Chapter 4: The Man Who Knew My Father Was Alive
“Your father sends his regards.””
Mr. Vale's words settled over the study like a death sentence.
I stared at him, searching his face for something familiar. A twitch of recognition. A sign that he was lying. Anything that might explain why a stranger had just spoken about my supposedly dead father as if they had exchanged Christmas cards yesterday.
Derek stood beside the door, his wedding ring catching the afternoon light. His mother had positioned herself near the fireplace, one hand resting on the mantel, her expression carefully composed.
Three people.
Three different kinds of danger.
And I was the only person in the room who didn't know the rules of their game.
“Who are you?”” I asked.
Mr. Vale removed a pair of black leather gloves, finger by finger.
“Martin Vale. I represent certain private interests connected to your father's former work.””
“That's a very polished way of saying nothing.””
His eyebrows lifted.
Derek muttered, “Chloe, don't start.””
I turned toward my husband.
“Your mother told me to apologize before dinner. You demanded my money. Now this man claims my father is alive. Forgive me if I'm struggling to follow the schedule.””
Brenda's fingers tightened around the mantel.
“Your father was a dishonest man,” she said.
“You should be grateful that people are willing to help you understand what he did.””
“Help me understand what?””
“Where he hid the money.””
There it was.
Not concern for my safety. Not a family emergency. Not even a convincing lie about my father's death.
Money.
I looked at Martin Vale.
“How much?””
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he walked to the desk and placed a slim leather folder on its polished surface.
“Your father removed records belonging to a private investment consortium. Those records contain account numbers, transaction histories, and the identities of individuals who would prefer to remain anonymous.””
“Were the records stolen?””
“They were taken without authorization.””
“That's not what I asked.””
Vale's expression cooled.
“Your father believed he was exposing financial misconduct. Other people believed he was destroying legitimate businesses. The truth, as usual, depends on whom you ask.””
I thought of the documents I'd copied three months earlier.
The suspicious transfers.
The shell companies.
The account that had received payments long after the date of my father's supposed death.
“Was Derek's company involved?”” I asked.
No one moved.
That was answer enough.
Derek stepped forward.
“You have no idea what you're talking about.””
“Then explain it.””
“This is business.””
“Apparently, it's family business now.””
Vale opened the folder.
Inside lay several photographs.
The first showed my father outside a hotel in London, wearing a dark coat and carrying a newspaper. The second showed him entering a small café. The third was taken from a distance, but I could still recognize the slight tilt of his head.
I had seen that posture in thousands of childhood photographs.
My father.
Alive.
The date printed beneath the third image was only four months old.
I reached for it.
Vale placed his palm over the photograph.
“Not so quickly.””
My heart hammered.
“Where is he?””
“That depends.””
“On what?””
“Whether you cooperate.””
I looked at Derek.
He was watching me with an intensity I had never seen before. The charm was gone. So was the manufactured patience he used whenever he wanted to make me feel unreasonable.
“You knew,” I whispered.
He said nothing.
“You knew my father was alive when you proposed.””
“Chloe—”
“You knew when you stood at the altar yesterday.””
“Listen to me.””
“You knew when you promised to protect me.””
He reached for my arm.
I stepped away.
“Don't touch me.””
His hand fell to his side.
Vale closed the folder.
“We have limited time. The people who originally financed your father's investigation have become impatient. They want the records returned before certain transactions become public.””
“Then go to the police.””
Brenda laughed.
A short, ugly sound.
“The police?””
She left the fireplace and approached me.
“Your father spent years convincing himself he was a hero. He ruined reputations, destroyed businesses, and dragged respectable people through investigations that never should have happened.””
“Were they guilty?””
Her expression hardened.
“That isn't the point.””
“It seems like exactly the point.””
She raised her hand as if she intended to slap me.
For a second, I thought she would.
Instead, she straightened the collar of my blouse with two sharp tugs.
“You are going to learn something about this family, Chloe. We do not allow outsiders to dictate how our affairs are handled.””
I looked at her fingers against my collar.
“I'm your son's wife.””
“Exactly. Which means you should understand that your behavior reflects on him.””
I gently removed her hand.
“Then perhaps he should behave better.””
Derek struck the desk with his palm.
“Enough!””
The sound startled even Vale.
My husband pointed at the folder.
“You have until six o'clock to tell us where the original records are.””
I glanced at the clock.
It was 1:17 p.m.
“And if I don't?””
Vale answered.
“Then your father's location becomes irrelevant.””
A chill moved through me.
“You'd hurt him?””
“I said nothing of the sort.””
“You didn't have to.””
Vale slid another photograph across the desk.
This one showed a small house beside a wooded road. A man stood on the porch, his face partly hidden by the shadow of a baseball cap.
Even through the grainy image, I recognized the way he held his shoulders.
My father.
Beneath the photograph was a handwritten address.
My fingers trembled as I picked it up.
“Is he there now?””
Vale watched me carefully.
“He was there three days ago.””
“Was?””
“Your father has a habit of disappearing when he senses danger.””
Derek gave a bitter laugh.
“He's always been good at that.””
I turned on him.
“You don't get to speak about him as if you know him.””
For a moment, Derek's face revealed something unexpected.
Resentment.
Not fear of Vale. Not anger at me.
Resentment toward my father.
“You think your father is innocent because he tucked you into bed and taught you how to ride a bicycle,” Derek said.
“You think a man who loves his daughter can't be capable of terrible things.””
“My father never tried to steal my money.””
“No. He just left you with a thousand unanswered questions and disappeared.””
The words struck harder than I wanted them to.
Because part of me had wondered the same thing for six years.
Why hadn't he found a way to contact me?
Why had he allowed me to believe he was dead?
Why had he left me alone with the grief?
Vale seized the silence.
“Your husband has made a reasonable offer. Give us the records, and we will help reunite you with your father.””
“And if I refuse?””
“We will continue looking.””
“For the records?””
“For everything.””
He closed the folder and slipped it beneath his arm.
“Six o'clock, Chloe. After that, I cannot promise what happens.””
He walked out.
Brenda followed him, pausing at the door to look back.
“Don't make this difficult for Derek. He has already done more for you than you deserve.””
Then she left too.
Derek remained.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Finally, he said, “You should have stayed upstairs.””
I stared at him.
“You should have married someone else.””
His face twisted.
“You have no idea what I sacrificed to make this marriage work.””
“You sacrificed nothing. You bought a wedding and expected a servant.””
“I loved you.””
“No,” I said quietly.
“You loved what you thought you could get from me.””
He moved closer.
“You have no idea what your father has done.””
“Then tell me.””
“I can't.””
“Won't.””
“Can't!””
His shout echoed through the room.
He turned away, dragging a hand through his hair.
When he faced me again, his voice had dropped.
“My father invested everything in a company that your father investigated. When the investigation began, the company collapsed. Employees lost their jobs.
Families lost their homes. My father lost everything.””
“Was the company committing fraud?””
Derek looked away.
“I was twenty-three.””
“That isn't an answer.””
“No,” he said.
“It isn't.””
For one brief moment, I saw the frightened young man beneath the expensive suit.
Then he buried it.
“My father died believing your father had destroyed him. I spent years trying to recover what was lost. Then I found you.””
“You found a way to get close to the evidence.””
He didn't deny it.
I took off my wedding ring and placed it on the desk between us.
Derek stared at it.
“What are you doing?””
“Ending this.””
“You can't end a marriage because of one bad morning.””
I almost laughed.
“One bad morning?””
“You know what I mean.””
“Yes,” I replied.
“I do.””
He looked at the ring, then at me.
“Put it back on.””
“No.””
“Chloe.””
“Get out.””
He leaned toward me.
“You think this is a game. It isn't. If you walk away, you lose everything.””
I lifted my backpack onto my shoulder.
“Then I suppose I have nothing left to lose.””
His eyes narrowed.
“What is in that bag?””
“My belongings.””
“Show me.””
“No.””
He lunged for the strap.
I twisted away, and the bag struck the edge of the desk. The hidden compartment inside my jacket shifted against my ribs.
Derek noticed.
His gaze dropped.
Then he grabbed my wrist.
“Give it to me!””
I drove my knee into his thigh.
He stumbled backward with a curse.
I seized the ring from the desk, slipped it into my pocket, and ran for the door.
He caught the handle before I could open it.
“You are not leaving this house.””
I looked at him.
Behind his shoulder, the study clock ticked toward 1:30.
Six o'clock.
Four and a half hours until Vale's deadline.
I could fight Derek in the hallway. I could scream for help and hope one of his relatives had enough courage to intervene.
Or I could make him believe I was still willing to cooperate.
I let my shoulders fall.
“All right,” I whispered.
Derek studied my face.
“You'll listen?””
“Yes.””
“You'll give me the device?””
I nodded slowly.
“And you'll sign the documents?””
“I'll think about it.””
He hesitated.
Then he stepped aside.
“Good. Go upstairs. We'll talk when you're ready to be reasonable.””
I walked past him without looking back.
At the top of the staircase, I entered the marital suite and closed the door.
The hidden passage waited behind the wardrobe.
I took out my spare phone and opened the recording.
Every word Derek had spoken in the study was there.
So was his admission that he had married me after discovering who my father was.
But as I replayed the final minute, another sound emerged beneath his voice.
A faint vibration.
My phone had picked up a message arriving on his device.
I turned up the volume.
Then I heard Derek whisper a name.
“Graham?””
He listened.
His face changed.
And he said, “No. Chloe doesn't know she's the one who has it.””
I stopped the recording.
My hands went cold.
He wasn't talking about the storage device.
He was talking about something else.
May you like
Something I had carried into the house without knowing what it was.
And suddenly, the photograph of my father became the least frightening thing in my possession.
