Chapter 8 - The Night My Father Died
I found my mother sitting in the breakfast room the next morning.
She had barely touched her tea.
I placed my phone in front of her.
"Read it."
She did.
Her hand began trembling.
"Mom."
"What happened the night Dad died?"
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Emily..."
"No more protecting me."
"No more keeping the peace."
"I need the truth."
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she looked toward the window.
"Your father didn't die where you were told."
My entire body went still.
The official story had never changed.
My father suffered a heart attack while driving home from a business dinner.
His car left the road.
By the time help arrived...
He was gone.
"What do you mean?"
My mother swallowed.
"He wasn't driving home."
"He was driving here."
"To this mansion."
"Why?"
"Because he had discovered something."
Daniel stood in the doorway.
He had arrived early that morning.
He didn't interrupt.
My mother continued.
"Your father called me just before midnight."
"He sounded terrified."
I had never heard those words used to describe my father.
He feared almost nothing.
"He said he'd finally found proof."
"What proof?"
"He wouldn't tell me over the phone."
"He only said..."
Her voice cracked.
"Charles knows."
A chill moved through the room.
"Charles Donovan?"
She nodded.
"Twenty minutes later..."
"Your father stopped answering."
I looked at Daniel.
"You investigated the crash?"
"Privately."
"And?"
He hesitated.
"The brakes had been damaged."
My mother covered her face.
I felt something inside me turn cold.
"Someone killed him."
Daniel chose his words carefully.
"We could never prove homicide."
"The vehicle was badly damaged."
"Evidence disappeared."
"The local report ruled it mechanical failure."
"But your father believed someone was coming after him."
"Two days before his death, he gave me the signet ring."
"Why?"
Daniel pushed the ring toward me.
"He said if anything happened to him, I was to wait."
"Wait for what?"
"For you to return to this house by your own choice."
I stared at him.
"Eighteen years?"
"He was very specific."
"He didn't want you dragged into his war."
"He wanted you to live first."
Tears burned behind my eyes.
My father hadn't abandoned a mystery.
He had buried it.
To protect me.
Then Ryan's message replayed in my mind.
Ask your mother what happened the night your father died.
I looked at Daniel.
"How does Ryan know?"
No one answered.
That was the most frightening part.
Before noon, I called Ryan.
He answered on the first ring.
"You finally want to listen?"
"How do you know about my father?"
Silence.
Then a sigh.
"My parents told me things."
"When?"
"Emily..."
"When?"
"Years ago."
The answer hurt more than I expected.
"Before we married?"
Another pause.
"Yes."
I closed my eyes.
"So you knew our families were connected."
"Somewhat."
"You told me you'd never heard of Carter Holdings."
"I didn't know everything."
"But you knew enough to lie."
"I was scared you'd leave."
I almost laughed.
"You were scared I'd leave?"
"You married me under a false story."
"It wasn't like that."
"Then tell me what it was like."
Ryan breathed heavily.
"My father said your family destroyed ours."
"He said your father stole everything from him."
"And you believed him."
"At first."
My voice became quieter.
"And then?"
"I met you."
The words should have mattered.
Once.
Now they sounded rehearsed.
Ryan continued.
"I stopped caring about the money."
"Did you?"
"Yes."
"Then why did you come to the mansion with an attorney?"
Silence.
I had him.
Finally.
"I didn't know why my father insisted on bringing him."
"That's a lie."
"Emily—"
"Here's what happens now."
"You stay away from my mother."
"You stay away from my son."
"And you stay away from this estate."
"You can't keep Noah from me."
"You should've remembered that before you treated his grandmother like a servant."
Ryan's voice sharpened.
"You don't know what you're getting into."
"Neither do you."
I ended the call.
But before I put the phone down, one final message arrived.
A photograph.
Old.
Grainy.
Taken at night.
My father stood beside his car.
Across from him...
Was my mother.
And beside her...
Charles Donovan.
The timestamp showed the photo had been taken less than an hour before my father's crash.
I slowly turned toward my mother.
She saw my face.
And immediately knew.
"Emily..."
May you like
I held up the phone.
"You were there."
