Chapter 8: The Truth Margaret Hid
I didn’t believe Daniel.
But I also didn’t ignore him.
That was the difference between the woman who married him and the woman standing here now.
I no longer accepted anyone’s words without looking for proof.
That afternoon, I confronted Margaret.
She was in my apartment, organizing the documents she had brought.
The moment she saw my expression, she knew.
“What did Daniel tell you?””
I froze.
“You already know?””
Margaret slowly sat down.
“Yes.””
“About his father?””
“Yes.””
“About you?””
Her silence answered.
I felt something break inside me.
“Were you involved?””
Margaret looked devastated.
“No.””
“Then explain.””
She took a deep breath.
“Richard didn’t disappear because he wanted to escape.””
“Then why?””
“Because I made him disappear.””
I stared at her.
“What?””
She looked at the floor.
“Not literally.””
I waited.
“Four years ago, I discovered what Richard had done.””
“The money?””
“The fraud. The illegal transfers. The people he hurt.””
“And?””
“I reported him.””
The room went quiet.
“You reported your own brother?””
“Yes.””
For the first time, I saw something in Margaret’s face.
Not guilt.
Pain.
“I thought justice would stop him.””
“But he survived.””
She nodded.
“And he blamed me.””
I looked at the documents.
“So why fake his death?””
“Because he had powerful friends. People who could protect him.””
“And Daniel?””
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Daniel knew.””
My stomach tightened.
“He knew everything?””
“Yes.””
“Then why did he marry me?””
Margaret looked at me.
“Because Richard convinced him.””
I whispered:
“Convince him to do what?””
“To gain access to your inheritance.””
The truth hurt less this time.
Maybe because I had already been wounded.
My phone rang.
Emily.
I answered.
“Emily?””
Her voice was urgent.
“Claire, I found something.””
“What?””
“Something from Dad’s old files.””
I grabbed my keys.
“Where are you?””
“At his old office.””
Twenty minutes later, Emily was standing beside a dusty filing cabinet.
She held a folder.
“I found this hidden behind a false panel.””
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
My father.
Richard Whitmore.
And Daniel.
Together.
My heart stopped.
“When was this taken?””
Emily looked at the back.
“Six months before you met Daniel.””
I stared at the picture.
They already knew each other.
The man I married wasn’t a stranger who accidentally hurt me.
He had been chosen.
A message appeared on Emily’s phone.
She looked at it.
Then her face changed.
“What?””
She handed it to me.
The message was from an unknown number.
*Stop digging. Your father should have stopped too.*
My hands went cold.
Then another message arrived.
A photo.
Not of us.
Of someone else.
Margaret.
Standing outside the building.
Watching.
I looked at Emily.
“She followed us?””
“No.””
Emily shook her head.
“She was already here.””
I turned toward the window.
Outside, across the street…
Margaret stood there.
And she wasn’t alone.
A man stood beside her.
Older.
Gray hair.
Wearing a dark coat.
Even from a distance, I knew.
Richard Whitmore.
May you like
Alive.
Watching me.
