Chapter 9 - I refused to believe a court could hand control of my child to the woman whose son tried to kill me.Detective Harris corrected me.
“They didn't give her permanent guardianship.”
“Then what?”
“Temporary emergency authority.”
“Why?”
“Because someone filed evidence that you are mentally unstable.”
I laughed.
“Mentally unstable?”
“They claim trauma has impaired your judgment.”
“Who filed it?”
She hesitated.
“Your husband.”
I felt something inside me break.
Diego.
Even after everything.
Even after nearly killing me.
He was still trying to take my daughter.
My father's attorney entered.
“There is another development.”
I looked at him.
“Please don't tell me it gets worse.”
“It does.”
He placed a document before me.
Diego had requested control of my shares during the guardianship proceedings.
Because if I were deemed incapable of managing my estate, the court could appoint a trustee.
And Diego had nominated a trustee.
Holloway.
I stared at the page.
“This was the plan.”
“Yes.”
My father had warned me.
The baby wasn't just the target.
I was the gateway.
If they declared me mentally incompetent, they could seize my shares.
If they gained guardianship, they could control my daughter's inheritance.
If they controlled the trust, they could attack Sterling from inside.
Everything connected.
Then the doors opened.
Diego walked in.
No lawyers.
No security.
Just him.
I stared.
“What do you want?”
He looked tired.
“I want to tell you the truth.”
“I've heard enough lies.”
“I helped them.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“I know.”
“I didn't know about the attack.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because you're still here.”
He looked down.
Then said,
“Brenna lied to me.”
“About what?”
“She told me the attack was supposed to scare you.”
“She wanted you to believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she knew I'd do something reckless if I believed you were leaving me.”
I stared.
“You attacked me because you were afraid I'd leave?”
His eyes filled with shame.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I attacked you because I was afraid of losing everything.”
That was the most honest thing he'd ever said.
I asked,
“Who is your father?”
His face went pale.
“What?”
“Diego Calder.”
He swallowed.
“You never talk about him.”
“He died.”
“When?”
“Before I met you.”
“Where?”
“Prison.”
I stared.
“Why?”
He looked at the floor.
“Fraud.”
My stomach tightened.
“Against whom?”
He didn't answer.
Then my father's lawyer entered.
He placed an old newspaper on the desk.
The headline read:
CALDER FINANCIAL DIRECTOR CONVICTED IN STERLING FRAUD CASE.
I looked at Diego.
“You're the son of the man who tried to steal Sterling.”
“Yes.”
“Your marriage to me…”
“Started as revenge.”
I went completely still.
Then he said:
“But it became real.”
I looked away.
“You loved me?”
“Yes.”
“And still tried to take my shares.”
“Yes.”
His honesty somehow made it worse.
“Why continue?”
“Because once I realized what Holloway was doing, it was too late.”
“What did he have on you?”
Diego's voice dropped.
“Evidence.”
“Of what?”
“My father's crimes.”
I frowned.
“He threatened to expose my family.”
“He was blackmailing you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why not tell me?”
“I was ashamed.”
I stared at him.
Then something clicked.
“You knew Holloway's father.”
“Everyone in my family did.”
“Did your father know my mother?”
Diego looked up.
Silence.
“Answer me.”
He whispered,
“Yes.”
“How?”
“They worked together.”
My heart stopped.
“On what?”
“Black Vault.”
I stared at him.
“My father was part of the original conspiracy.”
“So was mine.”
Diego nodded.
“And your mother.”
The world seemed to tilt.
Everyone I trusted had been connected.
My father.
My mother.
Diego's father.
Holloway's father.
Brenna.
Vanessa.
All of them.
Then Diego said,
“There is one thing nobody knows.”
“What?”
“The reason your mother disappeared.”
I waited.
“She didn't run.”
“What happened?”
“She was betrayed.”
“By whom?”
He looked directly at me.
“Your father.”
The room went silent.
Before I could respond, Detective Harris rushed in.
“We found Alvin.”
My heart leapt.
“Where?”
“Sterling Shipyard Twelve.”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
I exhaled.
Then she added:
“But we didn't find the people holding him.”
“What do you mean?”
“The building was empty.”
“Then how…”
She handed me a photograph.
My father was standing alone.
No ropes.
No injuries.
Nothing.
Except one thing.
He was holding a piece of paper.
On it were three words.
SHE KNOWS EVERYTHING.
My father hadn't been kidnapped.
He had gone there willingly.
May you like
And whoever he met had given him a warning.
About me.
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