Chapter 6: The Name Buried in the Past
My father’s name.
That was the part I couldn’t stop hearing.
Not Noah being locked inside the Hawthorne estate.
Not the envelope.
Not even the message threatening my family.
My father.
The one person who had been gone for twelve years.
The one person Camden never liked discussing.
The one person Margaret Cross always managed to avoid whenever his name came up.
I looked at the message again.
*You should have told Evelyn the truth about her father.*
My hands felt numb.
“What does that mean?””
Camden didn’t answer.
Detective Morgan stepped closer.
“Mr. Cross?””
Still nothing.
I looked at him.
“Camden.””
His eyes stayed fixed on the phone.
For the first time since I met him, he looked completely lost.
Not calculating.
Not controlling.
Lost.
“You knew something about my father.””
It wasn’t a question.
His silence confirmed it.
The room around us disappeared.
All those years.
All those conversations.
All those moments where I asked about my father and Camden changed the subject.
I thought he was being protective.
I thought maybe he knew how painful the subject was.
I never imagined he was hiding something.
“What did you know?””
Camden swallowed.
“Evelyn…”
“No.””
My voice cracked.
“No more half-truths.””
The detective watched him carefully.
“I want an answer.””
Camden looked at the officers.
Then at the cameras outside.
Then back at me.
Even now, even after everything, part of him was still thinking about consequences.
Still thinking about reputation.
Still thinking about himself.
That hurt more than the betrayal.
“I knew your father.””
The words landed softly.
But they destroyed something inside me.
I stepped back.
“How?””
Camden rubbed his forehead.
“Your father worked with my father.””
“My father was an accountant.””
“Yes.””
I stared at him.
“He worked for Cross Holdings.””
The world went quiet.
“No.””
I shook my head.
“That’s impossible.””
“My father never mentioned your family.””
“Because he left before you knew the full story.””
I laughed once.
A broken sound.
“You’re telling me my entire life was built on something I didn’t know?””
Camden didn’t respond.
Because he knew.
That was exactly what he was telling me.
Detective Morgan interrupted.
“Mr. Cross, this conversation needs to happen after we find Noah.””
She was right.
I hated that she was right.
My son came first.
Everything else could wait.
But as we moved toward the exit, I grabbed Camden’s arm.
He looked down at my hand.
“Where is the Hawthorne estate?””
“I’ll take you.””
“No.””
His expression changed.
“Evelyn—”
“You don’t get to lead me anywhere.””
The words came out cold.
“You lost that privilege.””
For a moment, pain crossed his face.
Then he nodded.
“Fine.””
He turned away.
But before he walked outside, I saw something in his expression.
Fear.
Not because Noah was missing.
Because of what we might find when we got there.
The drive to Hawthorne estate felt endless.
Rain had started falling over the city.
The streets blurred through the window.
Detective Morgan sat in the front with two officers.
Camden and I sat in the back.
Separated by inches.
Separated by everything.
Neither of us spoke for several minutes.
Finally, I asked:
“What was my father’s name?””
Camden looked at me.
“You know his name.””
“My father’s name was Thomas Vale.””
“Yes.””
“Then why did your family know him?””
Camden stared out the window.
“Because Thomas discovered something.””
“What?””
He didn’t answer.
I felt anger rising.
“Camden.””
He closed his eyes.
“Your father discovered financial fraud inside Cross Holdings.””
I froze.
“What?””
“My father was moving money through shell companies.””
I stared at him.
“And my father found out?””
“Yes.””
“Then why didn’t he expose him?””
Camden’s jaw tightened.
“Because he tried.””
The rain hit the window harder.
“What happened?””
Camden was quiet.
Too quiet.
“My father threatened him.””
I felt sick.
“And you knew?””
“I was twenty-three.””
“That’s not an answer.””
He looked at me.
“I knew there was a conflict. I didn’t know the full details.””
“Until when?””
Silence.
Then:
“Until after your father died.””
The car suddenly felt too small.
I turned toward him.
“What?””
Camden looked away.
“Your father’s death wasn’t an accident.””
The words stole my breath.
I had spent twelve years believing my father died because of a heart condition.
That was the story everyone told me.
My mother.
The doctors.
The family friends.
Everyone.
“You’re lying.””
“I wish I was.””
My hand went to my mouth.
“No.””
Camden’s voice softened.
“Evelyn.””
“No.””
I looked at him.
“You don’t get to give me this now.””
“I know.””
“You don’t get to wait until my son is missing and suddenly become honest.””
His eyes lowered.
“I know.””
“Then why?””
He didn’t answer.
Because the truth was worse.
“You were going to tell me?””
“No.””
The honesty hurt.
I looked away.
“Of course not.””
“I thought I could protect you.””
I laughed bitterly.
“By lying?””
“Yes.””
The answer was so simple it made me angry.
“That’s what your family does, isn’t it?””
Camden looked at me.
“What?””
“You call it protection when you’re actually controlling someone.””
He didn’t argue.
When we arrived at Hawthorne estate, the first thing I noticed was that it wasn’t abandoned.
The gates were closed.
The lights were on.
Someone had been here.
Recently.
Detective Morgan stepped out first.
“Everyone stay behind us.””
I ignored her.
“I’m going in.””
“Mrs. Cross—”
“My son is inside.””
She looked at my face.
Then nodded.
Because she understood.
The front door was unlocked.
That scared me more than a locked door would have.
Someone wanted us to enter.
Inside, the house smelled like dust and old wood.
But beneath that was something else.
Fresh coffee.
A recent fire.
Someone had been living here.
“Noah?”” I called.
My voice echoed.
Nothing.
We moved deeper into the house.
The walls were covered with old photographs.
Cross family history.
Generations of wealth.
Generations of secrets.
Then I saw one photograph.
I stopped.
Camden noticed.
“What?””
I walked closer.
The picture was old.
A group of men standing outside the original Cross Holdings building.
My father was there.
Standing beside Camden’s father.
And beside them…
A younger Margaret.
My breathing changed.
“She knew him.””
Camden said nothing.
“She knew my father.””
“Yes.””
I turned toward him.
“You knew.””
“Yes.””
“And you let me spend twelve years wondering why nobody talked about him?””
His voice was quiet.
“I was trying to keep you away from this.””
“From what?””
Before he could answer, a sound came from upstairs.
A small sound.
A child.
My entire body reacted before my mind did.
“Noah?””
I ran.
Up the stairs.
“Mom!””
His voice.
My son’s voice.
I found him in a locked room at the end of the hallway.
The door was damaged from the inside.
He was sitting on the floor.
The moment he saw me, he ran forward.
I dropped to my knees and held him so tightly he complained.
“Mom, I can’t breathe.””
I laughed through tears.
“I’m sorry.””
I held his face.
“Are you hurt?””
He shook his head.
“No.””
“Who locked you in here?””
His eyes moved past me.
Toward Camden.
And his expression changed.
Fear.
Not of me.
Of him.
“Dad knows.””
Camden froze.
“What?””
Noah stepped back.
“He knows what Grandpa Thomas found.””
The room went silent.
I looked at Camden.
“What is he talking about?””
Noah reached into his jacket.
Slowly.
Carefully.
And pulled out a small envelope.
The envelope.
“I didn’t read everything,” Noah whispered.
“But I saw the name.””
My fingers trembled.
“What name?””
Noah looked at Camden.
Then at me.
“The person who caused Grandpa’s death.””
Nobody moved.
Then Noah handed me the envelope.
May you like
And written across the front, in handwriting I recognized from old birthday cards and letters I kept hidden away for years, were four words:
*For my daughter Evelyn.*
