Chapter 2
My father did not move.
For a few seconds, he stood in the doorway like the house had disappeared around him.
His eyes were on the laptop.
Not on Victoria.
Not on me.
On the screen where my stepmother laughed about my dying mother like she was a business problem solved at dinner.
Victoria recovered first.
She always did.
“Richard,” she said quickly, her voice soft and trembling. “This is not what it looks like.”
The video kept playing.
Victoria leaned back in the dining chair, champagne glass in hand.
A man’s voice spoke from behind the camera.
“You’re sure he won’t question the transfer?”
Victoria laughed.
“Richard signs whatever I put in front of him when I tell him it will protect Claire.”
My stomach turned.
My father’s hand gripped the doorframe.
The man behind the camera chuckled.
“And the company?”
“Already handled. He thinks he authorized temporary management rights in case Eleanor’s treatment bankrupts him.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Men become so stupid when they’re grieving.”
My father made a sound like someone had cut him open.
Victoria rushed toward the laptop.
I slammed it shut halfway, but not off.
“Don’t touch it,” I said.
Her eyes flashed.
“You little thief.”
I staggered to my feet.
My head pulsed.
Warm blood slid near my temple.
“You stole my mother’s locket.”
“She hid stolen material inside it.”
My father finally looked at her.
His voice was barely above a whisper.
“What did you do?”
Victoria froze.
“Richard, listen to me.”
“What did you do?”
The second time, his voice cracked.
I had never heard him sound like that.
Not even at Mom’s funeral.
Victoria pressed one hand to her chest.
“You were falling apart. Eleanor was sick. The company needed decisions. I helped you.”
The laptop still played audio through the half-closed screen.
Victoria’s recorded voice said, “Once Eleanor is gone, Richard will be easy. The daughter will be harder. She watches everything.”
My knees weakened.
I was the daughter.
I was the problem she had planned for.
My father slowly walked toward the coffee table.
Victoria stepped in front of him.
“Richard, please. That video is old. I was drunk.”
He stared at her.
“My wife was dying.”
Her mouth trembled.
“I know.”
“And you were celebrating?”
“No.”
The video answered for her.
On the laptop, Victoria said, “I deserve this life. Eleanor had it long enough.”
My father reached around her and opened the laptop fully.
The video showed Victoria pulling papers from a folder.
I recognized the Hale Industries logo on the top page.
The man behind the camera asked, “And if Richard finds out?”
Victoria smiled.
“He won’t. And if he does, I’ll say Eleanor asked me to protect everything from Claire’s future husband. He’ll believe anything if it sounds like a dead woman’s wish.”
Dad stumbled backward.
I grabbed the arm of the sofa to steady myself.
The pain in my head sharpened.
Victoria saw the blood then.
For one second, real fear crossed her face.
Not for me.
For what my injury meant.
“Claire fell,” she said quickly.
My father looked at my face.
His expression shattered.
“She’s bleeding.”
“I barely touched her.”
“She’s bleeding.”
“Because she attacked me.”
I laughed.
It came out broken.
“You ripped Mom’s necklace off my neck.”
His eyes dropped to the red mark across my throat.
Then to the broken chain in my hand.
Then to the tiny USB drive sticking out of the laptop.
He understood.
Maybe not all of it.
Enough.
“Claire,” he said, voice shaking, “sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are not fine.”
He reached for me, then stopped like he was afraid I would flinch.
I did.
His face crumpled.
That almost hurt worse.
Victoria took the moment.
“Richard, she has always hated me. You know that. She never accepted me. She probably made this video somehow. Teenagers can edit anything now.”
My father looked at her slowly.
“You think Claire made a video of you three years ago talking about Eleanor dying?”
Victoria’s mouth opened.
No words came.
The two men from the office appeared behind my father.
One was Mr. Lawson, our family attorney.
The other was a man I didn’t know, holding a folder of papers.
Mr. Lawson looked from me to the laptop to Victoria.
“What is going on?”
My father’s voice became cold.
“Apparently my wife has been forging and manipulating documents for years.”
Victoria gasped.
“Richard.”
He pointed at the laptop.
“Sit.”
She went pale.
“What?”
“Sit down.”
“I will not be ordered around in my own house.”
My father’s eyes darkened.
“Is it yours?”
The room went still.
Victoria’s face changed.
That question had hit something.
Mr. Lawson stepped forward.
“What documents?”
I opened the video folder with shaking fingers.
There were more files.
Many more.
Videos.
Scans.
Audio recordings.
A folder labeled RICHARD SIGNATURES.
Another labeled HALE TRANSFER.
Another labeled CLAIRE AFTER ELEANOR.
My heart pounded.
My mother had built a bomb inside a locket and left it around my neck.
She knew.
She had known.
My father leaned over the laptop, reading the folder names.
His face drained completely.
“Eleanor,” he whispered.
Victoria lunged for the laptop.
Mr. Lawson caught her arm.
“Do not.”
She slapped him.
Hard.
Everyone froze.
Mr. Lawson touched his cheek, stunned.
Victoria looked at her hand like it belonged to someone else.
Then she turned and ran toward the hallway.
My father moved after her.
“Victoria!”
But I saw where she was going.
Not the front door.
The office.
The documents.
I ran first.
My head screamed.
My vision blurred.
But I reached the office doorway as Victoria grabbed a stack of signed papers from the desk.
She was shoving them into her purse.
I threw myself at her.
We crashed into the desk.
Papers flew.
She clawed at my wrist.
“You stupid girl!”
My father grabbed her from behind and pulled her away.
“Enough!”
She twisted and screamed.
“You have no idea what Eleanor did!”
My father froze.
So did I.
Victoria was crying now, but rage burned through it.
“You worship her like she was a saint,” she spat. “She was going to leave you with nothing.”
My father whispered, “What are you talking about?”
Victoria’s eyes locked on mine.
“Ask your precious daughter what her mother really hid.”
My hand closed around the locket.
The USB drive was not the only secret.
May you like
I could feel it.
And from the way Victoria smiled through her tears, she knew more was coming.
