Chapter 4
The line went dead.
I stared at my phone.
Daniel touched my shoulder.
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know.”
But that wasn’t completely true.
I knew the number.
And that terrified me more than the voice.
My father, Jonathan Bennett, had worked from the thirty-eighth floor of Hawthorne Tower for twenty-six years.
After his death, I had ordered his private office sealed.
The phone line had been disconnected.
At least, I thought it had.
Daniel asked, “What number?”
I showed him.
His face changed.
“You recognize it?”
“My father’s office.”
Charles made a sound behind me.
A tiny gasp.
I turned.
He was staring at my screen.
“You know that number too?”
“No.”
“You reacted.”
“I’m exhausted.”
I walked toward him.
“My father did business with you for seventeen years.”
“Through executives.”
“He knew you.”
Charles looked away.
There was too much fear in that house.
And too many people pretending it belonged to somebody else.
I called Richard.
“Can you trace an incoming call?”
“With company security, yes. Send me the number.”
“It’s Dad’s old office line.”
Silence.
Then Richard said, “That line doesn’t exist anymore.”
“It just called me.”
Another silence.
“I’ll look.”
Daniel raised the forged papers.
“Claire, we need to leave.”
I nodded.
There was nothing left for me inside the Walker estate except danger.
The police were still downstairs.
Ethan had not been arrested yet because the officers were completing statements and determining charges.
I packed nothing.
I changed out of my wedding dress in the bathroom.
My hands shook as I unzipped it.
The fabric was stained gray.
The skirt smelled like detergent and dirty water.
I folded it carefully.
I didn’t know why.
Maybe because the dress had done nothing wrong.
I put on jeans and a sweater from my suitcase.
When I came downstairs carrying the dress in a garment bag, Margaret stared at me.
“You’re really leaving?”
I almost smiled.
“You sound surprised.”
“You’re married.”
“Not for long.”
Ethan stepped toward me.
“Don’t make decisions tonight.”
I stopped.
“You made yours.”
“I was angry.”
“You were comfortable.”
“What does that mean?”
“You hit me like you believed nothing would happen afterward.”
His face tightened.
“That tells me this wasn’t some accident.”
“Claire—”
“You expected me to forgive you.”
I looked at Margaret.
“And she expected me to obey.”
Margaret’s chin lifted.
“A marriage takes sacrifice.”
I laughed.
“You mean mine.”
Charles sat silently at the kitchen table.
He seemed to have aged ten years in an hour.
I turned to Olivia.
“Come with me.”
Everybody stared.
Olivia’s eyes widened.
“What?”
“You shouldn’t stay here tonight.”
Margaret exploded.
“You are not taking my daughter!”
Olivia was twenty-four.
She looked at her mother.
“Yes, she is.”
Margaret lunged toward her.
Charles caught his wife’s arm.
“Enough!”
Margaret spun on him.
“You let this girl destroy our family and now you’re helping her steal our daughter?”
“Our daughter is an adult.”
“You’re pathetic.”
Charles let go.
Something passed between them.
Years of resentment.
Years of secrets.
Maybe their marriage had been rotting long before I entered it.
Olivia grabbed her purse.
She came with us.
As we reached the front door, Ethan called my name.
I turned.
His eyes were red.
Not angry anymore.
Desperate.
“Did you ever love me?”
The question stunned me.
I walked back until only a few feet separated us.
“Yes.”
His face crumpled.
“That’s why this hurts.”
He whispered, “I love you.”
I believed that he believed it.
Which somehow made everything worse.
“You loved me enough to marry me.”
I looked at my bruised wrist.
“But not enough to respect me.”
I left.
Daniel drove.
Olivia sat beside me in the back seat.
Nobody spoke for several minutes.
Chicago passed outside the windows, bright and indifferent.
People were leaving restaurants.
Cabs moved through intersections.
A couple laughed on a sidewalk.
My wedding night was ending while the rest of the world continued normally.
My phone buzzed.
Richard.
“I traced the call.”
I sat straighter.
“And?”
“It didn’t originate from Hawthorne Tower.”
“Where?”
“A voice-over-IP relay. Whoever called spoofed your father’s number.”
“Can you find the source?”
“Working on it.”
Daniel asked, “Any connection to Robert?”
“Unknown.”
I looked at Olivia.
“Why would Robert have my father’s trust papers?”
She shook her head.
“I didn’t even know he knew your father.”
Daniel said, “Charles certainly did.”
I turned.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
He hesitated.
That was unusual for Daniel.
He had been my father’s attorney before becoming mine.
“Daniel.”
“Your father and Charles Walker had a serious dispute about four years ago.”
I stared.
“Four years ago?”
“Yes.”
“That’s when Dad died.”
Olivia looked between us.
Daniel continued carefully.
“I didn’t know the dispute involved the trust. Jonathan never gave me details.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because after your father died, Charles disappeared from every Hawthorne-related negotiation. Your board dealt with his CFO instead.”
“What was the dispute about?”
“I believed it was debt restructuring.”
“Believed?”
“Your father was unusually secretive during his final month.”
I leaned back.
My father had died from what doctors called a sudden cardiac event.
He was fifty-nine.
Healthy.
Disciplined.
It had always felt unfair.
But never suspicious.
Until tonight.
“Did Dad think someone was stealing from Hawthorne?”
Daniel looked out the window.
“I don’t know.”
Olivia whispered, “Maybe he found North Lake.”
Richard spoke through the phone.
“North Lake didn’t exist four years ago.”
“So something else.”
“Yes.”
The car turned toward Northwestern Memorial Hospital.
Before we arrived, Richard called again.
“I found something strange.”
“What?”
“Your father’s old executive archive was accessed six days ago.”
My heartbeat jumped.
“By whom?”
“We’re checking.”
“That archive is sealed.”
“Exactly.”
Daniel looked at me.
“Where is the physical archive?”
“Hawthorne Tower.”
Richard interrupted.
“The physical archive is secure. I mean the digital archive.”
“Can you see what was accessed?”
“One folder.”
“What folder?”
Richard hesitated.
“Walker.”
Olivia went pale.
I asked, “What was inside?”
“I can’t tell anymore.”
“Why?”
“Someone deleted it.”
I closed my eyes.
“Can you recover it?”
“I’m calling forensic IT.”
The hospital examined my wrist and cheek.
No fractures.
Bruising.
Soft-tissue injury.
The doctor asked whether I felt safe going home.
I almost laughed at the word home.
My apartment had been mostly emptied because I planned to move into the Walker estate.
Daniel arranged a suite at a secure hotel owned by one of Hawthorne’s hospitality investments.
By three in the morning, Olivia and I were inside.
She sat on the sofa while I stood near the window.
“Claire?”
I turned.
She twisted her fingers together.
“There’s something else.”
Of course there was.
I sat opposite her.
“Tell me everything.”
She swallowed.
“Ethan dated someone before you.”
“That isn’t exactly shocking.”
“No. But she worked at Hawthorne.”
I froze.
“What was her name?”
“Emily Carter.”
I knew that name.
My stomach tightened.
Emily had been a junior analyst in Hawthorne’s acquisitions department.
She resigned nearly two years ago.
Suddenly.
No notice.
No explanation.
I remembered because my father had once spoken highly of her.
“How serious were they?”
“Very.”
“When did they break up?”
“Right before Ethan met you.”
I stared.
“Did Ethan meet me through Emily?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did your family know Emily worked at Hawthorne?”
Olivia nodded.
“Dad did.”
I stood.
Everything was connecting too neatly.
Financial information.
Ethan discovering my identity before meeting me.
A former Hawthorne employee.
Forged documents.
The Walker financial collapse.
My father’s secret dispute.
I called Richard again.
“Find Emily Carter.”
“At three in the morning?”
“Yes.”
Daniel said, “Let me handle that.”
Richard typed in the background.
Then stopped.
“Claire.”
My chest tightened.
“What?”
“Emily Carter didn’t just resign.”
“What do you mean?”
“She filed an internal whistleblower complaint two days before leaving.”
I gripped the phone.
“Against whom?”
“The complaint is sealed.”
“Unseal it.”
“You can authorize that?”
“It’s my company.”
“Give me ten minutes.”
Olivia stood.
“Claire, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For Ethan.”
I looked at her.
“You didn’t marry him.”
“No, but I knew things.”
“You didn’t know this.”
“I knew my family wanted your money.”
That hurt.
“How much did you know?”
“Not thirty million. Not forged documents.”
She started crying.
“But I heard my mother call you our solution.”
I closed my eyes.
“Before the engagement?”
“Yes.”
“How long before?”
“Months.”
I felt nauseated.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Ethan told me he really loved you.”
“And you believed him.”
“Yes.”
“So did I.”
My phone rang.
Richard.
That had not taken ten minutes.
I answered.
“I got the complaint.”
“And?”
His voice sounded different.
“Emily accused a senior Hawthorne executive of secretly passing confidential lending information to Walker Development.”
“Who?”
Richard didn’t answer immediately.
“Who, Richard?”
“Your father’s chief operating officer at the time.”
I stopped breathing.
“Marcus Reed?”
“Yes.”
Marcus had been one of my father’s closest friends.
He had carried my father’s coffin.
He had stood beside me at the funeral.
He had resigned from Hawthorne six months later and moved to Florida.
I asked, “What happened to Emily’s complaint?”
“It was closed.”
“By whom?”
Another pause.
“Jonathan.”
My father.
The room went silent.
I stared at nothing.
“Why would Dad close it?”
“There’s a handwritten note attached.”
“What does it say?”
Richard read it.
“Do not pursue internally. Evidence compromised. Keep Claire away from Walker family until I understand who is involved.”
My knees almost gave out.
Daniel caught my arm.
Olivia covered her mouth.
Dad knew.
Four years before my wedding, my father had written my name and the Walker family in the same warning.
And somehow, despite everything he had tried to prevent, I had married Ethan anyway.
Richard continued.
“There’s a second page.”
“What does it say?”
His voice lowered.
“It has only three words.”
I waited.
May you like
Richard said,
“If I die.”
