Chapter 14 - RYAN'S DEBT
Grant blamed himself.
For once, I agreed with him.
“If I hadn't introduced Ryan to Elizabeth—”
“But you did.”
“I know.”
“Then help us fix it.”
Police traced the phone.
Nothing.
Prepaid.
No useful prints.
Elizabeth knew what she was doing.
Then Ryan called.
His voice sounded weak.
“Penelope.”
“Ryan?”
Grant grabbed my arm.
I put the phone on speaker.
“Where are you?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Are you hurt?”
Silence.
“Ryan?”
“I did something stupid.”
Grant leaned toward the phone.
“Ryan, listen to me.”
“No.”
Ryan's voice broke.
“Not you.”
Grant froze.
“I want Penelope.”
I swallowed.
“I'm here.”
“I didn't steal the schedule eight years ago.”
“What?”
“I gave it to Elizabeth.”
“Why?”
“Because I owed her.”
“For what?”
Ryan began crying.
“She paid my debts.”
Grant closed his eyes.
Apparently he knew.
“What debts?” I asked.
“Gambling.”
I stared at Grant.
“You knew?”
“Not how bad.”
Ryan continued.
“I owed people almost three hundred thousand dollars. Elizabeth paid them. Then she owned me.”
“And you helped Grant forge my trust documents.”
“Yes.”
“Was that her idea?”
“Yes.”
Everything shifted.
Grant had been guilty.
But he had never been the only architect.
Elizabeth had been pushing from the shadows.
“Where are you now?”
“I can't—”
A sound interrupted him.
A door.
Ryan whispered:
“I'm sorry.”
The call ended.
Police traced it to an abandoned industrial area.
They found the phone.
No Ryan.
But they found blood.
Not enough to indicate a fatal injury.
Enough to terrify Grant.
That night, he sat outside my house.
Not inside.
On the front steps.
I opened the door.
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting.”
“For?”
“I don't know.”
I studied him.
“You can't stay here.”
“I know.”
“Then go home.”
He looked at the street.
“She knows where the children live.”
My stomach tightened.
“We have security.”
“I know.”
“Grant.”
He looked at me.
“If anything happens to them because of something I started—”
“Stop.”
He became silent.
“You don't get to turn guilt into heroism.”
His face changed.
“I'm not.”
“Yes, you are. You're imagining some dramatic sacrifice that makes everything balance.”
I stepped outside.
“It doesn't.”
“I know.”
“You don't erase what you did by getting hurt.”
“I know.”
“You fix it by staying useful.”
For the first time, he almost smiled.
“That sounds like you.”
“It should.”
I folded my arms.
“I spent years becoming me again.”
The smile disappeared.
“I'm glad.”
I believed him.
That surprised me.
Then headlights appeared at the end of the street.
A car stopped.
Nobody exited.
Grant stood.
My security officer approached.
The driver's door opened.
Ryan stumbled out.
Blood covered his shirt.
Grant ran.
“Ryan!”
Ryan collapsed.
We called an ambulance.
Before they loaded him inside, he grabbed my wrist.
“She isn't after the money.”
“What?”
His eyes were unfocused.
“The trust.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
He tightened his grip.
“That's not what she wants.”
“Then what?”
Ryan looked toward my house.
Toward the upstairs windows.
Toward my children.
“She wants the company.”
“What company?”
May you like
He whispered:
“The one you don't know you own.”
