Chapter 8: The Secret Richard Left Behind
The next morning, I went straight to Marcus’s office.
I didn’t call first.
I didn’t make an appointment.
I walked in carrying Richard’s letter and the fear I couldn’t shake.
Marcus looked up immediately.
“What happened?””
I placed my phone on his desk.
“He called me.””
Marcus’s expression changed.
“Who?””
“Evan Cross.””
He stood.
“Are you okay?””
“I’m fine.””
But I wasn’t.
Not really.
I told him everything.
The warning.
The mention of Richard.
The words that had stayed in my mind all night.
He knew.
Marcus listened carefully.
Then he said something unexpected.
“I believe him.””
I stared.
“What?””
“Not that he’s right. Not that he’s innocent.””
He paused.
“But I believe Richard knew something.””
The room became quiet.
“You knew?””
Marcus looked away.
That hurt more than anything.
“You knew?””
“Eleanor—”
“No.””
My voice shook.
“My husband had secrets and you knew?””
Marcus sighed.
“Richard asked me to prepare documents before he died.””
“What documents?””
“I don’t know exactly.””
“You don’t know?””
“He asked me to keep them sealed.””
I felt betrayed.
Not by Marcus.
Not completely.
By the universe.
By the idea that after forty years of marriage, there were still parts of Richard’s life I didn’t know.
“When?””
“Two months before he passed.””
I sat down slowly.
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
“Because he specifically told me not to unless you were in danger.””
I looked at him.
“Am I in danger?””
Marcus didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
That afternoon, Marcus brought me to a storage facility downtown.
I had been there before.
Years ago.
Richard kept important documents there.
But I thought everything had been moved after his death.
Apparently, I was wrong.
The manager unlocked a small room.
Inside was a single box.
My name was written on it.
Not Richard’s.
Mine.
I stared.
“He prepared this for me?””
Marcus nodded.
I opened the box.
Inside were photographs.
Bank statements.
Copies of emails.
And a handwritten journal.
Richard’s handwriting.
My hands shook as I opened it.
My beloved Eleanor,
If you are reading this, then something has happened that I hoped would never happen.
I stopped.
The words blurred.
I wiped my eyes.
Then continued.
I began noticing changes around us. People asking questions they should not ask. People showing interest in things that did not belong to them.
I thought of Harper.
My breathing slowed.
Richard continued.
I did not want to frighten you. You had already lost so much. I wanted to protect your peace.
A tear slipped down my cheek.
That was Richard.
Even when he was afraid, he was protecting me.
But then I reached the next paragraph.
The person I am most concerned about is not Harper.
My heart stopped.
Not Harper?
I kept reading.
It is someone she knows.
Someone with experience manipulating property transfers.
Someone who has done this before.
Evan Cross.
I closed my eyes.
Richard knew.
But how?
The journal continued.
I discovered that Evan approached Caleb regarding financial opportunities. I do not believe Caleb understood the full extent of what was happening.
My eyes moved to the next sentence.
But he is vulnerable.
That sentence hurt.
Because it was true.
Caleb wasn’t cruel.
He was weak.
And sometimes weakness could hurt people just as badly.
The final page was shorter.
Eleanor,
If you ever need this information, trust Marcus.
Do not trust anyone who tells you they are protecting you while asking you to surrender control.
Your home is not valuable because of the ocean view.
It is valuable because it is yours.
I held the page against my chest.
For a moment, I was back in our kitchen.
Richard making pancakes.
Richard pretending not to burn them.
Richard laughing when I teased him.
I missed him so much it felt physical.
Then Marcus noticed something.
“Eleanor.””
I looked up.
He was holding a photograph.
A photograph I had never seen.
It showed Richard.
Standing beside Evan Cross.
And another person.
I took it.
My heart dropped.
Because I knew the third person.
I knew him better than anyone.
“Caleb?””
Marcus nodded.
The photograph was dated six years earlier.
Before Harper.
Before the wedding.
Before everything.
“What was my son doing with them?””
Neither of us had an answer.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message.
From Caleb.
Mom, I need to tell you something about Harper.
I looked at the photograph.
Then at Marcus.
Because suddenly, I wasn’t sure which truth would hurt more.
May you like
The truth about my daughter-in-law…
Or the truth about my son.
