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He turned.
His mother stood at the entrance of the drawing room. She looked older than she had the day before. Her pride had cracked, but it had not vanished.
“I need to speak with you,” Margaret said. “Both of you.”
Emily stiffened.
Nathan’s tone became cold. “Not now.”
“Yes,” Margaret said. “Now.”
There was something in her voice that made him pause.
Margaret looked at Emily, and for once there was no insult in her eyes. Only fear.
“I heard the name Raymond Cole last night,” she said. “I pretended I didn’t know it.”
Emily’s heart gave a sick thud.
Nathan narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
Margaret swallowed.
“Twenty years ago, your father did business in West Virginia. Quiet business. Land purchases. Labor contracts. Men who could make problems disappear.”
Nathan’s face darkened. “Mother.”
Margaret’s hands trembled.
“One of those men was named Raymond Cole.”
Emily stared at her.
The room seemed to shrink.
Margaret continued, each word heavier than the last.
“And last night, when he stood in my foyer, I recognized him.”
Nathan took a slow step back.
“No.”
Margaret’s eyes filled, but she did not look away.
“There is more,” she whispered. “After your father died, I locked away his private files. I never opened them. I didn’t want to know. But this morning, after hearing that man’s name…”
She held out a small black ledger.
Nathan did not move.
Emily took it first.
Her fingers shook as she opened the cover.
Inside were lists of payments.
Dates.
Initials.
Locations.
Then she saw three names written on a recent loose page tucked inside the back.
Johnny Cole.
Paul Cole.
Lily Cole.
Beside them was a single line:
Transferred pending confirmation.
Emily stopped breathing.
Nathan looked over her shoulder.
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