“She confronted Dad,” Caleb continued, his voice shaking violently now. “She told him she had downloaded the complete financial records and structural reports onto an encrypted external drive, and that she was taking them to the state prosecutor’s office this morning. Malcolm tried to buy her silence, but she refused. So last night, he sent Lucas and Julian to get that drive back.”
“They went to our home to rob her of the evidence,” Ethan concluded softly.
“They didn’t mean for it to go that far at first,” Caleb said, looking at the ground in shame. “Lucas demanded the drive. Hannah refused and tried to use her phone to call the police. Julian grabbed her, and she fought back. You know how strong she is, Ethan. She knocked Julian down and ran for the front door. That’s when Lucas panicked. He knocked the door loose trying to block her, and then… they both attacked her until she stopped moving.”
Caleb broke down, burying his face in his hands. “I arrived with Dad twenty minutes later. The place was a disaster. Hannah was barely breathing. Instead of calling an ambulance immediately, Dad spent forty minutes searching the house for the drive. When he couldn’t find it, he made us clean the floor with industrial bleach, wipe every surface, and fake the break-in. He only let us call the authorities after he altered the timeline and paid off the local precinct detective.”
“Where is the drive, Caleb?” Ethan asked, his tone urgent yet commanding. “Did they find it?”
“No,” Caleb sobbed. “Dad was furious. He thought she had hidden it in the house, but Lucas searched every inch before the bleach dried. They couldn’t find anything.”
Ethan recalled the scene in the living room: the scrubbed floor, the aligned furniture, and the single moon-shaped earring resting near the edge of the sofa. Hannah was brilliant, meticulous, and trained to think under pressure. If she knew an attack was imminent, she would not have hidden critical evidence in an obvious safe or desk drawer.
“Thank you, Caleb,” Ethan said, placing a firm hand on the young man’s shoulder. “You did the right thing telling me.”
“What are you going to do?” Caleb asked, panic rising in his eyes. “If Dad finds out I talked—”
“He won’t,” Ethan said. “Go back. Act like nothing happened. Leave the rest to me.”
Ethan left the alley before Caleb could object further. His mind moved rapidly, analyzing the layout of his home. He knew his wife better than anyone. Where would Hannah hide something when seconds counted and her attackers were breaking through the front door?
He drove back toward his neighborhood, parking two blocks away to approach on foot through the wooded park that bordered the rear of his property. He observed the house from the treeline. Two heavy-set men in dark suits sat inside a running SUV parked across the street—Malcolm’s guards, keeping watch in case someone returned for what was left behind.
Ethan slipped silently through the back fence, entering the property via the kitchen garden path. He unlocked the rear patio door using the spare key hidden beneath the flagstone and stepped inside, avoiding the boards that creaked.
The scent of bleach was still heavy in the air. He made his way to the living room, kneeling near the dark stain beneath the edge of the sofa where he had found the earring.
He closed his eyes, visualizing the sequence of events. Hannah had fought near the entrance, was dragged back into the living room, and had fallen near the sofa. The earring had fallen during the struggle. But why near the base of the sofa?
