Chapter 2 — The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Chapter 2 — The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
The man on the screen was my father.
There was no mistaking him.
The scar above his left eyebrow.
The slight tilt of his head when he was thinking.
The habit of rubbing his thumb against the side of his index finger whenever he was nervous.
I had spent eleven years grieving those details.
Now they were staring back at me from a laptop screen.
Alive.
Older.
Tired.
Terrified.
I pressed my hand over my mouth.
The video had ended.
But I couldn't move.
My bedroom suddenly felt too small.
The walls seemed to close around me.
My father's voice remained inside my head.
Your husband has been looking for you for eleven years.
I replayed the video.
Again.
And again.
Every time, the same words.
Every time, the same face.
My father was alive.
And Derek knew something about it.
Maybe everything.
I closed the laptop.
Then I heard footsteps.
I froze.
Someone was walking down the hallway.
Slowly.
The footsteps stopped outside my door.
The lock turned.
I immediately reached for the hidden tool inside my bag.
The door opened.
Derek stepped inside.
He was holding two glasses of champagne.
He smiled.
"Thought we could start over."
I looked at him.
"Where's your mother?"
"Sleeping."
"At midnight?"
He shrugged.
"She had a long day."
I stared at the champagne.
"I don't want it."
His smile faded.
"You've been acting strangely."
"I'm newly married."
"You were different downstairs."
"Different how?"
"You weren't afraid."
That sentence told me more than he intended.
I tilted my head.
"Was I supposed to be?"
He didn't answer.
He put the glasses on the table.
Then walked toward me.
"I don't want us fighting."
"We aren't fighting."
"You've been distant."
"We've been married for fourteen hours."
"I know."
He sat down.
"That's why I'm asking you to trust me."
I almost laughed.
Instead, I asked:
"Do you trust me?"
He looked directly into my eyes.
"Of course."
"Then why did you lock me in?"
Silence.
His jaw tightened.
"Because I was angry."
"That's not an answer."
"It was a mistake."
"Was it?"
He looked away.
I watched him carefully.
Derek was good at controlling his face.
But not his hands.
His right hand was clenched.
His thumb rubbed against his index finger.
The same nervous gesture my father had.
I wondered if Derek had learned it from him.
Or if that was just coincidence.
"What are you hiding?" I asked.
He looked back at me.
"Nothing."
I smiled.
"Good."
He stood.
"I'll see you in the morning."
He walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
Without turning around, he asked:
"Did you open your laptop tonight?"
My blood went cold.
I forced myself to breathe.
"No."
He turned.
"Are you sure?"
"Why?"
"No reason."
He smiled.
Then left.
The lock clicked.
Again.
I stared at the door.
Derek knew.
Maybe not about the video.
But he knew I had been searching.
And that meant someone had told him.
I opened the laptop again.
The folder was gone.
I searched the drive.
Nothing.
Every file had disappeared.
Except one.
A text document.
No title.
I opened it.
There was a single sentence.
HE KNOWS YOU FOUND ME.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Then another line appeared.
DON'T TRUST HIM YET.
I stared at the screen.
A final line appeared beneath it.
COME TO THE OLD GREENHOUSE AT 2:00 A.M.
No signature.
I checked the time.
1:34.
Twenty-six minutes.
I looked toward the bedroom door.
Then at the balcony.
Then at the hidden passage.
I knew what I had to do.
The old greenhouse stood behind the eastern garden.
Nobody used it anymore.
Brenda had called it an eyesore during the wedding tour.
Derek had joked that the roof leaked.
But I remembered seeing it in one of the family photographs.
My father had been standing there.
Twenty years earlier.
I had seen the picture three months ago.
I hadn't understood why it bothered me.
Now I did.
I slipped through the service passage.
Down the back staircase.
Across the kitchen.
Through the laundry room.
Then outside.
The night air was cold.
I pulled my coat tighter.
Every window of the mansion glowed behind me.
I looked back once.
Derek stood at an upstairs window.
Watching.
My blood ran cold.
He knew.
I kept walking.
The greenhouse was darker than I expected.
The door creaked when I opened it.
Inside, dead vines covered the walls.
Broken flowerpots lay scattered across the floor.
Moonlight entered through the cracked glass roof.
"Hello?"
Nothing.
I stepped farther inside.
A sound came from behind me.
I turned.
A man stood near the far wall.
Older.
Gray hair.
Thin face.
He wore a dark coat.
I didn't recognize him.
"Who are you?"
He looked at me.
Then said:
"Your father hired me eleven years ago."
I froze.
"What did he hire you to do?"
"Keep you alive."
I swallowed.
"Where is he?"
The man looked toward the ceiling.
"Closer than you think."
I stared at him.
"Is he here?"
"No."
"Then where?"
"He has been watching you."
"Watching me?"
"From a distance."
"Why?"
"Because everyone believed he was dead."
"Everyone?"
"Everyone who needed to."
I stepped closer.
"You know what happened to him."
"Yes."
"Then tell me."
The man sighed.
"Your father discovered the Vale family was moving money through companies that didn't exist."
"I know."
"No."
He shook his head.
"You know about the money."
He looked at me.
"You don't know what the money was for."
I waited.
"It wasn't just stolen."
"Then what?"
"They were paying people."
"Who?"
"Judges."
"Politicians?"
"Some."
"Police?"
"Some."
I felt sick.
"What were they buying?"
"Silence."
"About what?"
He looked at me.
"Disappearances."
My breath caught.
"People disappeared?"
"Employees who knew too much."
"How many?"
"Thirty-seven that we can prove."
I stared at him.
"My father found them?"
"He found the records."
"What happened?"
"He tried to expose them."
"And they killed him?"
The man looked away.
"They tried."
"Then what?"
"Your father escaped."
I couldn't breathe.
"How?"
"He had help."
"From whom?"
The man smiled sadly.
"Your mother."
I shook my head.
"My mother died."
"No."
I stepped backward.
"No."
"She didn't."
"She died when I was nineteen."
"That is what you were told."
My entire body went numb.
"Where is she?"
The man didn't answer.
"Where is my mother?"
He reached into his coat.
Pulled out a photograph.
He handed it to me.
I looked down.
My father.
My mother.
Standing together.
Alive.
The date on the photograph was from six months ago.
I dropped it.
The world tilted.
"They're both alive."
The man nodded.
"Yes."
I couldn't speak.
Then a voice came from behind me.
"Chloe."
I turned.
Derek stood in the doorway.
My heart stopped.
The man beside me reached into his coat.
Derek raised one hand.
"Don't."
He looked at the man.
"She's my wife."
The man laughed.
"That's exactly what I'm afraid of."
Derek stepped inside.
"Go."
The man shook his head.
"Derek."
"Go."
He looked at me.
"I'll explain."
The man looked at me one last time.
"Ask him about the night your father disappeared."
Then he slipped through a side door.
Derek didn't stop him.
I stared at my husband.
"You knew."
He said nothing.
"You knew my father was alive."
"Yes."
"My mother too?"
He hesitated.
"Yes."
My chest tightened.
"You lied to me."
"I was trying to protect you."
"By marrying me?"
His face changed.
"That wasn't supposed to happen."
"Then why did it?"
He stepped toward me.
I stepped back.
"Stay away."
"Chloe."
"Don't."
He stopped.
"How long have you known?"
"Since before we met."
I laughed.
A bitter sound.
"Eleven years?"
"No."
He looked at me.
"Eight."
I stared.
"Eight years?"
"I was twenty-four."
"And my father?"
"He contacted me."
"Why?"
"Because he knew my family would eventually find you."
I shook my head.
"Why would they care about me?"
"Because of what your father left."
"What did he leave?"
Derek looked at me.
"Not money."
"Then what?"
"Proof."
"Proof of what?"
He took a breath.
"Everything."
I stared at him.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because if I told you, you'd go looking."
"I was already looking."
"I know."
"Then you should have trusted me."
"I was afraid."
"Of what?"
He looked toward the door.
"Of what would happen if my mother found out I had chosen you over her."
I froze.
"Chosen me?"
"Yes."
I shook my head.
"You don't get to say that."
"Why?"
"Because you humiliated me."
"I know."
"You locked me in."
"I know."
"You lied."
"I know."
"And you married me under false pretenses."
He closed his eyes.
"Yes."
I stepped closer.
"Then tell me the truth."
He looked at me.
"The whole truth."
He swallowed.
"My mother didn't choose you because she liked you."
"I know."
"She chose you because she believed you were the key to finding your father's assets."
I stared.
"What assets?"
"Thirty-two million dollars."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
"Your father hid thirty-two million dollars before he disappeared."
"Where?"
"We don't know."
"Then why me?"
"Because he left something only you could access."
I remembered the mysterious account.
My maiden name.
The beneficiary.
The money.
"What's the password?"
Derek's expression changed.
"We don't know."
I smiled.
"You do."
"No."
"You do."
He looked away.
"What?"
"Your father left you a clue."
I remembered the black flash drive.
The video.
The message.
I reached into my coat.
Pulled out my phone.
Opened the video again.
My father's face appeared.
Derek looked at the screen.
For the first time, I saw genuine fear.
My father spoke.
"If Chloe is watching this, Derek has already failed."
Derek went pale.
I looked at him.
The video continued.
"I gave you one job."
My father's voice became colder.
"Keep my daughter away from the Vale family."
Derek whispered:
"I tried."
The video continued.
"But if she married into the family anyway..."
My father's eyes seemed to look directly through the screen.
"...then she has already discovered the truth."
The video ended.
Silence filled the greenhouse.
Derek stared at the blank screen.
Then he whispered:
"Your father knew."
"Knew what?"
"That you would marry me."
I stared at him.
"How?"
Derek looked at me.
"Because he arranged it."
My blood ran cold.
"What?"
"He knew the Vale family would come for you."
He took a breath.
"So he made sure you'd come to us first."
I couldn't move.
My wedding.
The proposal.
The engagement.
The family invitations.
The ceremony.
Had my father planned all of it?
Derek stepped closer.
"I didn't choose you."
He looked devastated.
"Your father did."
I stared at him.
Then the phone in my hand vibrated.
A new message.
Unknown number.
HE'S TELLING YOU HALF THE TRUTH.
Another appeared.
YOUR FATHER DID NOT ARRANGE THE MARRIAGE.
Then:
BRENDA DID.
I looked at Derek.
He saw my expression.
"What?"
I showed him the screen.
His face changed.
"No."
"What?"
He shook his head.
"That's impossible."
"Why?"
"Because my mother didn't know your father was alive."
I stared at him.
Then another message arrived.
ASK DEREK WHO RECEIVED THE FIRST PAYMENT FOR YOUR MARRIAGE.
I looked at my husband.
He didn't answer.
And that was when I knew.
There was another secret.
A bigger one.
May you like
One that connected my wedding to money.
And this time, Derek was standing directly in the middle of it.
