Chapter 6: The Secret Tasha Buried
My father read the newspaper article three times.
Then a fourth.
Like somehow the words would change.
They didn't.
The headline remained.
"Woman Investigated After Business Partner Disappearance.""
Below it was a picture.
A younger Tasha.
Standing beside my mother.
I stared at the photograph.
The woman beside my mother looked different.
Not because of her face.
Because of her smile.
It was the same smile she used on my father.
The same smile that convinced everyone she was kind.
"She knew your mother," Uncle Daniel said.
My father shook his head.
"No.""
Daniel looked at him.
"Malcolm.""
"No.""
His voice broke.
"I would have known.""
"Would you?""
That question hurt.
Because the answer was painful.
No.
He wouldn't have.
Tasha had hidden everything.
My father stood up.
"Where did you get this?""
"An old newspaper archive.""
"Why didn't anyone tell me?""
"Because the investigation ended.""
My father looked confused.
"Ended?""
Daniel nodded.
"There wasn't enough evidence.""
I looked at the photograph.
"What did she do?""
Everyone became quiet.
My father noticed.
He knelt beside me.
"Lily, go upstairs.""
I didn't move.
"Daddy.""
He sighed.
"I don't want you hearing this.""
I looked at him.
"But it happened to my mommy.""
That stopped him.
After a moment, he nodded.
"Okay.""
Daniel sat down.
"Years ago, Tasha worked with your mother.""
My father looked shocked.
"Worked with her?""
"Yes.""
"My wife never mentioned her.""
"Because they weren't friends.""
A cold feeling moved through me.
"What were they?""
Daniel looked at the photo.
"Rivals.""
My father stared.
"Over what?""
"Your mother's company.""
I had never known my mother owned a company.
To me, she was just Mommy.
The person who made pancakes.
The person who sang when she cooked.
The person who fixed my backpack.
Daniel explained.
"Your mother discovered financial problems. Money was missing.""
My father whispered:
"Tasha.""
Daniel nodded.
"She suspected Tasha.""
The room felt smaller.
My father looked at the documents.
"The trust.""
"Same pattern.""
I remembered the burned backpack.
The missing money.
The lies.
Everything connected.
That evening, my father made a decision.
"We need proof.""
He looked at Daniel.
"Not accusations.""
Daniel nodded.
"We need to know exactly what she did.""
For three days, we searched.
Not like detectives in movies.
Like people trying to rebuild a broken story.
We found old emails.
Old records.
Old photographs.
And then we found something hidden inside the wall of Tasha's office.
A small metal box.
My father opened it.
Inside was a necklace.
A silver heart pendant.
I stopped breathing.
"Daddy.""
He looked at it.
His face changed.
"No.""
He picked it up carefully.
"My God.""
I touched my chest.
"That's Mommy's.""
My father closed his eyes.
Because he knew.
There was no explanation.
No innocent reason.
Tasha had my mother's necklace.
The necklace that disappeared the night she died.
Then the box contained one more thing.
A letter.
Not from my mother.
From Tasha.
My father opened it.
His hands shook as he read.
The first line was enough.
"After tonight, everything will finally belong to me.""
My father stopped.
He didn't continue.
He couldn't.
Uncle Daniel took the letter.
He read silently.
Then his expression changed.
"What?""
My father looked at him.
Daniel looked up.
"This isn't just about money.""
"What is it?""
Daniel placed the letter down.
"She planned everything.""
I felt my father's hand reach for mine.
Because suddenly, we weren't just uncovering old secrets.
We were uncovering a crime.
That night, my father called the police.
Not because he wanted revenge.
Because he wanted answers.
An officer arrived the next morning.
He looked through everything.
The documents.
The necklace.
The letter.
Then he asked one question.
"Mr. Bennett, are you aware Tasha had another name?""
My father froze.
"What?""
The officer placed a file on the table.
A file we had never seen before.
Inside was a photograph.
Not of Tasha.
Of my mother.
And beside her was a man.
A man my father didn't recognize.
The officer pointed at the picture.
"This man contacted us yesterday.""
My father looked confused.
"Why?""
The officer's expression became serious.
"Because he claims he was there the night your wife died.""
My heart stopped.
My father grabbed the photo.
"Who is he?""
The officer looked at the file.
Then said the name.
A name that made my father drop the picture from his hand.
"His name is Ethan Cole.""
A silence filled the room.
Because my father knew that name.
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And according to him...
Ethan Cole was supposed to be dead.
