Chapter 5: The Woman Behind The Smile
Daniel had always hated messy things.
That was what made him dangerous.
He liked everything clean.
Clean clothes.
Clean schedules.
Clean excuses.
Even his betrayals were organized.
When I first met him, I thought that was maturity.
I thought I had found a man who knew what he wanted.
Now I understood.
Daniel didn’t know what he wanted.
He knew what he wanted to take.
By morning, my father had already contacted his legal team.
Not because we wanted a fight.
Because we wanted protection.
Every document.
Every message.
Every conversation.
Everything had to be preserved.
“You can’t confront him yet,” my father warned.
I looked at him.
“Why not?””
“Because people like Daniel don’t panic when they’re exposed.””
“What do they do?””
“They destroy evidence.””
I looked at the folder.
“So we let him continue believing he won.””
My father nodded.
“That’s the advantage we have.””
The hardest part was pretending.
Pretending I didn’t know.
Pretending I still trusted him.
Pretending I was just a dying woman waiting for the end.
That afternoon, Margaret came to visit.
Alone.
She walked into my room like she owned the place.
Actually, she walked like she already owned my house.
“Emily.””
I looked up.
“Margaret.””
She sat down.
No flowers.
No sympathy.
Just business.
“I heard there were complications.””
I almost smiled.
“Concerned?””
She ignored the question.
“Daniel is under a lot of pressure.””
“Poor Daniel.””
Her eyes narrowed.
“You think this is funny?””
“No.””
I looked at her.
“I think it’s interesting.””
“What is?””
“That you’re more worried about him than me.””
Margaret crossed her legs.
“You’ve always misunderstood Daniel.””
“Have I?””
“Yes.””
She leaned closer.
“My son is a good man.””
I remembered the recording.
She won’t be alive long enough to fight.
I said nothing.
Margaret continued.
“He has spent years carrying responsibilities.””
“Responsibilities?””
“Yes.””
She glanced toward the window.
“This house. Your lifestyle. Your medical expenses.””
I stared at her.
“You think he deserves my house because he stayed married to me?””
She smiled.
“I think he deserves compensation.””
Compensation.
Like I was a business transaction.
I looked at her carefully.
“Did Daniel tell you about the medication?””
Her expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
A tiny hesitation.
A tiny crack.
“What medication?””
Too fast.
Too defensive.
I knew.
She knew.
I leaned back.
“Nothing.””
Margaret stood.
“I hope you make the right decision before it’s too late.””
I watched her leave.
The moment the door closed, my father stepped from the hallway.
“She knows.””
“Yes.””
“Are you sure?””
I nodded.
“She reacted before she thought.””
My father wrote something down.
“Margaret is involved.””
I looked at the door.
“And Jennifer?””
My father’s phone buzzed.
He checked it.
Then his expression changed.
“What?””
He handed me the phone.
A photograph.
Jennifer entering a private office.
The building address was familiar.
“Daniel’s company?””
My father shook his head.
“No.””
I looked closer.
Then I saw the sign.
A law firm.
“Why would she be there?””
My father zoomed in.
There was another person in the photo.
A man.
Older.
Carrying a briefcase.
I recognized him.
My blood froze.
“That’s impossible.””
My father looked at me.
“You know him?””
“Yes.””
“Who is he?””
I stared at the photograph.
“Daniel’s divorce attorney.””
Silence.
My father looked confused.
“Divorce attorney?””
“He told me he never hired one.””
I looked at the picture again.
Jennifer wasn’t planning a wedding.
She was planning the end of my marriage.
The question was why.
My father stood.
“We need to find out.””
That night, Daniel sent me a message.
For the first time in days, it wasn’t about paperwork.
*I’m sorry for how things happened. I never wanted to hurt you.*
I stared at the words.
A performance.
A man trying to look innocent.
I typed a reply.
*I know.*
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Finally:
*I want to make peace before it’s too late.*
I smiled.
Peace.
That was what people asked for when they were afraid of war.
I put the phone down.
Then another message arrived.
From an unknown number.
The same number as before.
*Stop trusting your father.*
I froze.
A second message followed.
*He is the reason your mother died.*
I stared at the screen.
My father.
My mother.
A secret I had never heard.
Then the phone rang.
This time, the caller wasn’t unknown.
It was my father.
I answered.
“Dad?””
His voice was different.
Serious.
“Emily, there’s something I never told you.””
My heart tightened.
“What?””
A long silence.
May you like
Then:
“Your mother’s death wasn’t an accident.””
