dead men always become convenient motives.
“From what?”
“From learning your husband was planning to leave Bramwell operations.”
That struck harder.
“What?”
Julian had wanted out.
Not from me.
From the organization.
He planned to remain my husband.
Dashiell’s father.
But he no longer wanted responsibility inside Bramwell.
He had told Winifred first.
Then Thaddeus.
Not me.
My anger arrived alongside grief.
Both allowed.
Thaddeus claimed the ledger proved Julian had been preparing financial separation.
I stared.
“Then why did he tell you to give it back?”
No answer.
Winifred’s phone vibrated.
One message appeared on-screen.
DELETE ROUND FILES BEFORE AURELIA HEARS THE ORIGINAL.
No name.
Only initials.
E.P.
I knew them.
Edmund Pemberton.
Winifred’s older brother.
May you like
The family elder who had spent eleven months telling me Julian’s death was something we should “stop reopening.”
Apparently he had never stopped reopening it himself.
