His Secret Addiction

Chapter Twelve

Damien's Pov

The police station smelled like bad coffee and bleach. Alex sat beside me, his knee bouncing nervously as Detective Chen spread photos across the table.

"These are Eleanor Ross's medical records from her final week," she said. "Her potassium levels spiked forty-eight hours before her death. Dramatically. Enough to induce cardiac arrest in someone with her condition."

Alex grabbed my hand under the table. "You think someone poisoned her?"

"I think someone helped her along." Chen pulled out another document. "Your grandmother changed her will six days before she died. Three days later, she had an unlogged visitor. Two days after that, she was dead."

"Who was the visitor?" I asked.

"We don't know. The security footage was corrupted." She leaned forward. "Did you know she met with Catherine Mills the day before she updated everything?"

My stomach dropped. "What?"

"Forty-minute meeting. Catherine left angry. Two hours later, Eleanor called her lawyer." She looked between us. "We've been investigating financial irregularities at your former company. Money missing from accounts Eleanor controlled. It adds up to three million dollars."

"Catherine's been embezzling?"

"We think Eleanor found out. Hence the meeting, the sudden change to protect assets Catherine couldn't touch." Chen stood. "We need you to go through your grandmother's financial records."

We left the station in a daze.

"Catherine killed Eleanor," Alex said in the cab.

My phone rang. Catherine. I answered.

"Damien, we need to meet. There's something about Eleanor's estate I need to discuss. Tonight. My office, eight PM." She hung up.

Alex stared at me. "You're not actually going."

"We need to know what she knows." I called Maya. "I need you to do something potentially illegal. Get into Catherine's office tonight during my meeting with her. Eight PM. Find anything connecting her to Eleanor's finances."

"You're using yourself as bait," Alex said. "No."

"You have a better idea?"

At seven-thirty, we arrived at the building. Maya was waiting.

"I'll wait until you go in," she said. "Then I've got thirty minutes before security rounds."

We rode the elevator to Catherine's floor.

"Damien. Alex. I wasn't expecting both of you." Catherine sat behind her desk. "I've been reviewing Eleanor's estate distribution. I found discrepancies—missing funds. About three million dollars."

"You're saying Eleanor was embezzling from her own company?"

"Someone with access to her accounts was." She slid a folder across. "To offshore accounts in your name, Damien."

I opened it. Bank statements, transfer receipts, all with my signature.

"These are forged," I said.

"Then who did it? Eleanor's dead. Someone has to be responsible."

Alex moved forward. "Where were you the day Eleanor changed her will?"

"I visited her. We discussed the company's future."

"You argued with her."

"We had a disagreement. Nothing unusual."

"And two days later she was dead with spiked potassium levels," I said. "The police are investigating her death as suspicious."

Catherine went very still. "Who told you that?"

"The police."

For the first time, Catherine looked rattled. "That's absurd."

"Is it? You found out she knew about the embezzlement. You argued. You killed her before she could expose you. Then you framed me and played the generous ally." I stepped closer. "Did I miss anything?"

"You're insane."

"Then you won't mind if we have her body exhumed for a full toxicology screening."

Her face went pale. "You can't do that."

"Actually, as her primary heir, I can."

Catherine laughed and pulled a gun from her desk drawer. "Eleanor always said you were smart but naive."

Alex grabbed my arm. "Catherine—"

"Shut up. Both of you, sit down."

We sat.

"You're going to sign over your shares of both companies to me. Then you're going to leave New York and never come back."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll release these documents showing your embezzlement. Your reputation will be destroyed. You'll face criminal charges." She smiled. "Sign."

"No," I said.

The door burst open. Maya stood there with her phone up, recording.

"Or you'll what?" Maya said. "The police are listening."

Catherine swung the gun toward Maya. Alex lunged across the desk, grabbing her wrist. The gun went off, the bullet hitting the ceiling. I tackled Catherine from the side.

Security burst in seconds later, followed by Detective Chen and two officers.

"Catherine Mills, you're under arrest for the murder of Eleanor Ross and embezzlement," Chen said.

"You can't prove anything," Catherine spat.

"Actually, we can." Chen held up a flash drive. "Your assistant came forward with copies of everything. The fake documents, the offshore accounts, the potassium chloride you ordered. It's over."

They led Catherine away.

Detective Chen came back. "Off the record? Eleanor knew something was wrong but couldn't prove it before she died. That's why she changed the will—to protect you and give you the resources to fight back."

"She set up a trap from beyond the grave," Alex said.

We went back to our apartment and sat in silence.

Finally, Alex said, "Your grandmother arranged her own death investigation."

"Apparently."

"Can we have one month where nobody tries to kill us?"

"I'll pencil it in."

We spent the next week giving statements and watching the news explode. Our subsidiary suddenly looked stable. We got seven new clients in three days.

An email arrived from the estate lawyer. "She left one more thing. Another letter."

We opened it together.

"Damien and Alex—if you're reading this, Catherine showed her hand and you survived. Good. Now stop being dramatic and run the company I built. Take risks. Break rules. Build something that matters. Love, Eleanor."

Alex laughed. "Even dead, she's managing everything."

My phone rang. Eleanor's estate attorney. "We found something in her safe deposit box. Another envelope, labeled 'Open only if Catherine is arrested.' And a video message. When can you come in?"

"Tomorrow morning."

At nine AM, the lawyer handed us a laptop with a video file.

I pressed play.

Eleanor's face filled the screen.

"Hello, boys. If you're watching this, Catherine finally made her move and you caught her. Congratulations. Now, let me tell you what actually happened. Catherine's been embezzling for three years. I've known two. I let it continue because I was building a case. The will changes, the arguments, my 'suspicious' death—all designed to flush her out after I was gone. You two became the bait. I'm sorry for that, but I knew you'd figure it out. The company is yours now. All of it. Build something better. Love you both."

The video ended.

"She let herself be murdered to catch Catherine," Alex said.

The lawyer cleared his throat. "There's also this." He handed us a checkbook. "Twelve million dollars. Eleanor's personal savings."

Six months later, we opened the Eleanor Ross Center for l***q+ Youth in Manhattan. The board tried to argue it was off-brand.

We reminded them we owned sixty percent of the company.

The center opened to huge press coverage. Our business tripled.

"Do you think she knew?" Alex asked at the opening ceremony. "That we'd end up here?"

"Definitely. She planned everything else."

My phone rang. Maya.

"Turn on the news. Right now."

The headline read: "Catherine Mills Found Dead in Holding Cell—Apparent Suicide."

But underneath: "Investigators Find Evidence of Second Conspirator Still at Large."

Alex grabbed my hand. "Damien…."

"I know.”