Chapter 7: The Truth Hidden in the Drive
The photograph of Emma outside Ethan’s office haunted me.
Not because I believed it.
Because a part of me feared I did.
I spent my entire life defending my sister.
When people compared us, I told them they were wrong.
When relatives praised me and ignored her, I reminded them how brilliant she was.
When she cried after losing opportunities, I was the person who held her hand.
I never imagined I would sit in a room and wonder if my own sister had been the person destroying my life.
My father took the flash drive from the table.
“Before we assume anything,” he said, “we verify.””
Patricia nodded.
“That’s fair.””
Emma looked terrified.
“Dad, please.””
He turned toward her.
“Please what?””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Please don’t look at me like I’m a stranger.””
My chest tightened.
Because that was exactly how I felt.
A stranger.
A person wearing my sister’s face.
My father walked to his laptop and inserted the drive.
Everyone watched the screen.
Folders appeared.
Hundreds of files.
Financial records.
Emails.
Voice recordings.
Photos.
My father opened the first folder.
The title made my stomach drop.
*Project: Hayes Family Acquisition.*
“What is that?”” I whispered.
My father didn’t answer.
He clicked the next file.
A recording began playing.
At first, there was only static.
Then a familiar voice.
Emma.
“I don’t care how you feel about her.””
My entire body froze.
It was my sister.
The recording continued.
“She’s emotional. She trusts people too easily. Once she’s married, everything becomes easier.””
Nobody spoke.
Emma covered her mouth.
“That’s not—”
My father raised a hand.
“Wait.””
Another voice appeared.
Ethan.
“You said she wouldn’t get hurt.””
Emma answered:
“She won’t. She’ll have everything she wants.””
Ethan sounded angry.
“That’s not what I asked.””
Emma replied:
“Ethan, stop pretending you’re different. You agreed because you needed access.””
The recording ended.
Silence filled the room.
I looked at Emma.
She was crying.
“Explain.””
Her lips trembled.
“I can explain.””
I shook my head.
“You’ve said that so many times.””
She looked down.
“I made a mistake.””
“A mistake?””
My voice cracked.
“You planned my marriage.””
“No.””
“Then what was it?””
She wiped her tears.
“I thought I was helping.””
I stood.
“Helping who?””
She looked at me.
“Everyone.””
I almost laughed.
“That’s what people say when they hurt someone and don’t want to admit it.””
Emma looked destroyed.
But I couldn’t comfort her.
Not this time.
My father continued opening files.
Then he stopped.
His expression changed.
“What?””
I walked closer.
On the screen was a document.
A transfer record.
Money moving from a private account.
Into another account.
The account holder’s name was visible.
My father stared.
“No.””
I looked at him.
“What?””
He zoomed in.
The account belonged to someone inside his company.
Someone who had worked for him for twenty years.
Someone he trusted.
Patricia leaned forward.
“That’s what Ethan discovered.””
My father looked at her.
“How?””
“Because he wasn’t investigating you.””
She looked at me.
“He was investigating the person who was using your family.””
I thought about Ethan.
The cruel words.
The towel.
The way he looked afraid when my father arrived.
Could someone truly hurt me to save me?
Or was this just another lie?
I didn’t know anymore.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone looked at it.
I answered.
“Hello?””
A man’s voice responded.
“You found the drive.””
My blood went cold.
“Who is this?””
The voice laughed softly.
“You should ask your sister.””
Emma looked terrified.
“What did you do?””
The voice continued.
“You’re finally seeing the truth.””
I gripped the phone.
“Who are you?””
A pause.
Then:
“Someone who knows your family better than you do.””
The call ended.
My father immediately tried to trace it.
But the line was already gone.
Then a new message appeared.
A location.
And one sentence.
*Come alone if you want to know why your husband married you.*
I stared at the screen.
My father saw it.
“No.””
I looked at him.
“I need answers.””
“You are not going alone.””
But before I could respond, another message arrived.
This time, it was a photograph.
Ethan.
Sitting in a car.
His face bruised.
May you like
And underneath it were four words.
*He never left willingly.*
