I became a private driver for a wealthy widow because I needed money after she accused me of stealing, I found a hidden note from her in the car and was left stunned.

My hands were shaking.

The box sat on the passenger seat.

I grabbed my phone and called Mrs. Whitmore.

She answered immediately.

“Are you safe?”

“For now.”

“Good. Listen carefully. You cannot go home.”

“Why?”

“Because my son knows where you live.”

I stared through the windshield.

“Mrs. Whitmore, tell me the truth. What exactly did my father discover?”

She was silent for several seconds.

“Your father discovered that my

husband wasn’t the man everyone believed him to be.”

I swallowed.

“What does that mean?”

“He had been moving company money into private accounts for years. Your father found the records and confronted him.”

“And then?”

“He was threatened.”

“By your husband?”

“No.”

Her voice became quieter.

“By my son.”

I closed my eyes.

Her son.