C17 THE INHERITANCE NO ONE KNEW ABOUT

Isabella read the message again, searching for a meaning that would not lead her back to the same question. What had Richard Sterling left his son that never appeared in the family records? Alexander had shared documents, admitted his father’s involvement in the old partnership, and promised to reveal anything relevant to Daniel’s death. Yet the anonymous sender seemed convinced that something important remained hidden.

She found Alexander in his study shortly after midnight. He was reviewing the report about Victor Hale when she placed her phone on the desk.

The moment he read the message, his expression changed.

Isabella noticed immediately. “You know what it means.”

Alexander put the phone down. He explained that Richard had left him several personal possessions after his death, including watches, letters, and documents unrelated to Sterling Global. Everything had been inventoried by the family solicitor. Nothing had been identified as a secret inheritance.

“That isn't what I asked,” Isabella replied. “What did your father leave you that nobody recorded?”

Alexander remained silent long enough to confirm her suspicion that he was considering what to say.

Finally, he admitted that he had received a small black envelope shortly after Richard’s funeral. It had arrived through a private courier, without a return address. Inside was a brass token and a handwritten instruction telling him to keep it safe until he understood why his father had entrusted it to him.

He had never told anyone about it.

Isabella stared at him. “Not even your solicitor?”

“No. I thought it was a personal keepsake. The message was vague, and I couldn't connect it to anything.”

“Where is it now?”

“In my private safe.”

Her frustration rose. Another clue had existed within Alexander’s reach while she searched through old photographs, letters, and financial records. She understood that he might not have recognised its importance, but the decision to keep it secret had cost them time.

Alexander did not defend himself. He unlocked the safe and removed a small box from the back shelf. Inside lay a brass token engraved with a divided circle, the same symbol Isabella had seen on documents connected to the altered partnership agreement.

She picked it up carefully. One side carried the symbol; the other bore the number 731.

“Did your father explain this?” she asked.

“No. The instruction said only that I should keep it until I understood.”

Isabella turned the token over in her fingers. The number might refer to a date, a file, or a location. She photographed it and compared the symbol with the copies of Daniel’s documents saved on her phone. The shape was identical, including a small break in the circle that she had initially assumed was a printing flaw.

The token had been deliberately made to match the symbol.

Alexander retrieved the handwritten instruction. It contained just one additional sentence: What was taken cannot be returned until both heirs stand together.

Isabella looked up. The message seemed to refer to her and Alexander, but neither knew what had been taken or why they had to stand together to recover it.

She asked whether the token could open a safe or storage compartment. Alexander said he had tried using it as a key without success. It had no teeth or grooves, only a smooth edge and a small indentation near the number.

Isabella examined the indentation under the desk lamp. It was too precise to be accidental. She pressed the point of a pen against it, and a thin metal plate shifted inside the token.

Alexander leaned forward as a narrow compartment opened.

A tiny folded strip of paper slid onto the desk.

Isabella unfolded it. Three words had been written in dark ink: NORTHBRIDGE. ACCOUNT SEVEN.

She recognised Northbridge Holdings from Samuel Reed’s account of the suspicious transactions at Hartwell Designs. The company had appeared in financial records connected to payments that could not be explained. Account Seven might be a bank account, an internal ledger, or a reference to a document hidden somewhere.

Alexander said Northbridge had once been a private holding company used for investments. Sterling Global had dealt with it through intermediaries, but its records were incomplete. He had never seen an account identified by number.

“Your father gave you this because he wanted you to find something,” Isabella said.

“Or because he wanted me to keep it away from someone.”

They decided to search the surviving corporate records for Northbridge Holdings. Alexander accessed Sterling Global’s historical database, but most entries contained only company names and payment references. Account Seven did not appear in the ordinary index.

Isabella opened Daniel’s old financial summaries. She found Northbridge listed beside a transfer made three weeks before her father died. The payment had been described as a consulting expense, but no invoice or service record accompanied it.

Another entry showed a smaller payment to the same company on the day of Daniel’s final meeting with Richard.

The dates were too close to ignore.

Alexander searched for the approval record. It had been signed electronically by a senior administrator, but the name field was blank. The transaction had later been marked as reconciled, although the supporting documents were missing.

Isabella wondered whether the money had been used to conceal the real purpose of the partnership. If someone had diverted funds through Northbridge, the altered agreement might have helped that person gain control of Hartwell Designs while hiding the financial trail.

But the anonymous caller had insisted that money was not the real secret.

Perhaps the transactions were only part of the story.

Alexander contacted his legal department and requested the original Northbridge files. The department confirmed that several records had been transferred to an external archive after the company was dissolved. Retrieval would require authorisation from the former account holder or a court-approved request.

That restriction made Isabella more suspicious. If the records were ordinary business documents, why had access been limited so carefully?

Before Alexander could respond, his security director called. The team had reviewed the access logs connected to Victor Hale and discovered that someone had attempted to retrieve Northbridge records earlier that evening. The request had been rejected because the account was no longer active.

The attempt came from a terminal inside Sterling Global.

Alexander asked for the terminal’s location. It belonged to the executive records department, where only a limited number of employees could access archived financial information.

Martin Cole’s department.

Isabella stood up. “He knows we're getting close.”

“Or someone is using his department to make us suspect him,” Alexander replied.

She disliked the possibility, but she could not dismiss it. The evidence connected Martin to the missing files without proving that he was the person behind the conspiracy. Victor remained a suspect, Robert Mercer had signed the agreement, and Richard had apparently known about a complaint concerning altered financial reports.

Too many people had possessed pieces of the truth.

Alexander asked his security director to preserve the terminal logs and identify the employee who submitted the request. He instructed the team not to confront anyone until they had the full record.

After ending the call, he turned toward Isabella. He admitted that his father had been secretive during his final years. Richard had occasionally disappeared for private meetings and insisted that certain business matters remain outside the company’s official records. Alexander had assumed his father was protecting confidential investments.

Now he wondered whether Richard had been protecting someone.

Isabella looked at the brass token on the desk. “If your father wanted you to find Northbridge, why didn't he leave a clearer explanation?”

“Perhaps he couldn't trust whoever might read it.”

The answer unsettled her. It suggested that Richard had anticipated danger, possibly from someone within his own company. Yet if he had tried to protect Alexander, why had he left Daniel exposed?

She returned the token to its box, but kept the paper strip. They agreed to visit the external archive as soon as the legal team established a legitimate route to the records. In the meantime, Alexander would investigate who had accessed the executive terminal.

Isabella went to bed with the token’s number repeating in her thoughts. At last, she understood that the secret might not be contained in a single contract or letter. It could be hidden across accounts, private records, and decisions made by people who had trusted one another until that trust became dangerous.

Just before dawn, her phone vibrated.

A new message arrived from the unknown sender.

RICHARD DID NOT GIVE YOU THE TOKEN TO FIND THE MONEY. HE GAVE IT TO HIS SON SO THE OTHER HEIR COULD FIND THE TRUTH.

Isabella sat upright.

The other heir could only mean her.

A second message appeared before she could respond.

ACCOUNT SEVEN CONTAINS THE NAME OF THE PERSON WHO CHANGED THE AGREEMENT. BUT IF YOU OPEN IT, YOU WILL LEARN WHY YOUR FATHER WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE THAT MEETING.

Isabella stared at the screen, her pulse quickening. The message offered the clearest connection yet between the missing account and Daniel’s death.

She went to Alexander’s room and knocked. When he opened the door, she showed him the messages and told him they could no longer wait for the ordinary records request.

Alexander read them without speaking. Then he looked at the token in her hand, finally understanding why his father had sent it to him.

Whatever Account Seven contained, Richard had wanted both families represented when it was found.

And someone had just warned them that discovering it could reveal the real reason Daniel Hart died.