Chapter 4 - THE SECRET IN CLAIRE'S KITCHEN
I didn't sleep that night.
At 3:12 a.m., I sat in my study staring at Daniel's note.
Don't trust Dad.
My father had been dead for eleven years.
Whatever Daniel had feared died with him.
Or so I thought.
At 7:00 a.m., Claire called.
Her voice was shaking.
“Vincent.”
“What happened?”
“Someone broke into my apartment.”
I was already standing.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Emma?”
“She’s with my neighbor.”
“Stay there.”
“Vincent—”
“I'll be there in ten minutes.”
When I arrived, the police were already inside.
Nothing had been stolen.
That was the worst part.
Someone had searched the apartment.
Drawers were open.
Papers scattered.
A kitchen cabinet had been emptied onto the floor.
Claire stood beside the counter.
She looked devastated.
“They didn't take anything.”
I crouched near the mess.
“What were they looking for?”
“I don't know.”
Then I noticed something.
A loose floorboard beneath the kitchen table.
I lifted it.
Inside was a small metal box.
Claire stared.
“I've never seen that.”
Neither had I.
The police opened it.
Inside were documents.
Bank records.
Photographs.
And a flash drive.
One photograph stopped me cold.
My father.
Daniel.
And a man I recognized.
Franklin Ward.
My father's former business partner.
Franklin had disappeared after my father's death.
The police had never found him.
Claire looked at me.
“Who is that?”
“Someone who may know what happened to Daniel.”
The flash drive contained financial records.
Millions of dollars moved through shell companies.
Payments made before Daniel died.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Marcus Hale.
Claire went completely still.
“My ex-husband?”
I nodded.
“Why would Marcus be connected to your family?”
“I don't know.”
Then we found the second folder.
It contained photographs of Claire and Emma.
Taken years before I met them.
Claire covered her mouth.
“Why would anyone be watching us?”
I looked at the dates.
The oldest photograph had been taken six years earlier.
Before Emma was born.
Before Marcus left.
That changed everything.
Marcus hadn't appeared recently.
Someone had been watching Claire for years.
We found him that afternoon.
Marcus agreed to meet us.
He looked tired.
Not angry.
Terrified.
“You need to listen,” he said.
Claire crossed her arms.
“You've been following me.”
“I've been trying to protect you.”
She laughed bitterly.
“That's what you call it?”
“I made mistakes.”
“You abandoned your daughter.”
“I know.”
“Then explain.”
Marcus looked at me.
“Your father knew about the money.”
“What money?”
“The money that disappeared after Daniel died.”
I stepped forward.
“What did my father do?”
Marcus swallowed.
“He wasn't the man you thought he was.”
I felt something inside me crack.
“My father built everything I have.”
“He also destroyed people.”
Marcus handed me a photograph.
It showed my father arguing with Franklin Ward.
Behind them stood Daniel.
Young.
Frightened.
Listening.
“Daniel found out about the accounts,” Marcus said.
“What accounts?”
“Your father's private accounts.”
I stared at him.
“Daniel was going to expose him.”
“That's why he died?”
Marcus shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“Then who does?”
He looked at Claire.
“Her father.”
Claire froze.
“My father?”
Marcus nodded.
“Thomas Bennett worked for your father years ago.”
Claire took a step backward.
“My father never mentioned him.”
“He was paid to disappear.”
I looked at Claire.
She looked as confused as I felt.
Then Marcus said the sentence that changed everything.
“Daniel didn't die because of you, Vincent.”
I couldn't breathe.
“He died because he was trying to protect someone.”
“Who?”
Marcus looked directly at Claire.
“Her.”
Silence.
Claire shook her head.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It will.”
Marcus reached into his coat.
He pulled out a letter.
“Your father wrote this.”
He handed it to Claire.
Her hands trembled as she opened it.
The first line read:
Claire, if you're reading this, I'm sorry I failed you.
She looked at me.
Neither of us understood.
Then her eyes moved across the page.
Her face drained of color.
“What does it say?”
She whispered,
“My father knew Daniel.”
I stepped closer.
“What else?”
She looked up.
“He says Daniel died because he found out that someone in your family had stolen money from my father's company.”
I frowned.
“My family?”
Claire nodded.
“And he says your father blamed Daniel.”
The room went silent.
Then Claire whispered,
“There is one more thing.”
“What?”
She looked at the final paragraph.
“He says Daniel was not alone the night he died.”
My heart stopped.
“Who was with him?”
Claire looked at me.
“Your mother.”
May you like
My mother had told us she was in Paris that night.
She had lied.
