Chapter 12 — The Trap Set for Amy
Chapter 12 — The Trap Set for Amy
The moment I heard Teresa's voice on the recording, everything inside me went cold.
I'm sorry, Connor.
Not help me.
Not run.
Not stop him.
Just four words.
Words that sounded like a goodbye.
I played the recording again.
Train.
Water.
Church bells.
Then Teresa.
I'm sorry, Connor.
Amy stood beside me, pale.
“Connor…”
I looked at her.
“Thomas has been communicating with my mother.”
“But why?”
“I don't know.”
Harris took the recorder from my hand.
“We need to move.”
“Where?”
“Home.”
My heart stopped.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because that's exactly where Thomas wants us to go.”
Harris frowned.
“What do you mean?”
I replayed the recording.
The crying baby.
Amy's voice.
Then Teresa.
The recording had been designed to make me panic.
To make me rush home.
To make me make a mistake.
Thomas knew I would do anything for my son.
He was counting on that.
I looked at Amy.
“Where is Frederick?”
“With Rebecca.”
I called Rebecca.
She answered immediately.
“Connor?”
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
My heart sank.
“Leave.”
“What?”
“Leave the house.”
“Why?”
“Now.”
Amy grabbed my arm.
“What happened?”
I looked at her.
“Thomas wants us to believe Frederick was taken.”
Rebecca went silent.
Then she whispered:
“Connor…”
“What?”
“There is someone outside.”
My blood froze.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Don't open the door.”
“It's too late.”
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone.
Then it rang again.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Thomas's voice came through.
“You should have gone home.”
I said nothing.
“Your wife is there.”
“Where is my son?”
“Safe.”
“Let me speak to him.”
“You don't trust me?”
“No.”
He laughed.
“You're learning.”
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want what your father stole.”
“The trust?”
“Yes.”
“You're never getting it.”
“You're wrong.”
His voice became colder.
“Because you will give it to me willingly.”
“How?”
He paused.
“Through Amy.”
The line went dead.
We raced home.
The police were already there.
Rebecca stood outside with Frederick.
Amy ran to them.
She took our son into her arms.
He was crying.
But he was safe.
I kissed his forehead.
Then looked at Rebecca.
“What happened?”
She shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“Then who was outside?”
“We don't know.”
Harris searched the property.
No one.
No vehicle.
No footprints.
Nothing.
It was as if the person had never existed.
Then Rebecca noticed something.
“Connor.”
“What?”
She pointed toward the front door.
A small white envelope had been slipped underneath it.
My name was written across the front.
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Amy.
Walking alone.
Taken that morning.
On the back:
Tomorrow. 10:00 a.m.
Then another line:
She comes alone.
I felt rage rise inside me.
Thomas wasn't threatening my family anymore.
He was targeting my wife.
Amy looked at the photograph.
“That's me.”
“Yes.”
“When was this taken?”
“Today.”
She looked at me.
“He's been following me.”
I nodded.
She swallowed.
“What does he want?”
“You.”
She looked confused.
“Me?”
“He needs you to do something.”
“What?”
I looked at the letter.
“I don't know.”
Then my phone rang.
Thomas again.
“Did you get the photograph?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“What do you want?”
“Amy will come to the old St. Mary's parking lot tomorrow at ten.”
“No.”
“She will.”
“I'm not letting my wife walk into a trap.”
“You won't have a choice.”
“Try me.”
Thomas laughed.
“You still don't understand.”
“What?”
“Your father didn't hide the trust because he wanted to protect you.”
I said nothing.
“He hid it because the beneficiary had to make a decision.”
“What decision?”
“Whether to save himself or save someone else.”
My blood went cold.
Thomas continued.
“Tomorrow, Amy will have to choose.”
“Choose what?”
“Your family.”
He hung up.
That night, we barely slept.
Amy sat beside Frederick's crib.
I stood by the window.
“She's not going.”
Amy looked at me.
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
I turned.
“You're not going anywhere near him.”
She stood.
“Connor.”
“No.”
“You can't control this.”
“I can protect you.”
“By making decisions for me?”
I froze.
She walked toward me.
“That's what your mother did.”
“That isn't fair.”
“Isn't it?”
I looked away.
She continued.
“You spent years trusting people who made decisions for you.”
“I won't let Thomas do that.”
“Then don't.”
She took my hand.
“Let me help.”
I stared at her.
“He wants you.”
“Then we use that.”
I understood.
“You want to set a trap.”
She nodded.
“But we need to know what he's after.”
“The trust.”
“That's what he says.”
“But you don't believe him.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if money were all he wanted, he could have taken it years ago.”
Amy looked toward Frederick.
“What does he really want?”
I thought about the notebook.
The photographs.
The surveillance.
The obsession with my father.
Then it hit me.
“Revenge.”
Amy nodded.
“Exactly.”
At 2:00 a.m., Rebecca found something.
A hidden camera had been installed inside our house.
Behind a smoke detector.
It had been watching the nursery.
I stared at the device.
“How long?”
“According to the memory card, three months.”
Three months.
Someone had watched my son sleep.
Someone had watched Amy breastfeed him.
Someone had watched us argue.
Someone had watched every private moment.
I felt sick.
Harris examined it.
“This isn't amateur equipment.”
“Who installed it?”
“We're checking.”
Then Rebecca found another.
Inside the hallway.
Then another.
In the kitchen.
Then another.
Four cameras.
All transmitting.
The person watching us had known everything.
Our routines.
Our schedules.
Our arguments.
Our weaknesses.
Then we found the fifth camera.
It was inside my office.
And beside it was a small recording device.
The device contained hundreds of hours of audio.
I played the newest file.
Thomas's voice.
“She's isolated.”
A second voice answered.
Daniel.
“Not completely.”
Thomas:
“She will be.”
Daniel:
“What about Connor?”
Thomas:
“Connor is predictable.”
I clenched my fists.
Daniel continued:
“And Teresa?”
Thomas laughed.
“Teresa will do exactly what she's told.”
Amy looked at me.
“They're still working together.”
I nodded.
Then we heard something else.
A third voice.
My mother.
“Connor will never surrender the trust.”
Thomas answered:
“Then we make him believe Amy betrayed him.”
Silence.
Amy's face went pale.
The trap wasn't physical.
It was psychological.
Thomas didn't need to kidnap Amy.
He wanted to destroy my trust in her.
The next morning, the first attack came.
A news story appeared online.
Construction Engineer Connor Bradley Accused of Financial Fraud.
I stared at the headline.
The article claimed millions had disappeared from my company.
It included bank records.
Forged documents.
And photographs of Amy.
The story implied that Amy had been involved.
Then came the second headline.
Bradley Family Marriage in Crisis Amid Financial Scandal.
The third:
Sources Claim Wife Controlled Family Finances.
Amy read them in silence.
“This is a lie.”
“I know.”
But then she saw something.
A document.
Her signature.
Authorizing a transfer.
She stared at it.
“I never signed this.”
I took it.
The signature looked perfect.
Almost too perfect.
Rebecca examined it.
“Forgery.”
But the damage had already begun.
People were calling.
Clients.
Employees.
Banks.
Investors.
Everyone wanted answers.
Thomas had launched a public attack.
He wanted to make me look guilty.
And Amy look complicit.
Then the police arrived.
Two officers.
They asked for Amy.
My heart stopped.
“Why?”
“We have a warrant.”
“For what?”
“Financial fraud.”
Amy stepped forward.
“I didn't do anything.”
The officer looked uncomfortable.
“Mrs. Bradley, please come with us.”
I stood between them.
“She isn't going anywhere.”
“Connor.”
Harris stepped forward.
“Wait.”
He examined the warrant.
His expression changed.
“This warrant is based on fraudulent evidence.”
The officer frowned.
“What?”
Harris pointed to the document.
“The signature was notarized after the alleged transaction.”
The officer looked at it.
Then at me.
“We'll verify.”
They left.
Amy sat down.
Her hands were shaking.
“He wants to make me look guilty.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“So when you disappear tomorrow, everyone will believe you ran.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
Thomas's plan became clear.
He wanted Amy to disappear.
Then he'd blame her.
He'd make it look like she stole money and abandoned the family.
And once she was gone—
he would come after me.
We decided to use his plan against him.
Amy would go to St. Mary's.
But she wouldn't go alone.
Police would surround the area.
Every vehicle would be monitored.
Every phone call recorded.
Every entrance covered.
And most importantly—
Thomas would believe he had won.
At 9:45 a.m., Amy got into the car.
She looked at me.
“You trust me?”
“With my life.”
“And Frederick?”
“With everything.”
She smiled faintly.
“Then we're going to end this.”
I kissed her.
“Come back.”
“I will.”
The old church was empty.
Amy entered the parking lot alone.
A black SUV arrived three minutes later.
The passenger door opened.
Teresa stepped out.
Amy froze.
“Your mother?”
I watched from a surveillance vehicle across the street.
Teresa approached her.
“Amy.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to warn you.”
“About Thomas?”
Teresa nodded.
“He doesn't want the money.”
“What does he want?”
“You.”
Amy stepped backward.
“Why?”
“Because your father-in-law left something in your name.”
Amy stared at her.
“My name?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Teresa reached into her purse.
“A letter.”
She handed it to Amy.
Amy opened it.
Her face changed.
Then she looked toward the church.
“What's inside?”
Teresa whispered:
“The truth about your marriage.”
Amy looked confused.
“My marriage?”
“Your father arranged it.”
“What?”
“Your father chose Connor's wife before Connor ever met her.”
Amy's face went white.
“That isn't possible.”
“It is.”
I watched from the car.
My heart was pounding.
This was a lie.
I knew it.
But I didn't know why Teresa was saying it.
Then a voice came through the surveillance channel.
“Target moving.”
A black sedan approached.
Thomas.
Finally.
The police prepared.
But Thomas didn't stop.
He drove straight past the church.
Amy looked confused.
Then Teresa grabbed her arm.
“Run!”
Amy pulled away.
“What are you doing?”
“Get inside!”
The church doors opened.
A man stepped out.
Daniel.
He held a gun.
Everything happened at once.
Police surrounded the area.
“Drop the weapon!”
Daniel froze.
Thomas's car screeched to a stop.
He stepped out.
Then smiled.
“You actually thought I'd come personally?”
My heart sank.
The man in the car wasn't Thomas.
It was someone else.
A decoy.
The real Thomas was nowhere in sight.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Thomas said:
“Connor.”
“Where are you?”
“At your house.”
My blood froze.
“What?”
“I told you.”
He laughed.
“I don't need Amy.”
I looked toward the surveillance screen.
Frederick was at home.
Rebecca was there.
But suddenly her camera feed went black.
“Thomas.”
“Go home.”
The line ended.
I started the car.
Harris shouted:
“Connor, wait!”
I ignored him.
I had only one thought.
Frederick.
When I reached home, the front door was open.
The house was silent.
Rebecca was on the floor.
Alive.
Unconscious.
Frederick's crib was empty.
My heart stopped.
“Frederick!”
I ran through the house.
Nothing.
Then I heard a sound.
Crying.
Not from the nursery.
From my office.
I opened the door.
Frederick was there.
Safe.
And beside him stood—
Teresa.
She was holding him.
I stared.
“What are you doing?”
She began crying.
“I saved him.”
“What?”
“Thomas had someone inside.”
“Who?”
She looked behind me.
“Someone you trusted.”
I turned.
Nobody.
Then Teresa whispered:
“Connor…”
“What?”
“He isn't coming for Frederick.”
“Then what does he want?”
She handed me an envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed my father.
But beside him stood another person.
Someone I had never seen before.
A woman.
On the back was written:
Your father's first wife.
I stared at the photograph.
“What?”
Teresa's voice trembled.
“Your father was married before me.”
I looked at her.
“And she is still alive.”
My heart pounded.
“Who is she?”
Teresa whispered:
“Thomas's mother.”
I felt the room spin.
Thomas wasn't simply my father's brother.
He wasn't simply an enemy.
He was connected to my family through a secret marriage that had been hidden for decades.
And suddenly I understood why he wanted the Bradley inheritance.
Why he hated my father.
Why he had watched me.
Why he had targeted Frederick.
He didn't believe he was stealing our family's fortune.
He believed he was taking back something that belonged to him.
But there was one thing Thomas still didn't know.
The recording had captured his confession.
The financial records connected him to the conspiracy.
And now we knew where his hatred began.
I looked at Teresa.
“Where is Thomas's mother?”
She lowered her eyes.
“Dead.”
“Then who is the woman in the photograph?”
Teresa looked at me.
“She isn't his mother.”
I froze.
“Then who is she?”
Teresa whispered:
“Your father's daughter.”
The room went silent.
I stared at the photograph.
A daughter.
My father's daughter.
A sister I had never known existed.
And if Teresa was telling the truth—
the woman Thomas had spent twelve years protecting wasn't his mother.
She was his wife.
May you like
The real heir to the Bradley fortune.
And she had been hiding in plain sight.
