Chapter 11: The Bride’s Secret
Victoria answered on the fourth call.
“Nathan.””
“Where are you?””
Silence.
“Victoria.””
“I’m safe.””
“With Thomas?””
Another silence.
That was enough.
“You lied to me.””
“Yes.””
The word came so easily that it hurt more than denial.
“Come back.””
“I can’t.””
“You can.””
“No. Because once I come back, you’ll never listen.””
“I’m listening now.””
She breathed shakily.
“My father introduced me to Thomas when I was nineteen.””
“Why?””
“Because Thomas managed investments for our family.””
“And the shell companies?””
“I didn’t know about those then.””
“Then?””
“Three years ago.””
The timeline hit me.
Three years ago.
Victoria and I had met two years ago.
“You knew before we met.””
“Yes.””
Claire closed her eyes beside me.
My mother whispered, “Nathan…”
I lifted one hand.
Nobody interrupted.
“Was meeting me arranged?””
Victoria started crying.
“Yes.””
The answer hollowed me out.
“Did you ever love me?””
“Yes.””
“Was that arranged too?””
“No.””
“How am I supposed to know?””
“You can’t.””
At least that was true.
“What did Thomas want?””
“He needed the merger.””
“So you dated me.””
“At first.””
“At first?””
“I was supposed to get close to you. Encourage the deal. Make our families look united.””
“And marriage?””
“That wasn’t part of the plan.””
I laughed bitterly.
“You expect me to find that comforting?””
“No.””
“Did your father know?””
“He designed most of it.””
I looked at the ledger.
“Richard Ashford.””
“Yes.””
“Is he part of the network?””
“Yes.””
“Where are you?””
Victoria hesitated.
Then said, “Your old family house.””
Connecticut.
The estate where I had grown up.
“Why?””
“Because Thomas says there’s something here you need to see.””
“I’m coming.””
“Nathan, wait—”
I ended the call.
Claire grabbed my arm.
“You can’t keep walking into traps.””
“She knows something.””
“So does everyone.””
She was right.
Rebecca closed the ledger.
“I’m going with you.””
“No.””
“I know that house.””
I stared at her.
“How?””
“Because Arthur Hale used it before your family did.””
My mother looked alarmed.
“Rebecca.””
“What?””
“You think there are secrets left worth protecting?””
Eleanor said nothing.
Two hours later, rain hammered the windshield as our vehicles climbed the road toward the Cole estate.
I hadn’t entered the house in nine years.
After my father died, I had locked it.
Too many memories.
Too much coldness.
The gates were already open.
That bothered me.
The front door was too.
“Stay behind me,” Marcus said.
Rebecca snorted.
“You’ve done such a wonderful job protecting this family.””
Marcus ignored her.
Inside, the house smelled exactly as I remembered.
Cedar.
Old books.
Dust.
Then a woman stepped into the foyer.
Victoria.
Her wedding dress was gone.
She wore jeans and a gray sweater.
“Nathan.””
“Where’s Thomas?””
“Gone.””
“Convenient.””
“He brought me here and left.””
“Why?””
She held up a small envelope.
“He wanted me to give you this.””
I didn’t take it.
“What’s inside?””
“A key.””
Another key.
Of course.
“To what?””
Victoria looked toward the staircase.
“Your father’s study.””
“That room hasn’t been locked in years.””
“Not the room.””
She walked upstairs.
We followed.
My father’s study remained almost untouched.
His desk.
Leather chair.
Shelves filled with biographies he pretended to read.
Victoria crossed to the fireplace.
Then pressed one carved wooden panel.
Click.
A section of bookcase shifted.
I stared.
“You knew about this?””
“No.””
Rebecca did.
Her face had gone pale.
“Arthur’s room.””
Behind the shelves was a narrow chamber.
No windows.
One desk.
Metal filing cabinets.
A reel-to-reel recorder.
And photographs.
Hundreds of them.
My childhood.
My father.
My mother.
Thomas.
Rebecca.
Claire.
Even Lucy.
Claire rushed toward the wall.
“This was taken last year.””
Someone had photographed her pushing Lucy on a swing.
Another showed her entering a grocery store.
Another showed Milo’s mother, Anna.
Daniel tore a photograph down.
“They watched all of us.””
Rebecca opened a filing cabinet.
“Financial records.””
Marcus checked another.
“Personnel files.””
I noticed a small red box on the desk.
My name was written across it.
NATHAN.
Inside was a stack of letters.
All addressed to me.
All unopened.
Claire’s handwriting.
I looked at her.
She covered her mouth.
“My letters.””
Dozens.
Every attempt she had made to contact me.
Every truth stolen before it reached me.
At the bottom was a small cassette.
A label read:
FOR NATHAN — CHARLES COLE.
I inserted it into the recorder.
My father’s voice filled the hidden room.
“Nathan, if you are hearing this, then I failed to stop Thomas.””
Nobody breathed.
“I have spent most of my life protecting crimes I should have exposed.””
My father paused.
“Thomas knows I found Rebecca.””
Rebecca gripped her cane.
“He also knows Eleanor helped me move her out of the facility.””
My mother had saved Rebecca?
I looked at her.
She began crying.
My father continued.
“If anything happens to me, do not believe the official cause.””
My skin prickled.
My father had died of a heart attack.
Or so I had been told.
Then his next words froze everyone.
“I was poisoned once already.””
Daniel whispered, “Jesus.””
The tape crackled.
“And if Thomas succeeds the second time, Nathan, there is one person you must find.””
A pause.
“One person who knows everything.””
The tape stopped.
“No!””
I hit the machine.
Nothing.
Victoria pointed toward the cassette case.
“There’s writing underneath.””
I turned it over.
One name.
MARGARET SHAW.
May you like
Everyone looked toward the doorway.
Margaret was gone.
