Chapter 4
CHAPTER 3 — The Ghost in the Window
Wyatt’s vast resources moved faster than the police ever could.
While the police secured a secondary search warrant for the house, Wyatt hired a team of elite private investigators to dig into Arthur Pendleton’s history.
I spent another week in the hospital, recovering, watching the swelling in my face slowly go down.
When the bandages were finally removed, I stared at myself in the small mirror Wyatt held for me.
A jagged, angry red scar ran from my left eyebrow down to my cheekbone. The skin was bruised in shades of purple and sickly yellow. My eye was bloodshot.
I looked broken.
Tears spilled over my cheeks, stinging the fresh sutures.
“I look like a monster,” I whispered, turning my face away.
Wyatt gently put the mirror down and cupped the uninjured side of my face.
“You look like a survivor, Sadie,” he said fiercely. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. No scar is ever going to change that. I love you.”
He kissed my forehead, right above the bandages, and for the first time since the attack, I felt a genuine spark of hope.
That afternoon, the lead private investigator, a former FBI agent named Vance, arrived at the hospital.
“Mr. Campbell, Miss Davis,” Vance greeted us, pulling up a chair and opening a sleek silver briefcase.
“What did you find?” Wyatt asked, standing behind my bed protectively.
“Sadie’s instincts were absolutely correct,” Vance said grimly. “Arthur Pendleton did not die in a Florida nursing home twenty years ago.”
My stomach plummeted. “He’s alive?”
“We believe so,” Vance nodded. “Arthur Pendleton was a highly successful real estate developer in the 1980s. He amassed a fortune of roughly eight million dollars.”
I gasped. “We grew up middle class. My parents always complained about money.”
“Because they couldn't access the principal of the trust,” Vance explained, pulling out a stack of financial documents.
“When Arthur began showing early signs of physical decline, your mother, Brenda, seized medical power of attorney. She moved him into her home. But she didn't want the state or the rest of the family knowing how much money she had access to.”
“So she faked his death,” Wyatt concluded, disgusted.
“Exactly. She secured a falsified death certificate through a corrupt doctor who lost his license a decade ago. She kept Arthur entirely isolated.”
“But why?” I asked, tears welling in my eyes. “Why keep him locked up for twenty years?”
“Because of the monthly stipend,” Vance said, pointing to a ledger. “As long as Arthur was technically alive, a massive trust fund paid out thirty thousand dollars a month for his ‘medical care and maintenance.’ Your parents have been living off that ghost money for two decades.”
It all made sense. My parents never seemed to keep steady jobs, yet they never lost the house. They bought Melanie expensive cars and designer clothes, spoiling her while I worked two jobs to put myself through college.
“But something changed recently, didn't it?” Wyatt asked sharply.
Vance nodded with a grim smile.
“The trust was designed to dry up. The principal investments took a massive hit during the recent market crash. The monthly payouts stopped three months ago.”
Wyatt and I looked at each other, the horrifying realization dawning on both of us at the same time.
“The money ran out,” I whispered.
“Yes,” Vance said. “Your parents were facing absolute financial ruin. They couldn't sell the house because the deed was still technically tied to Arthur’s estate. They were broke, desperate, and terrified of being audited.”
“And then I sold my company,” Wyatt said, his voice cold and deadly. “I became a millionaire.”
“You were their bailout,” Vance confirmed.
“But Wyatt loved me,” I said.
“And you wouldn't play their game,” Vance replied. “Melanie was the golden child. If she married Wyatt, the parents would have endless access to his wealth. Melanie would gladly share it to keep up her lifestyle. You, Sadie, were the obstacle.”
“So they tried to destroy my face,” I said, my voice trembling with rage. “They thought if I was disfigured, Wyatt would leave me for the beautiful sister.”
Wyatt’s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. “I’m going to ruin them. I’m going to make sure they never see the sky again.”
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
It was Detective Miller.
I put it on speakerphone so Wyatt and Vance could hear.
“Sadie,” Miller’s voice was breathless, entirely stripped of its usual calm demeanor.
“Did you find him?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.
“We found the false wall behind the fruit cellar,” Miller said, the sound of police sirens wailing in the background of the call.
“He’s alive, Sadie. We found Arthur. He’s malnourished, he’s terrified, but he’s alive. The paramedics are rushing him to Columbus Memorial right now.”
May you like
Tears of absolute joy and horror streamed down my face.
“Bring him to my floor, Detective,” I sobbed. “Please, let me see my grandfather.”
