Chapter 4: The Man Who Knew My Mother's Last Secret
My father called Renata back three times.
She didn't answer.
Martin immediately photographed the hotel receipt, the notebook, and the legal documents before placing them in separate evidence sleeves he'd brought from his briefcase. Then he turned to my father.
“Daniel, we need to leave this facility and contact the authorities. If Victor Hale is involved in the unauthorized transfers, he may already know we're investigating.””
Dad stared at his phone.
“He was my financial controller for twelve years. I trusted him with everything.””
“And apparently, he knew your wife before she died,” Martin replied.
“My wife?””
“Your first wife,” Martin corrected gently.
“Margaret.””
Dad looked away.
I stood beside the wooden chest, clutching the letter my mother had written for me. I had read it twice, but one sentence kept repeating in my head.
I wanted you to be able to leave a place where you were unhappy without fearing that you would lose your future.
Had she known what Renata would become?
Had she suspected that my father would one day marry the woman she'd once trusted?
I wanted answers, but I was afraid of what those answers might cost us.
“Dad,” I whispered, “did you know Renata before she met you?””
He turned toward me.
“No. She told me she worked in event management. We met at a charity dinner three years after your mother died.””
“But the photograph shows them together years before that.””
“I know.””
“Then she lied to you.””
His face tightened.
“Yes, sweetheart. She did.””
Martin placed the last document into his briefcase.
“We'll establish exactly what she concealed. But we must be careful. The documents are evidence of possible financial misconduct, not proof of every suspicion we have.””
Dad nodded.
We returned to the car.
As we drove toward the highway, I watched Portland's buildings slide past the window. My mother had lived and worked in this city. She'd walked these streets, entered these shops, and perhaps spent her last ordinary afternoon wondering whom she could trust.
I'd always imagined her final days as quiet and uncomplicated.
Now every memory seemed to have a shadow behind it.
My father broke the silence.
“Emily, there's something you need to know about Renata.””
I turned toward him.
“When we first started dating, she told me she'd known your mother through a business association. She said they'd met at a fundraiser once, years ago, and that Margaret had been kind to her.””
“That's not what the photograph looks like.””
“No.””
He rubbed his face.
“I didn't question it. I was lonely, and she seemed to understand what it was like to lose someone.””
“Did she ever talk about Mom?””
“Not much. Whenever I mentioned her, Renata would say we needed to focus on the future.””
I looked at the letter on my lap.
“And you believed her?””
Dad flinched.
“I wanted to.””
That answer hurt more than a denial would have.
We reached the main road just after three. Martin was arranging a meeting with a forensic accountant when Dad's phone rang again.
This time, the caller was Blair.
“Dad?”” she said, crying.
“Where are you?””
“On my way home. What's wrong?””
“Mom's packing.””
Dad straightened.
“Packing what?””
“Her suitcases. She says we're leaving tonight.””
A muffled voice sounded in the background.
Then Blair spoke again.
“She says you can't throw us out. She says the house belongs to her, too.””
Dad's hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“Blair, listen to me. Don't touch anything in my study. Don't remove any papers or electronic devices. Do you understand?””
“Why are you talking like that?””
“Because I need you to stay out of anything that doesn't belong to you.””
Blair began crying harder.
“Dad, please. I don't know what's happening. Mom won't tell me anything.””
For the first time, she sounded less like the girl who had laughed while my dress sank into the chemical bin and more like someone terrified of losing the only home she'd known.
“Stay in your room,” Dad said.
“I'll be there soon.””
He ended the call.
I watched him for a moment.
“Do you think Blair knew about the money?””
“I don't know.””
“She's always had everything she wanted.””
“Emily, being spoiled doesn't make someone a criminal.””
I looked down at my hands.
He was right.
I hated how difficult it was to separate Blair's cruelty toward me from whatever her mother might have done.
But I couldn't forget her laughter as she watched my dress disappear.
“Can you still trust her?”” I asked.
Dad took a long breath.
“I can love someone without trusting every decision they make.””
We arrived home shortly before five.
Renata's silver SUV was gone, but two suitcases stood beside the front door. Blair sat on the staircase with her knees drawn to her chest.
When she saw me, she stood.
“You.””
I stopped.
She looked at the clothes I was wearing, then at the empty space where my ruined dress should have been.
“Are you happy now?”” she demanded.
“Blair,” Dad warned.
“No! She's been waiting for this. She wants Mom gone so she can have you and all your money!””
I stared at her.
“I didn't destroy your dress. Your mother destroyed mine.””
“And you made Dad burn ours!””
“You were laughing!””
The words burst out of me before I could stop them.
“You stood there laughing while she cut up the one thing he bought me because he wanted me to have one good evening. You held my arm while she threw it into that bin!””
Blair's mouth trembled.
“I didn't think she'd actually ruin it.””
“But you watched.””
Her eyes filled with tears.
For a moment, I thought she might apologize.
Instead, she looked at Dad.
“You're really choosing her?””
Dad's expression hardened.
“This isn't a competition between my daughters.””
“She isn't your daughter the way I am!””
The silence that followed was absolute.
Dad stared at her.
“Emily is my daughter. You are my stepdaughter. Neither relationship gives either of you permission to hurt the other.””
Blair's face crumpled.
She grabbed her suitcase and dragged it toward the door.
“Fine. I'll go wherever Mom goes.””
Dad didn't stop her.
But before she reached the entrance, Martin stepped inside behind us.
“Daniel, I need a word.””
He glanced at Blair's luggage, then lowered his voice.
“The company records department just confirmed that Victor Hale accessed the archived financial files this morning.””
Dad's eyes narrowed.
“How?””
“His former credentials should have been disabled years ago. Someone restored them last week.””
“Who authorized it?””
Martin held out his tablet.
The approval record contained a name.
Renata Vale.
Dad closed his eyes.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then Blair's phone buzzed.
She looked down at the screen.
I saw the color drain from her face.
“What is it?”” I asked.
“Nothing.””
She quickly locked the phone.
Dad stepped toward her.
“Blair, show me.””
“No!””
“Did your mother contact you?””
Blair backed away.
“I'm not getting involved.””
“Then why do you look frightened?””
She clutched the phone against her chest.
“Because you keep acting like Mom's some kind of monster! She told me she was protecting us!””
“Protecting you from what?””
Blair's eyes darted toward me.
Then she whispered something I hadn't expected.
“From what happened to Emily's mother.””
My father went completely still.
Martin slowly lowered his tablet.
I couldn't feel my fingers.
“What did you just say?”” Dad asked.
Blair began shaking her head.
“I shouldn't have said anything.””
“Blair.””
“Mom told me never to talk about it. She said if you ever found out, everything would fall apart.””
Dad stepped closer.
“What happened to Margaret?””
Blair looked at me, and for the first time in our lives, there was no contempt in her expression.
Only fear.
“I don't know exactly,” she whispered.
“But I heard Mom talking to Victor last night.””
“What did they say?””
Blair swallowed.
“She said the original recording was still missing.””
Martin's briefcase slipped slightly in his hand.
“Recording of what?”” he asked.
Blair stared at the phone.
Then she turned it around.
A message from Renata filled the screen.
*If your father asks about Margaret, tell him you know nothing. If Emily asks, don't let her near the study.*
Below it was another message.
*The recording must never be played.*
Dad read both messages.
Then he looked at me.
“Emily, go upstairs and lock your bedroom door.””
“Dad—”
“Please.””
I obeyed reluctantly.
As I climbed the staircase, I heard Martin speaking in a low, urgent voice.
“Daniel, if that recording exists, we need to find it before Victor does.””
My father answered with a sentence that stopped me halfway up the stairs.
“If that recording proves what I think it proves, Renata hasn't just stolen from my daughter.””
May you like
He paused.
“She may have built our entire marriage on the lie that killed Margaret.””
