Chapter 8 - The Phone CallI called the number.

It rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then a woman answered.

"Hello?"

I could not speak.

The voice was older.

But there was something familiar about it.

"Who is this?"

I swallowed.

"My name is Clara."

Silence.

Then:

"Your father's daughter?"

"Yes."

The woman exhaled.

"Then he finally failed to keep you safe."

My hands trembled.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Evelyn."

"Evelyn what?"

She hesitated.

"That doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

"Do you have the ledger?"

"No."

"Then you are not ready."

"I need answers."

"You need proof."

"My mother was murdered."

Another silence.

"Who told you that?"

"My father."

"Then he told you too much."

I stared at Martin.

"Was my mother working with him?"

"She was working against Mercer."

"Who are you?"

"I was her secretary."

"You're alive."

"Obviously."

"Why didn't you contact me?"

"Because Mercer has been looking for me for nineteen years."

I sat down.

"What happened to my mother?"

Evelyn answered slowly.

"She discovered that the rail corridor contract had been manipulated."

"By Mercer?"

"Yes."

"Did he kill her?"

"I don't know."

I froze.

"But you just said..."

"I said she was murdered."

"Who did it?"

"I never saw the killer."

"Then what do you know?"

"I know she was poisoned first."

My throat tightened.

"The same thing that happened to my father?"

"Possibly."

"Where is the ledger?"

Evelyn said nothing.

"Evelyn."

"Your mother hid it."

"Where?"

"Inside something nobody would suspect."

"What?"

"The building she trusted most."

I knew.

"Building Four."

"Yes."

The call ended.

I looked at Martin.

"We go now."

He didn't argue.

Inside Building Four, we searched every room.

Walls.

Floors.

Ceilings.

Electrical panels.

Nothing.

Then I noticed a framed photograph in the lobby.

It showed the building when it first opened.

My mother stood beside my father.

I moved the frame.

Behind it was a small metal compartment.

Inside was a key.

Not a normal key.

A safe-deposit key.

Martin stared at it.

"Your mother."

"She planned everything."

We went to the bank.

The vault required two forms of identity and a court authorization because the account had been dormant for nineteen years.

Martin handled it.

Hours later, the box was opened.

Inside was a cassette.

A photograph.

And an envelope.

The envelope had my name on it.

My hands shook as I opened it.

Clara,

If you're reading this, it means the people I feared finally came for you.

I am sorry.

There were ten pages.

The first described Mercer's scheme.

The second named the inspectors he bribed.

The third listed shell companies.

The fourth contained bank account numbers.

The fifth contained dates.

The sixth contained a list of people who had helped him.

The seventh stopped me cold.

One name appeared.

Eleanor Whitmore.

I looked at Martin.

"She was involved."

"Apparently."

I read further.

Eleanor had been paid to influence Julian.

To make him marry me.

I couldn't breathe.

"She arranged our marriage?"

Martin didn't answer.

The next page explained why.

She wanted access to my trust.

The page after that revealed something worse.

Julian had not met me by accident.

He had been instructed to pursue me.

I dropped the letter.

Five years of marriage.

Every dinner.

Every kiss.

Every argument.

Every time Julian said he loved me.

All manufactured.

I felt sick.

"He never loved me."

Martin said quietly:

"I don't know."

I looked at the final page.

There was one sentence.

But beneath it was another document.

A birth certificate.

Julian Whitmore.

Father: Unknown.

Mother: Eleanor Whitmore.

The father's name had been legally sealed.

I looked at Martin.

"Why would my mother include this?"

He turned the paper over.

Written on the back:

Julian is not Edmund's son.

I stared.

"What?"

Martin read it.

"Then who is his father?"

The cassette beside the envelope had a label.

Listen before you trust anyone.

I inserted it into the recorder.

Static.

Then my mother's voice.

"Clara."

I closed my eyes.

"If you're hearing this, I couldn't tell you myself."

She began to cry.

Very quietly.

"I need you to understand something."

A pause.

"Your husband is not part of Mercer's family."

I opened my eyes.

"He's part of mine."

The tape clicked.

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Then one final sentence.

"Julian is your half-brother."