CHAPTER 169: CHAPTER 169: CONFESSION

Jean Ellison suddenly stood up, the wooden chair legs screeching across the tiles.

"Enough." She interrupted Ronan Sutton, her voice tightly wound, "If you don’t want to talk about Miles Morgan, I have to leave now. My mother-in-law isn’t well, I need to go back and help her prepare dinner."

She reached for the canvas bag on the table quickly and urgently, exuding a sense of not wanting to stay a moment longer.

Ronan Sutton immediately reached out, his hand hovering ahead of hers, a gesture to stop her, yet his posture was very unassuming.

"Don’t be angry, sister."

He looked up at her, his gaze appearing very innocent.

"I came to talk to you about Miles Morgan; I was just making small talk first. Don’t worry."

Jean stood, towering over him, not sitting back down but not leaving immediately either. She was trying to ascertain the truth in his words.

Ronan pulled back his hand, leaning slightly back, his tone becoming calm, even overly blunt.

"I know what you’re thinking."

"You’re suspicious of me. You think I’m connected to the Caldwell family’s fraud case five years ago, and that I’m involved in Miles Morgan’s death."

Jean’s breath caught.

She hadn’t expected him to so bluntly break the unspoken tension.

Indeed, she was suspicious; his appearance was too coincidental, his demeanor too ambiguous.

She took a breath, suppressing her inner turmoil, and sat back down.

Since he had opened up, she had to listen.

"I don’t have any evidence to suspect anyone." Jean chose her words carefully, her gaze sharp as it rested on him, "I just feel something’s off. Miles was my father’s most trusted secretary, familiar with all matters, core and peripheral, concerning the Caldwell Group."

"Before my father ran into trouble, every operation within the company, including the massive financial dealings later alleged as the core of the fraud, went through Miles."

She paused; mentioning her father made her throat dry.

"I believe Miles knew the truth, knew who orchestrated everything from behind the scenes, framing my father and me."

Jean’s voice was low, but every word was weighted heavily.

"But he died, on the night my father jumped, accidentally drowning at his old home in Sudland Province."

"Too coincidental, too unbelievable."

"The police concluded it was an accident back then, with nothing suspicious about his case, dead men tell no tales."

She spread her hands, palms up, empty, carrying an incapacitated fatigue.

A key witness died, and all clues seemed to be lost there.

Ronan listened quietly without interrupting. It wasn’t until Jean finished that he slowly spoke, his voice even-toned.

"Who says the dead can’t speak?"

Jean’s eyes shot up.

Ronan leisurely took out his phone, swiping the screen a few times, then pushed it in front of Jean.

The phone screen displayed a clear image of an electronic document.

That format, that letterhead, Jean would never forget until her death.

It was the heart of the fraud case that utterly destroyed her father and the Caldwell Group, dragging her into the abyss—the most critical contract.

Her gaze fixated on the signatory line for the second party on the contract.

A flamboyant signature was there, Miles Morgan.

Not her father, Timothy Caldwell’s name.

Jean’s blood seemed to freeze instantly.

She grabbed the phone, enlarging the signature section, discerning carefully.

No doubt, it was Miles’ handwriting, seen countless times, unmistakable.

Miles’ writing had a distinctive characteristic; the last stroke of "Morgan" was always elongated.

"Where... did you get this?"

Her voice trembled uncontrollably as she looked up.

Why was Miles’ name signed on this contract?

The evidence presented by the police back then, all the contracts implicating my father, were signed with his name.

This was the most crucial point.

Ronan met her gaze, his expression calm, as if he had anticipated her reaction.

"This contract was handed to me by Miles himself, just hours before his death." He said, "The signature on the contract is legitimate; your father valued Miles so highly, giving him many shares, his signature was equivalent to your father’s, carrying the same legal significance, representing the company."

Jean’s pupils constricted sharply.

"Explain." She commanded, clutching the phone so tightly her knuckles whitened.

"That afternoon, around three, Miles suddenly came to see me. He was in a hurry, his complexion not good either."

Ronan recalled, speaking with a steady pace.

"He said the Caldwell Group—oh no, by then it was probably on the verge of collapse—he said there was a major issue with the company’s cash flow, a very important project urgently needed bridge funding, just for a month, after which the funds would be recouped, principal and interest paid."

"He asked for a hundred and fifty million." Ronan emphasized the figure, "I was shocked. Even though the Sutton family and the Caldwell family were old acquaintances, my father and Uncle Caldwell shared a friendship, but such a large sum, especially in the form of a private loan, seemed strange and troubling."

He paused, then continued, "I told him I didn’t have that much liquid capital personally. If it were to be in the Sutton family’s name or transferred from the company, I would need time and have to consult my older brother; this wasn’t a minor issue."

"What was his reaction at the time?" Jean pressed on.

"He was very anxious, repeatedly emphasizing the urgency, saying if the money didn’t come through, the Caldwell Group would be finished. He also said..."

Ronan hesitated, glancing at Jean’s expression.

"He also said it wasn’t just to save the company, but also to save Uncle Caldwell and you. He said if they got through this hardship, there would be a turning point."

Jean’s heart sank.

Her father had already been cornered, she was detained, Miles’ words sounded plausible, like a loyal secretary striving to salvage the crisis.

"So you didn’t agree to him right away?" Jean Ellison asked.

"No. I said I needed to think about it, needed to talk to my brother."

"I told him to go back and wait for news. He looked disappointed but didn’t say much more, left a copy of the contract for me to review, and then he left."

Ronan Sutton pointed to the phone still in Jean Ellison’s hand.

"I remember very clearly, when he left, it was around four-thirty in the afternoon."

"And then?"

"Then, around a little past seven in the evening, I received a call from the police, informing me that Miles Morgan encountered an accident in Sudland Province, accidentally fell into the water, and was gone."

"They checked the communication records and found that I was one of the last people he contacted before he died, so they came to me for information."

Ronan Sutton’s tone was very flat, without any ripple.

"I went to make a statement and told the police everything I just told you, all of it."

"Including him coming to borrow money from me, and leaving this photocopy of the contract, I didn’t hide anything."

Jean Ellison’s mind was racing.

If what he said was true...

Then, on that critical afternoon when Father jumped off the building and Miles Morgan fell into the water, Miles actually privately took a contract signed with his own name, not Father’s name, to Ronan Sutton to seek a large amount of money?

This makes no logical sense at all.

According to the case’s definition back then, it was Father Timothy Caldwell using a fake contract for fraud.

If the contract was fake, a fraud led by Father, why was the contract that Miles brought signed with Miles’ own name?

This means taking the responsibility upon himself.

Moreover, why did Miles do this?

Was he diverting attention away for the real mastermind behind the scenes, or was he the one handling it all along, and Father actually wasn’t fully aware?

More startling is that Miles died unexpectedly just a few hours after leaving this potentially crucial piece of evidence, the contract copy.

Was he silenced?

Jean Ellison put the phone back on the table, pushing it back to Ronan Sutton.

Her movements were slow, calming the storm within her heart.

"What was the police’s reaction when they saw this contract?"

She asked, trying hard to keep her voice calm.

"They recorded it. But that’s all, just recorded it."

Ronan Sutton picked up his phone, locked it, and put it back in his pocket.

"This contract can only prove that Miles Morgan once tried to borrow money from me in his or his company’s name, and left a document signed with his own name."

"It can’t directly prove Uncle Caldwell’s innocence. The key evidence from the police’s investigation back then focused on those contracts signed by Uncle Caldwell, those were the pieces that concluded the case."

"Moreover, Miles is dead, unable to testify, leaving the purpose of borrowing the money and the authenticity of the contract as unresolved mysteries."

He looked at Jean Ellison with a complicated expression.

"I know what this piece of paper might mean."

"So through these years, I’ve always kept it."

"I’ve also always wanted to find you. I know you came to the United States, which made me really happy, because I wanted to help you solve all your troubles."

"You’re married now, even have kids, and your life is very peaceful, which I think is great. I had no intention of showing you this document."

"Then why did you come to me now, showing me this?"

Jean Ellison looked directly into his eyes, not allowing him to dodge.

"Because I feel uneasy."

Ronan Sutton answered candidly.

"Miles Morgan’s death is too bizarre, Uncle Caldwell’s case has too many doubts, my brother later advised me not to get involved in the Caldwell family’s affairs again, said it’s too deep, and I listened."

"But over the years, this matter has always weighed on my heart. I think you have the right to know these things."

"Perhaps you can find something in it that we all missed back then."

Jean Ellison fell silent.

Ronan Sutton’s words seemed reasonable, almost flawless.

A billion and five hundred million is not a minor sum. Why did Miles specifically come to him? Was it simply because the Sutton family was wealthy, or was there another reason?

"Besides you, who else might Miles have approached at that time?" Jean Ellison asked.

"I don’t know." Ronan Sutton shook his head, "The police should have investigated his communication records and social relations back then. The conclusion was that there were no other anomalies. At least, I was the only one they found linked to this huge loan."

Jean Ellison leaned back in her chair, feeling completely drained.

The information she just received was overwhelming, too powerful of a blow; she needed time to process it.

Her mother-in-law was still waiting at home, and the day was fading into night.

She couldn’t stay any longer.

"Can I get a copy of this contract?" she asked.

"Of course." Ronan Sutton immediately agreed, "I’ll send it to your phone’s email."

Jean Ellison provided him with a newly registered email address.

Ronan Sutton operated his phone, and soon, the old phone Jean Ellison placed in her bag vibrated.

"It’s sent over," Ronan Sutton said.

Jean Ellison stood up: "I’ll leave today, thank you for telling me this."

"Sis," Ronan Sutton also stood up, "I’ll take you back."

Jean Ellison didn’t respond, just nodded, picked up her bag, and turned to leave the café.