Chapter 4
I ended the call without saying goodbye.
Dad pulled the car completely into a parking space.
Lily was in the back seat with headphones on, watching a cartoon on his tablet.
She couldn’t hear us.
That mattered.
Because I was about to explode.
“What did she mean?”
Dad stared through the windshield.
“Emily.”
“Why would Daniel be paying you?”
“He hasn’t.”
“She said six years.”
“She’s lying.”
“How do I know?”
That hurt him.
I saw it.
But I couldn’t take it back.
Six years of Daniel telling me my father was controlling.
Six years of Dad telling me Daniel was dangerous.
I had always assumed one of them simply hated the other.
Now I had found a secret room full of forged financial documents.
And both families apparently knew secrets about my marriage that I didn’t.
Dad turned toward me.
“I have never taken a dollar from your husband.”
“Then why would Helen say that?”
“Because Daniel is in trouble.”
“She sounded scared.”
“She should be.”
I shook my head.
“Answer the other question.”
“What?”
“Where were you the night before my wedding?”
Dad closed his eyes.
That was enough.
I felt my stomach sink.
“You were with Daniel.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He came to see me.”
“About what?”
Dad glanced toward Lily.
Then lowered his voice.
“About you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“Emily, listen.”
“No, you listen. Everyone keeps deciding what I’m allowed to know.”
“You’re right.”
That stopped me.
Dad looked older than he had that morning.
“I should’ve told you.”
“So tell me now.”
He nodded.
“The night before your wedding, Daniel came to our house around eleven.”
“I was staying at Mom’s sister’s house.”
“I know.”
“What did he want?”
“He wanted me to stop looking into his past.”
My mouth went dry.
“What past?”
Dad leaned back.
“When you first introduced him to us, I liked him.”
That surprised me.
“You never acted like it.”
“At first I did.”
He was right.
I had forgotten.
Daniel had once gone fishing with Dad.
He had helped Mom build shelves in her garage.
For the first year, my parents loved him.
Dad continued.
“Then you started canceling family dinners.”
“Daniel worked long hours.”
“That’s what you said.”
“Because it was true.”
“Maybe sometimes.”
I folded my arms.
“Get to the point.”
Dad nodded.
“One night, your mother called you. Daniel answered. He told her you were sleeping.”
“So?”
“Ten minutes later, you called me from a gas station.”
I remembered.
Vaguely.
Daniel and I had argued.
I had driven away crying.
I told Dad it was nothing.
Dad had asked if Daniel hit me.
I said no.
He hadn’t.
Not that night.
“He punched a hole in the bedroom door,” I whispered.
Dad looked at me.
“You told me you dropped something.”
“I lied.”
“I knew.”
He continued.
“After that, I checked public records. Nothing illegal. Just things that bothered me. Different addresses. A lawsuit from an old landlord. A restraining-order petition that had been filed and withdrawn.”
I stared at him.
“Against Daniel?”
“Yes.”
“By who?”
“A woman named Rebecca Sloan.”
I had never heard the name.
“She was his girlfriend before you.”
Daniel told me he had been single for two years before we met.
Dad saw my face.
“I contacted her.”
“You what?”
“I wanted to know if you were safe.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing at first.”
Dad paused.
“Then three days before the wedding, she called me.”
My pulse quickened.
“She said Daniel had been controlling. That he monitored her phone, isolated her from friends, took money from her account.”
The parking lot suddenly felt too small.
“She said he hit her?”
Dad hesitated.
“Yes.”
I looked away.
My entire marriage flashed through my mind.
Different woman.
Same pattern.
“What happened?”
“She filed for protection after he shoved her down a stairwell. Then she withdrew it.”
“Why?”
“She was afraid.”
I swallowed hard.
“And Daniel found out you spoke to her.”
“Yes.”
“He came to your house.”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Dad’s eyes hardened at the memory.
“He told me Rebecca was unstable. He said I was trying to ruin your wedding. Then he threatened to tell you I had investigated him because I didn’t think you were capable of choosing your own husband.”
“That would’ve worked.”
“I know.”
I hated that answer because it was true.
Back then, Daniel had already convinced me Dad didn’t respect my choices.
“If you knew all this, why did you let me marry him?”
Dad’s face broke.
“I begged you to postpone.”
I remembered.
Dad had told me the night before the wedding that he had a bad feeling.
But he never told me why.
I had screamed at him.
I told him if he couldn’t support me, he didn’t need to come.
Mom convinced him to attend.
“You should’ve told me about Rebecca.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because she asked me not to use her name. She had moved. She was terrified he’d find her.”
“So you protected her.”
“I thought I was.”
“And left me walking down the aisle.”
Dad’s eyes filled.
“I made the wrong choice.”
Silence.
Then I asked, “What does this have to do with money?”
“It doesn’t.”
“Then why did Helen say Daniel paid you?”
“I don’t know.”
A horrible thought occurred to me.
“What if he did?”
Dad stared at me.
“What?”
“What if he sent money in your name? Or made it look like he did?”
Dad’s expression changed.
That was possible.
After what we had found, anything was.
He reached for his phone.
“I’m calling my bank.”
The bank couldn’t discuss six years of transactions instantly, but Dad found something himself.
A recurring deposit.
Five hundred dollars.
Every month.
For six years.
He stared at the screen.
“What?”
I leaned closer.
The deposits went into an old savings account Dad rarely used.
They were labeled BNT PROPERTY SERVICES.
“Do you know them?”
“No.”
“Six years?”
His face drained.
“I haven’t checked this account in years. It was your grandmother’s emergency account. I keep a small balance there.”
I calculated.
“Thirty-six thousand dollars.”
Dad swore.
“Daniel.”
“Can you prove it’s him?”
“No.”
Then Dad looked at me.
“But I know how he could’ve gotten the account number.”
“How?”
“You had it.”
I went cold.
Years ago, Dad had added me to that account in case something happened to him.
Daniel had handled our taxes.
He had copied every financial document I owned.
Suddenly Helen’s accusation made sense.
Daniel had built evidence.
Not just against me.
Against Dad.
“He planned this.”
Dad’s voice was barely audible.
“He wanted a way to make me look compromised if I ever came after him.”
My phone buzzed.
Another message from Helen.
I HAVE PROOF.
Then a photograph arrived.
A bank statement showing transfers from one of Daniel’s business accounts to BNT Property Services.
Dad and I stared.
A second photograph came.
This one showed a signed agreement.
At the bottom was my father’s name.
Thomas Bennett.
His signature.
The document said Dad had accepted monthly payments in exchange for keeping confidential information about Daniel’s previous relationship private.
My hands turned numb.
Dad whispered, “That is not my signature.”
It looked exactly like it.
Another message.
MEET ME ALONE IF YOU WANT THE ORIGINALS.
Dad immediately said, “No.”
I looked at him.
“You’re not meeting her.”
“She has documents.”
“She can bring them to police.”
“She won’t.”
“Then they’re bait.”
Maybe.
Probably.
But there was something else.
Helen knew Daniel better than anyone.
And she was frightened enough to contact me while her son sat in jail.
I replied.
WHY ARE YOU HELPING ME?
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Appeared again.
Finally:
BECAUSE I HELPED HIM HIDE THE FIRST TIME HE HURT A WOMAN.
I read it twice.
Then another message came.
AND I WON’T HELP HIM DO IT TO LILY.
I looked back at my daughter.
She was asleep now.
Head against the window.
Pink headphones crooked over her ears.
I knew what I had to do.
“We’re going to the police.”
Dad nodded.
“With everything.”
“Yes.”
Then my phone rang.
Not Helen.
The county jail.
I almost rejected it.
Dad stopped me.
“Answer. Put it on speaker.”
I did.
A recorded voice announced the call.
Then Daniel spoke.
“Emily.”
Hearing him made my chest tighten.
“You found the room.”
I said nothing.
“I know you’re with your father.”
Dad stayed silent.
Daniel laughed softly.
“He tell you he’s innocent?”
“What do you want?”
“I want my daughter.”
My blood turned cold.
“You’re not getting near her.”
“We’ll see.”
“Daniel—”
“You think getting me arrested means you win?”
I looked at sleeping Lily.
“This isn’t a game.”
“No. It’s a marriage.”
“A marriage you destroyed.”
Silence.
Then his voice became softer.
“You want to know why I kept those files?”
“Yes.”
“Because your father has spent six years trying to take you away from me.”
“No.”
“And now he finally did it.”
“You hit me.”
“You made me angry.”
There it was.
No apology.
No denial.
Just blame.
I closed my eyes.
Daniel continued.
“You should ask your father one more question.”
Dad’s jaw tightened.
“Stop.”
Daniel heard him.
“Oh, Thomas is there.”
Then he laughed.
“Perfect.”
“Daniel, what question?”
Dad shook his head.
But I asked again.
“What question?”
Daniel’s answer came slowly.
“Ask him why Rebecca Sloan disappeared two weeks after your wedding.”
Dad went completely still.
My skin prickled.
“What does that mean?”
Daniel didn’t answer.
“Daniel?”
The recorded warning said the call was nearly over.
Then Daniel whispered:
May you like
“Your father knows exactly what it means.”
The line went dead.
