THE BABY WAS SUPPOSED TO CARRY HIS NAME—UNTIL HIS EX-WIFE OPENED THE ALBUM

For several seconds, Nyla couldn't hear anything except the pounding of her own heart.

Her father hadn't died naturally?

She stared at Russell.

"Take that back.""

Russell adjusted his jacket.

"I said what I said.""

Preston stepped between them.

"What happened to Thomas?""

Russell looked at his son.

"Your father was involved in things you don't understand.""

"Stop calling him my father.""

Russell's expression tightened.

"Fine. Thomas Carter was a dangerous man.""

Nyla shook her head.

"My father never hurt anyone.""

"How would you know? You were his little girl. He told you what he wanted you to believe.""

Nyla approached him.

"How did he die?""

Russell looked away.

"Ask the police.""

"I did. He died from complications after surgery.""

"That's what the report says.""

Nyla felt her knees weaken.

Preston caught her elbow.

She immediately pulled away.

"Don't.""

He stepped back.

Russell watched them with a cold expression.

"Your father had a heart condition. He needed surgery. Things went wrong. It happens.""

Nyla's voice broke.

"Then why are you bringing it up?""

Russell didn't answer.

Instead, he reached into his jacket and removed a folded piece of paper.

"Because Thomas was investigating the Mitchell family accounts before he died.""

He placed the paper on the coffee table.

It was a copy of an old business agreement.

Nyla picked it up.

At the bottom was her father's signature.

Beside it was Russell's.

But what caught her attention was the date.

Three days before Thomas entered the hospital.

"What's this?"" she asked.

Russell shrugged.

"An agreement.""

Preston snatched it.

His eyes moved over the document.

It stated that Thomas had agreed to transfer his remaining shares in Mitchell Holdings to Russell in exchange for a financial settlement.

But the signature looked wrong.

Preston knew his father's signature.

He also knew Thomas's handwriting from the ledger.

"This isn't right," he said.

Russell's face hardened.

"Put it down.""

"Thomas didn't sign this.""

"You weren't there.""

"Neither were you, apparently, if you need to forge his signature.""

Russell stepped forward.

"Watch yourself.""

Nyla looked at the paper.

Then at Russell.

"My father was already in the hospital when this was supposedly signed.""

Russell said nothing.

Preston turned toward him.

"Did you forge it?""

Russell straightened his shoulders.

"I protected the company.""

"By stealing from a dying man?""

"By protecting everything your grandfather built!""

Preston shook his head.

"You're unbelievable.""

Russell moved toward the door.

"You're both emotional. When you've calmed down, you'll understand why I made those decisions.""

Nyla pointed at the door.

"Get out.""

Russell stared at her.

"You don't have the authority to throw me out of anything.""

"You're standing in my home.""

He looked at the two men who had accompanied him.

"Let's go.""

Before leaving, he turned toward Preston.

"Think about your future. You still have a family to protect.""

Preston looked at him.

"You should have thought about that before destroying mine.""

Russell left.

The door closed.

For a long moment, nobody spoke.

Then Nyla sank onto the sofa.

"My father was alone in that hospital.""

Preston sat several feet away.

"I know.""

"No. You don't.""

She looked at him.

"He called me the night before his surgery. He said he was afraid. I told him everything would be fine.""

Her eyes filled.

"I promised I would visit him the next morning. But I was working. I arrived after the surgery.""

She covered her mouth.

"He was already gone.""

Preston lowered his head.

Nyla wiped her cheeks.

"And now you're telling me that man might have had something to do with it?""

"I'll find out.""

"Don't make promises you can't keep.""

Preston nodded.

Then he looked at the blue ledger.

"We need that recording.""

Two hours later, Preston and Nyla stood outside the Mitchell estate.

The house was a sprawling brick property in North Dallas, surrounded by trimmed hedges and iron fencing.

Preston had grown up there.

He had learned to ride a bicycle on the driveway, celebrated birthdays beneath the oak trees, and watched his mother decorate the house every Christmas.

Now he stood outside wondering how much of his childhood had been manufactured.

Aunt Denise met them at the front entrance.

She looked exhausted.

"He's gone," she whispered.

"Where?""

"Russell went to his club. Brianna called me. She said you were coming.""

Preston stepped inside.

"Where's the safe?""

"Study.""

Denise led them down the hallway.

The walls were covered with family photographs.

Preston stopped in front of one.

His mother was holding him as a baby.

Russell stood beside her.

The photograph had always made him feel safe.

Now he couldn't look at it without feeling sick.

In the study, Denise opened the bottom drawer of Russell's desk.

A small metal safe sat behind a row of accounting books.

"Do you know the combination?"" Preston asked.

Denise nodded.

"Margaret's birthday.""

Preston entered the numbers.

The safe opened.

Inside were documents, an old watch, several envelopes, and a small digital recorder.

Nyla picked up the recorder.

A strip of masking tape was attached to its back.

Written on it were the words:

*IF PRESTON EVER FINDS THIS, LET HIM LISTEN.*

Preston pressed play.

Static filled the room.

Then Margaret's voice emerged.

"Russell, I know what you did.""

A man's voice answered.

"You're imagining things.""

"I saw the transfer documents.""

"Those documents are confidential.""

"You forged Thomas's signature.""

Silence.

Then Russell spoke.

"He was going to take everything.""

Margaret began crying.

"He was Nyla's father.""

"And my company was his obsession!""

"Thomas wanted what belonged to him.""

"He wanted you!""

Margaret's voice became sharper.

"Thomas never wanted your company. He wanted his son to know who he was.""

Preston closed his eyes.

Then came a sentence that made everyone in the room freeze.

Russell said:

"Thomas should have stayed away from that hospital.""

Nyla grabbed Preston's arm.

The recording continued.

Margaret whispered, "What did you do?""

Russell answered:

"I made sure he wouldn't be able to testify.""

The audio crackled.

A chair scraped.

Then Margaret spoke again.

"You're a monster.""

Russell's voice became cold.

"And you're going to keep your mouth shut if you want Preston to have a future.""

The recording ended.

Preston stood motionless.

Nyla's face had gone pale.

Denise covered her mouth.

Then the recorder clicked again.

There was another file.

Preston pressed play.

This time, Margaret was speaking alone.

"My son, if you are listening to this, I need you to understand that Russell's greatest fear isn't losing money. It's losing control of the Mitchell name.""

She paused.

"And there is one final truth I have not been able to tell you.""

Preston leaned closer.

Margaret continued.

"Your birth certificate was changed. The original hospital record contains a second witness signature.""

A brief silence.

Then she said the name.

"That witness was Brianna's mother.""

Preston looked up.

"What?""

Nyla turned toward Denise.

But Denise was staring at the open doorway.