Chapter 4 - THE 1:32 ENTRY
At 8:14 a.m., our home-security technician called me from the bedroom.
“Mr. Wentworth, you need to see this before anybody resets the system.”
I left Irene under hospital observation and returned with Detective Brooks.
The house looked different in daylight.
The hammer still lay inside an evidence marker.
The damaged safe stood open.
Irene’s suitcase remained where Carla had packed it.
The technician, Aaron Pike, connected a diagnostic tablet directly to the security hub.
“This system keeps two access records,” he explained. “Cloud history and local device history.”
The cloud record showed Margaret entering at 12:58 a.m.
Carla followed at 1:01.
Nothing else.
But the local hub showed another credential.
1:32:17 a.m.
M. VALE — ADMINISTRATIVE SERVICE ACCESS.
I stared at it.
“Martin has an access credential?”
Aaron looked uncomfortable.
“His office requested one years ago after Mr. Charles Wentworth died. It was described as estate-security access.”
“My father died five years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Why is it still active?”
“I don't know.”
Brooks photographed the screen.
“Can you export this?”
Aaron nodded.
“I already created a read-only copy.”
Martin had lied to me less than seven hours earlier.
He had been in my house.
The access record didn't prove what he did inside.
But it proved Irene was telling the truth about his presence.
Then Aaron frowned.
“What?”
“The cloud log changed.”
Brooks stepped closer.
“When?”
“Six fourteen this morning.”
The 1:32 service entry had been erased from the remote server.
Someone with administrator privileges had deleted it after I confronted Martin on the phone.
Fortunately, the local hub had not synchronized because Carla’s hammer damaged part of the network controller.
The same violence intended to destroy evidence had accidentally preserved it.
Brooks gave Aaron instructions not to touch anything else.
I called Martin.
He answered on the second ring.
“You lied to me.”
“About?”
“Your access credential opened my house at 1:32.”
A pause.
“That credential hasn't been under my personal control for years.”
“Then who used it?”
“I don't know.”
“Someone also deleted the cloud log at 6:14.”
Another pause.
“Austin, you are making accusations during an emotional crisis.”
“My wife saw you.”
“Your wife is accusing your mother of attempted theft.”
“My mother was filmed assaulting her.”
“And you were filmed putting your hands on your mother.”
I stopped.
“What?”
His voice softened.
“You think your recording is the only recording that exists?”
Before I could answer, another call appeared.
Wentworth Properties board secretary.
Urgent meeting.
9:00 a.m.
I hung up on Martin.
At the hospital, Irene was asleep.
I watched her breathe while my phone filled with messages from directors.
Then an attachment arrived.
PROXY AUTHORIZATION — AUSTIN WENTWORTH.
It gave Margaret temporary voting authority over my controlling shares while I was abroad.
At the bottom was my signature.
Except I had never signed it.
Martin had not only known I was in London.
May you like
He had prepared paperwork that depended on me staying there.
📖 I thought proving Martin entered my home would weaken him; instead, a forged document suddenly gave my mother the power to remove me from my own company. 👇
