All Chapters of Too Late, Mr. Cross: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

*Elena's POV* I didn't tell Michael anything until we got home. He was in the kitchen when I brought out the photograph and showed it to him. Michael read the back of the photograph twice before he asked me to tell him exactly what Evelyn had said. I had expected questions. I had not expected the careful way he placed the photograph on the kitchen counter, as though touching it for too long might damage something. "She said the man following you is called Julian Vale?" "Yes." "And you believed her?" "I believed that she knew his name. Those are different things." He nodded and reached for his phone. "I can have someone run him tonight." "You already have someone running him, don't you?" His thumb paused over the screen. "I made calls after the prenatal class." "Michael." "You were being followed. I was left with no choice." "I'm aware of that. You don’t have to say it to my face." "Then why are you saying my name like I committed a crime?" "Because every time I discove

*Elena's POV* Michael came through the office door before Thomas could answer me. He must have convinced someone downstairs that my instruction to wait did not apply once he had the information I needed, because Evelyn looked at him, then at me, and wisely decided not to become involved. Michael stopped beside my chair. "You saw the message?" "Rosalie's executive office." "Yes." Thomas leaned toward his camera. "What exactly are we discussing?" I turned my phone so he could see Michael's trace. "Someone called the woman producing my collection and asked who was financing me, where I was working, and whether Williams was my real name. The call came through Cross Group." Michael placed a printed report on the table. "More specifically, a private line assigned to Rosalie Lamarkos's executive suite. The outgoing call was logged at eleven nineteen last Thursday." Evelyn read the page. "Assigned to Rosalie personally?" "To the office suite. Her assistant's credentials were used."

Elena's POV Dr. Fournier called at six in the morning because she had forgotten the time difference and then apologized three times while I tried to decide whether I was awake enough to understand the sentence she was repeating. "There was a second vehicle," she said. I sat upright in bed. "What second vehicle?" "The original police summary mentions only your father's car leaving the road. The scene inventory does not. There were fragments of red automotive paint on the rear left panel that did not match Adrian's vehicle." I reached for the notebook beside my bed. "Was another car found?" "No." "Then how do they know it was from another vehicle?" "The laboratory report identified the paint as belonging to a model manufactured by a different company. The supplemental page was removed from the copy later sent to the estate." My pen stopped. "Removed by whom?" "The archive does not say. However, a notation indicates the report was released to Victor Hale three days after the

Elena’s POV Martin took my phone from my hand only because I had stopped looking at it. He read Dr. Fournier’s message once, then lowered the screen. “Elena.” “My father was not in that grave.” He placed the phone carefully on his desk. “What do you want to do?” I looked at the photographs scattered between us: Victor Hale and Jonathan Henderson leaving the same hotel in Geneva, bank transfers that had crossed three companies before reaching Hale, Richard’s private report about a Henderson-owned vehicle following him in Connecticut. An hour ago, those documents had been evidence surrounding a dead man. Now they were evidence surrounding a disappearance. “I want to know who was buried under my father’s name.” Martin pulled his chair closer. “Dr. Fournier can pursue that.” “And I want every record after the crash searched again.” “Which records?” “Bank accounts. Passports. Property. Hospitals. Immigration. Anything attached to Adrian Williams or any identity he might have

Damian’s POV Ethan placed the file in front of me without sitting down. That was the first indication that whatever he had found would be unpleasant. The second was the way he kept one hand on the back of the chair as though he had not decided whether remaining in the office was wise. “What is it?” “We have the beneficial ownership trail.” I stopped signing the document in front of me. “For Williams Holdings?” “Yes.” “Finally.” I pushed the contract aside. “Who owns it?” Ethan opened the file. “Legally, Williams Holdings is controlled through a family trust. Until recently, voting rights were dispersed among trustees.” “I know that part.” “The succession provisions have now activated.” I looked up. “Because of what?” “Your divorce.” I leaned back. At this point, I had stopped believing any connection between Elena and my company could surprise me. “Who is the beneficiary?” Ethan did not answer immediately. I tapped one finger against the desk. “You have spent we