Chapter 2 — The Woman My Wife Feared
Chapter 2 — The Woman My Wife Feared
The house had never felt so large.
Every hallway seemed longer.
Every closed door looked suspicious.
Every shadow made me wonder who had been standing there before I noticed.
I stood in Emily's bedroom with the laptop still open on the desk.
The final frame of her recording remained frozen on the screen.
Her face.
Her frightened eyes.
Her unfinished warning.
Victoria is not who she says she is.
I had watched it three times.
Each time, I hoped I had misunderstood.
Each time, the truth became harder to escape.
Victoria had lied about how she met me.
She had lied about her relationship with Michael.
And according to Emily, she had been planning something involving Noah.
But there was one thing I couldn't understand.
Why?
Money?
Power?
Revenge?
Or something much worse?
Behind me, Grace quietly closed the bedroom door.
“Daniel.”
I turned.
“What aren't you telling me?”
She looked down.
“I've already told you more tonight than Emily wanted me to.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“I know.”
“Then give me one.”
Grace took a slow breath.
“Emily was afraid of Victoria.”
I stared at her.
“How long?”
“Almost six months before she died.”
The answer hit me harder than I expected.
“Six months?”
Grace nodded.
“She didn't trust her.”
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“Because she was afraid you wouldn't believe her.”
I almost laughed.
“You're telling me my wife was afraid to tell me something about my own brother and the woman I nearly married?”
Grace's eyes filled with tears.
“She tried.”
I stopped.
“What do you mean?”
“She tried several times.”
“When?”
“After Victoria first appeared.”
I stared at her.
“Victoria met me eleven months after Emily died.”
Grace shook her head.
“No.”
My heart began pounding.
“What?”
“She met you eleven months after Emily's death.”
“Yes.”
Grace looked at me.
“But she knew about you before that.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“How?”
“I don't know.”
“Grace.”
“I don't know.”
She looked toward the locked door.
“But Emily found something.”
“What?”
“A photograph.”
“Where?”
“In Victoria's old apartment.”
I stared at her.
“You went into her apartment?”
“No.”
“Then how did Emily get the photograph?”
Grace hesitated.
“Because Emily hired someone to investigate her.”
I felt the muscles in my jaw tighten.
“My wife investigated Victoria before I even knew her.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Victoria had been asking questions about Noah.”
My stomach turned.
“What kind of questions?”
Grace's voice dropped.
“Questions about his inheritance.”
I called my attorney at 6:17 the next morning.
His name was Robert Hale.
He had handled my family's legal affairs for almost fifteen years.
He arrived forty minutes later.
He walked into the library carrying a leather case.
His expression changed when he saw the documents scattered across the table.
“You found something.”
“I found enough.”
He removed his glasses.
“What happened?”
I handed him the guardianship petition.
He read the first page.
Then the second.
By the third, his face had changed.
“Where did you get this?”
“It was filed against me.”
“I know that.”
“You knew?”
He looked up.
“I knew someone had prepared a preliminary petition.”
“Who?”
He didn't answer.
“Robert.”
He sighed.
“Michael contacted me.”
The room went silent.
“What did he ask you to do?”
“He asked whether a guardianship petition could be filed if you were declared medically incapable of caring for Noah.”
I stared at him.
“And what did you tell him?”
“That it would require evidence.”
“Evidence like what?”
Robert hesitated.
“Medical records.”
I felt a cold sensation spread through my chest.
“Which medical records?”
“Your therapy records.”
I stood.
“My what?”
“You've been seeing Dr. Mason.”
“Yes.”
“Michael requested access.”
“Did you give it to him?”
“No.”
Robert looked at the floor.
“But someone did.”
I understood immediately.
Victoria.
“She had access through you?”
“No.”
“Then how?”
Robert didn't answer.
I walked to the window.
The garden outside was covered in morning fog.
“I want every document Michael has ever requested from my office.”
Robert nodded.
“And Robert?”
“Yes?”
“If anything has been transferred without my authorization…”
I turned.
“…I want to know who did it.”
He swallowed.
“You may not like the answer.”
“I don't care anymore.”
By noon, I had the first piece of Victoria's past.
Her full legal name wasn't Victoria Blackwell.
It was Victoria Elise Grant.
She had changed her surname seven years earlier.
The reason listed was marriage.
But there was no marriage record.
No divorce record.
No spouse.
The name appeared only once in the database.
As an employee of a private consulting company.
Blackwell Strategic Holdings.
I stared at the screen.
“Blackwell.”
Robert nodded.
“That's Michael's investment company.”
I felt something inside me crack.
“She worked for him.”
“Apparently.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
I looked at the date.
Two years before Emily died.
“So Emily was right.”
Robert didn't respond.
I pulled up Victoria's employment records.
Assistant.
Then financial analyst.
Then executive consultant.
Then nothing.
Her employment ended suddenly.
Exactly eleven months before she met me.
The same month she supposedly moved to the city.
I stared at the timeline.
There was no coincidence anymore.
There was a pattern.
And someone had spent years hiding it.
That afternoon, I went through Emily's belongings.
Not the things I remembered.
The things I had never touched.
Boxes in the attic.
Old notebooks.
Receipts.
Letters.
Photographs.
I spent four hours searching.
Then I found the envelope.
It was hidden inside an old book.
Emily's handwriting was on the front.
D — DON'T OPEN UNTIL YOU KNOW ABOUT VICTORIA.
My hands shook.
I opened it.
Inside was one photograph.
Emily had circled a woman in black ink.
Victoria.
Standing beside Michael.
They were outside a restaurant.
Victoria was younger.
Her hair was shorter.
Michael had one hand on her shoulder.
On the back of the photograph was a date.
March 14.
Two years before I met Victoria.
And beneath it, Emily had written:
They knew each other before she came into our lives.
I stared at the photograph.
Then noticed something else.
There was a second person standing in the background.
A man.
I enlarged the photograph.
My breath stopped.
I knew him.
He had been one of Michael's closest business associates.
Richard Cole.
But Richard had died eighteen months earlier.
At least, that was what I had been told.
I immediately called Robert.
“Find Richard Cole.”
Silence.
“Robert?”
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
“Daniel…”
“Find him.”
“I thought he was dead.”
“So did I.”
That night, I went to the guesthouse where Victoria had been staying.
Security had cleared the property.
Her belongings remained untouched.
I walked into the bedroom.
Perfume.
Clothes.
Jewelry.
Photographs.
Everything looked normal.
Too normal.
I opened the closet.
Nothing.
The dresser.
Nothing.
Then I noticed a loose floorboard.
I knelt.
Pulled it up.
There was a small metal box beneath it.
No lock.
Inside were several passports.
Different names.
Different photographs.
Same woman.
Victoria.
I opened the first.
Victoria Elise Grant.
The second.
Elena Voss.
The third.
Sarah Miller.
The fourth had no photograph.
Only a name.
Amelia Blackwood.
I froze.
My wife's name.
My hands began trembling.
Why would Victoria possess a passport under Emily's name?
I opened it.
The photograph had been removed.
But there was something inside the passport.
A hotel receipt.
The date was three weeks before Emily died.
The hotel was across the street from the hospital where Emily had been treated.
I felt sick.
I pulled out my phone.
“Robert.”
“Yes?”
“Victoria had a passport under Emily's name.”
Silence.
Then:
“Get out of the house.”
“Why?”
“Because if she had that passport…”
Robert's voice became urgent.
“…she may have been inside the hospital under Emily's identity.”
I looked toward the bedroom door.
For a moment, I thought I heard footsteps.
I turned.
Nothing.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message.
Unknown number.
YOU'RE LOOKING IN THE WRONG PLACE.
Another message appeared.
ASK GRACE WHAT HAPPENED THE NIGHT EMILY DIED.
I stared at the screen.
Then I heard a sound behind me.
A floorboard creaked.
I spun around.
Grace stood in the doorway.
Her face was pale.
“You shouldn't have found that.”
I stared at her.
“What happened that night?”
She didn't answer.
“Grace.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I promised Emily.”
“You promised her what?”
“To protect you.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
She shook her head.
“I can't.”
“You can.”
“No.”
“Why?”
She whispered:
“Because the person who caused your wife's death may still be watching this house.”
The room went cold.
I stepped toward her.
“Who?”
Grace looked behind me.
Then she whispered the words that would change everything.
“It wasn't Victoria.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“Victoria was only the messenger.”
My heart began pounding.
“Then who?”
Grace looked at the passport in my hand.
“Someone who had access to Emily's medical records.”
“Who?”
She swallowed.
“Your brother.”
I found Michael's car outside the estate at 11:43 that night.
He hadn't called.
He hadn't announced himself.
He was simply sitting in the driver's seat.
Waiting.
I walked toward him.
He lowered the window.
“You shouldn't be investigating this.”
I stopped.
“Why?”
“Because you don't understand what Emily was involved in.”
My blood ran cold.
“My wife wasn't involved in anything.”
Michael looked at me.
“You think she was innocent.”
“She was.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“She found something she shouldn't have.”
“What?”
He stared at the house.
Then at me.
“She found out who Victoria really worked for.”
“Who?”
Michael didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
“You.”
He smiled sadly.
“You still don't understand.”
“What don't I understand?”
Michael started the engine.
Before driving away, he lowered the window one last time.
“Victoria wasn't sent to destroy your family.”
I watched him.
“She was sent to protect it.”
“From whom?”
Michael looked directly at me.
“From you.”
The car disappeared into the darkness.
I stood alone outside the estate.
His words shouldn't have frightened me.
They did.
Because deep down, a terrible possibility had begun forming.
What if Emily hadn't been investigating Victoria because she believed Victoria was trying to destroy our family?
What if Emily had discovered something about me?
Something my brother and Victoria had been using against me?
I returned to the house.
Noah was asleep upstairs.
Grace was waiting in the library.
She had placed another envelope on the desk.
My name was written across it in Emily's handwriting.
I stared at it.
“What is this?”
Grace whispered:
“Emily gave it to me the night before she died.”
I looked at the envelope.
“Why didn't you give it to me before?”
“Because she told me not to.”
“Why now?”
Grace looked toward the staircase.
“Because Victoria is gone.”
My eyes narrowed.
“What do you mean?”
“She wasn't taken into custody.”
I froze.
“What?”
Grace shook her head.
“She escaped before the police arrived.”
I looked at the envelope again.
My hands moved toward it.
Grace whispered:
“She told me that if Victoria ever disappeared…”
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a single photograph.
Emily.
Michael.
Victoria.
And a fourth person.
Standing behind them.
Alive.
Richard Cole.
The man I had been told was dead.
On the back, Emily had written seven words:
Richard knows why I was supposed to die.
I stared at the photograph.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
No one spoke.
Then a man's voice whispered:
“Daniel.”
I recognized it immediately.
Richard Cole.
“You need to stop looking for Victoria.”
“Where are you?”
A quiet laugh.
“That's the wrong question.”
“Then what's the right one?”
Silence.
Then:
“Ask yourself why your wife was afraid of her.”
The call ended.
I stood in the dark library, holding the photograph.
For two years, I had believed Emily's death was the worst thing that had ever happened to me.
Now I understood.
Her death hadn't ended the danger.
It had started it.
And somewhere in the darkness, someone who was supposed to be dead was watching me uncover the truth.
The woman my wife feared had been lying to me.
My brother had been lying to me.
May you like
And now I had to discover the most terrifying lie of all:
What had Emily learned before she died that made all of them so desperate to silence her?
