Chapter 3: The File My Father Left Behind
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
The rain hammered against the windshield.
The engine hummed quietly.
And those four words stayed in my mind like a warning carved into stone.
*She knows about the file.*
I looked at Adrian.
“What file?””
He didn’t answer.
That was the first time since I met him that I saw hesitation.
Not confusion.
Not uncertainty.
A decision.
Like he was weighing the consequences of every possible sentence before letting it leave his mouth.
“Adrian.””
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
“Your father was careful.””
“That’s not an answer.””
“No.””
His eyes moved briefly toward me.
“It isn’t.””
I hated that he admitted it so calmly.
Most people lied when they were hiding something.
Adrian Vale didn’t.
He simply chose silence.
And somehow that felt more dangerous.
“You knew my father was afraid of Wendy.””
“I knew your father was suspicious.””
“You said he warned you.””
“He did.””
“About what?””
A long pause.
Then he turned the car onto a private road surrounded by tall trees and darkness.
“About people close to him.””
My chest tightened.
“You’re avoiding the question.””
“Yes.””
I stared at him.
“At least you’re honest about it.””
“I try to be.””
“No, you don’t.””
That got his attention.
“You met me less than an hour ago.””
“And you’ve already decided what information I can handle.””
He looked back at the road.
“That’s because I know what happens when people discover the truth too quickly.””
I almost laughed.
“The truth?””
I lifted my injured hand.
“My stepmother tried to sell me to a man who grabbed me in my own house. Her security team chased me into a storm. I think I can handle the truth.””
The words came out sharper than I intended.
But I didn’t regret them.
Adrian was quiet.
Then he nodded once.
“You’re right.””
I blinked.
I hadn’t expected agreement.
He continued driving.
“My mistake was assuming you were still the person Wendy believed you were.””
I frowned.
“What does that mean?””
“It means she saw a daughter.””
He glanced at me.
“She should have seen an opponent.””
The sentence sent a strange chill through me.
Because that was exactly what I had realized in the dining room.
Wendy underestimated me.
But apparently, so did everyone else.
Including Adrian.
The car eventually stopped in front of a modern house hidden behind iron gates.
It wasn’t a mansion like Sterling Estate.
It was different.
The kind of place built by someone who valued privacy more than showing wealth.
The lights turned on automatically as we approached.
I looked around.
“Where are we?””
“My residence.””
I immediately reached for the door handle.
“No.””
Adrian looked at me.
“No?””
“I’m not staying in a stranger’s house.””
“You’re injured.””
“I’ll find somewhere else.””
“In the middle of the night?””
“Yes.””
“During a storm?””
“Yes.””
He stared at me.
“You’re impossible.””
“I’ve heard that too.””
This time, he almost smiled.
Almost.
Then his expression became serious.
“Jessi, Wendy knows about the file.””
The change in his voice made me stop.
“Why does that matter?””
“Because if she knows about it, she knows you have evidence.””
I looked away.
“She doesn’t know what I have.””
“Are you sure?””
“Yes.””
“How?””
Because I had been careful.
Because I had hidden everything.
Because I wasn’t stupid.
But as I opened my mouth, I realized something.
I wasn’t sure.
I had assumed Wendy didn’t know.
And assumptions were exactly how people like her won.
Adrian watched my face.
“You’re thinking of possibilities.””
I hated that he could read me so easily.
“She might know something.””
“What?””
“I don’t know.””
“Then we find out.””
The certainty in his voice bothered me.
“You talk like this is your problem.””
“It is now.””
“Why?””
He didn’t answer immediately.
Again.
That silence.
That controlled silence.
I stepped out of the car.
“Fine.””
Adrian looked surprised.
“Fine?””
“I’ll stay until I figure out what Wendy knows.””
“That’s not the same as trusting me.””
“I don’t trust you.””
“I know.””
“Good.””
“But you trust that I’m more useful than the people chasing you.””
I hated that he was right.
I walked toward the house.
“That doesn’t mean I like it.””
“I didn’t ask you to.””
Inside, everything was quiet.
No staff.
No assistants.
No unnecessary luxury.
Just clean lines, dark wood, and a feeling that someone lived there but never fully relaxed.
Adrian walked toward a hallway.
“There’s a guest room.””
“I can manage.””
“I’m sure you can.””
I stopped.
“Is that supposed to be an insult?””
“No.””
He looked at me.
“It’s an observation.””
I hated that I couldn’t tell whether he was complimenting me.
A few minutes later, I stood in front of a bathroom mirror.
And for the first time that night, I saw myself.
My hair was soaked.
My face was pale.
My clothes were torn.
There was dried blood on my hand.
I looked like someone who had survived something.
Because I had.
I cleaned the cut as best I could.
When I returned to the living room, Adrian was standing beside a large window, looking at the storm.
“You knew my father for how long?””
“Seven years.””
“Business partners?””
“Sometimes.””
“Sometimes?””
“We competed more than we cooperated.””
That surprised me.
“My father had competitors he respected.””
“Yes.””
“And you were one of them?””
“Yes.””
I studied him.
“Then why would he trust you?””
Adrian looked at the rain.
“Because your father understood something most people don’t.””
“What?””
“Enemies can be more honest than friends.””
The answer unsettled me.
Because it sounded like something my father would say.
My father always told me that a person’s actions mattered more than their promises.
Especially when money was involved.
I walked closer.
“What did he tell you about Wendy?””
Adrian didn’t answer.
Instead, he walked to a locked cabinet.
My eyes followed him.
He entered a code.
The door opened.
Inside were several folders.
My heartbeat increased.
“What is that?””
“Something your father gave me.””
My breathing stopped.
He removed a thin black folder.
On the front was a handwritten label.
*J. Sterling.*
My name.
I stepped closer.
“What is that?””
Adrian placed it on the table.
“Your father’s instructions.””
I stared at the folder.
“No.””
The word came out before I could stop it.
“No, he wouldn’t.””
“He did.””
“My father never hid things from me.””
Adrian’s expression softened slightly.
“Your father loved you.””
“That doesn’t answer my question.””
“No.””
He opened the folder.
Inside were documents.
Photographs.
Printed emails.
And one envelope.
My name was written on it.
In my father’s handwriting.
My legs felt weak.
I touched the envelope but didn’t open it.
“When did he give this to you?””
“Three months before his death.””
“Why didn’t you give it to me?””
Adrian looked at me.
“Because he told me not to.””
My eyes narrowed.
“He told you not to give his daughter a letter?””
“Until the right time.””
“And he decided you would know the right time?””
“Yes.””
I almost yelled.
“That’s insane.””
“Maybe.””
“You barely know me.””
“I know your father.””
“That’s not the same.””
“No.””
Adrian’s voice lowered.
“But he knew you.””
The room went silent.
I hated that sentence.
Because some part of me wanted to believe it.
I wanted to believe my father had prepared something.
That even after death, he had tried to protect me.
But another part of me was furious.
Why hadn’t he trusted me?
Why had he left secrets?
Why had he put another person in charge of my life?
I picked up the envelope.
My hands shook.
Then my phone rang.
Both Adrian and I froze.
The screen showed an unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?””
No one spoke.
Just breathing.
Then a voice.
A woman’s voice.
Wendy.
“Jessica.””
My blood turned cold.
“How did you get this number?””
“You really thought running away would erase your problems?””
I stood still.
Adrian immediately moved closer.
“Where are you?””
Wendy laughed softly.
“I’m disappointed.””
“Why?””
“Because I thought you were smarter.””
My grip tightened around the phone.
“What do you want?””
“What I wanted before.””
“You mean my life?””
“No.””
A pause.
Then her voice became colder.
“I want what your father hid.””
I looked at Adrian.
He understood immediately.
The file.
The envelope.
Everything.
Wendy continued.
“You have no idea what you’re holding.””
“I know enough.””
“No, Jessica. You don’t.””
Her voice dropped.
“Your father didn’t leave you evidence.””
My heart stopped.
“He left you a warning.””
The line went silent for a moment.
Then she said:
“And if Adrian Vale gave you that folder, then he already knows he’s about to become your next target.””
I looked at Adrian.
His expression had changed.
“Why would you say that?””
Wendy smiled through the phone.
“Because Jessica…”
A pause.
Then:
“Your father’s biggest secret wasn’t about me.””
The call ended.
I slowly lowered the phone.
Adrian stared at the envelope in my hand.
“What did she mean?””
I looked at him.
For the first time, he looked genuinely afraid.
Not for himself.
For me.
And then I noticed something written on the back of the envelope.
A sentence I had never seen before.
May you like
A sentence my father had written just for me.
*Do not trust anyone who tells you they came to save you.*
