CHAPTER 3: THE DATE ON THE PAPER
“They're finishing it tomorrow.”
Marcus's words seemed to suck the air out of the room.
Nobody spoke.
Even the police officers looked at one another.
I stared at the date written beneath the strange black symbol.
AUGUST 11.
Tomorrow.
My son pressed himself against my side.
“Mom…”
I wrapped an arm around him.
“I'm here.”
But my eyes remained on Daniel.
He was staring at the paper as if he had just seen a ghost.
“Daniel.”
He didn't answer.
“What's happening tomorrow?”
His face had lost all color.
“I don't know.”
Marcus stepped closer.
“You do.”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
“You recognized the symbol.”
“I said I don't know!”
His voice echoed through the room.
My son flinched.
Daniel immediately lowered his voice.
“I'm sorry.”
But the damage was done.
My son moved behind me.
I looked at Daniel.
“You're scaring him again.”
He closed his eyes.
Then whispered:
“I never wanted any of this.”
I felt my anger return.
“Then tell me what this is.”
He looked at me.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Finally, he sat down.
“Two years ago, someone came to me.”
“Who?”
“I don't know his real name.”
Marcus folded his arms.
“What did he want?”
Daniel swallowed.
“He wanted access to the family trust.”
My heart tightened.
“How much?”
“Everything.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“He said the trust contained something worth more than money.”
Marcus's expression changed.
“What?”
Daniel shook his head.
“I never knew.”
“You're lying,” Marcus said.
Daniel looked at him.
“I swear.”
Marcus walked to the table.
He picked up the photograph of the black-coated man.
“This man?”
Daniel nodded.
“He called himself Victor.”
My skin prickled.
“Victor what?”
“I don't know.”
Marcus turned toward the officers.
“Run the name.”
One officer immediately stepped aside and made a call.
I looked at Daniel.
“And Victoria?”
His eyes dropped.
“She was already involved.”
Victoria suddenly shouted.
“Don't you dare.”
Daniel looked at her.
“You were there.”
“I was trying to help.”
“You helped them.”
Victoria's expression hardened.
“You were the one who signed the papers.”
My head snapped toward Daniel.
“What papers?”
Daniel didn't answer.
I walked closer.
“What papers?”
Victoria's eyes flickered.
Marcus immediately noticed.
“Claire, don't.”
But I needed to know.
“What did my husband sign?”
Victoria laughed bitterly.
“The same thing you were going to sign.”
“What?”
“The transfer agreement.”
My heart pounded.
“What transfer?”
Daniel whispered:
“Your son's guardianship.”
The room went silent.
I felt as though someone had punched me.
“What did you say?”
Daniel looked at me.
“They wanted custody of him.”
My mouth went dry.
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I didn't understand.”
“Then why did you sign?”
His eyes filled with tears.
“Because they threatened you.”
I froze.
“What did they threaten?”
Daniel stared at the floor.
“They showed me photographs.”
My stomach twisted.
“Photographs of what?”
He didn't answer.
Marcus stepped forward.
“Daniel.”
Daniel looked up.
“They had photographs of Claire leaving the house.”
My blood ran cold.
“Stalking photographs?”
He nodded.
“Everywhere. The grocery store. Your office. The hospital. Even when you took our son to therapy.”
I looked toward my son.
He was watching me.
I forced myself to smile.
“It's okay.”
But it wasn't.
Not even close.
Marcus's phone rang.
He answered.
“Marcus Hale.”
His expression changed.
“Are you sure?”
A pause.
“Send it to me now.”
He hung up.
“What happened?” I asked.
He looked at Daniel.
“The man named Victor isn't Victor.”
Daniel's eyes widened.
“Who is he?”
Marcus took out his phone.
A photograph appeared on the screen.
A man in his fifties.
Gray hair.
Expensive suit.
Cold eyes.
I stared at the picture.
I had seen him before.
I just couldn't remember where.
Then it hit me.
“That's…”
My voice disappeared.
Marcus nodded.
“You know him.”
I stared at the photograph.
“He was at our wedding.”
Daniel looked up.
“No.”
I nodded slowly.
“He stood beside your father.”
Daniel's face went white.
“My father died six years ago.”
“Exactly.”
Marcus zoomed in on the photograph.
“The man beside him wasn't your father's friend.”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
Marcus looked at him.
“He was your father's attorney.”
Daniel stopped breathing.
My husband's father had built the Bennett fortune.
He had also died under suspicious circumstances.
At the time, everyone called it a heart attack.
But Daniel had always refused to discuss it.
Now I understood why.
“What was his name?” I asked.
Daniel whispered:
“Richard Cross.”
Marcus stared at the screen.
“Richard Cross died three years ago.”
I looked at him.
“Then how is he alive?”
Marcus didn't answer.
Because someone else did.
The police officer returned from his phone call.
“We found him.”
Marcus turned.
“Where?”
The officer looked at us.
“Richard Cross is registered under a different identity.”
“Where?”
The officer hesitated.
“Here.”
He pointed toward the estate.
My entire body went cold.
“What?”
“He has been living on this property.”
I looked around the room.
At the paintings.
The marble.
The staircase.
The closed doors.
The hidden rooms.
Someone had been living inside our home.
Someone we had never seen.
Or perhaps someone we had seen too many times.
Marcus immediately ordered the security team to search the property.
The officers spread out.
Daniel stood.
“I know where.”
Everyone turned.
“Where?”
He pointed toward the hallway.
“The old wine cellar.”
My heart sank.
“That's been locked for years.”
Daniel nodded.
“Exactly.”
We followed him.
The cellar door was behind a large painting.
Daniel removed the painting from the wall.
There was a keypad.
He entered a code.
The lock clicked.
The door opened.
A cold draft hit my face.
My son grabbed my hand.
We stepped inside.
The room smelled like dust and old paper.
A narrow staircase led downward.
Marcus turned on his flashlight.
We descended.
At the bottom was a steel door.
Daniel entered another code.
The door opened.
I stopped.
The walls were covered with photographs.
Hundreds of them.
Photographs of me.
Photographs of Daniel.
Photographs of my son.
Our house.
Our cars.
Our daily routines.
My son's school.
His therapist.
Even his bedroom window.
I felt sick.
Marcus walked toward a desk.
There were folders stacked neatly across it.
He opened one.
Then another.
Then another.
Suddenly, he stopped.
“Claire.”
I walked over.
He showed me the first page.
It contained my full name.
My date of birth.
My bank information.
My assets.
My business holdings.
Then came the final line.
SUBJECT WILL BE REMOVED AFTER TRANSFER.
I stared at it.
“Removed?”
Marcus's jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
I picked up another folder.
This one had Daniel's name.
Then Victoria's.
Then Brooke's.
And finally...
My son's.
His file was thicker than all the others.
I opened it.
The first page was a photograph of him sleeping.
The second contained medical information.
The third contained school records.
The fourth contained a handwritten note.
I read it.
Then my hands began shaking.
CHILD IS NOT THE TARGET.
I looked at Marcus.
“What does that mean?”
He took the page.
His eyes moved across the words.
Then he flipped it over.
There was another sentence.
THE CHILD IS THE KEY.
My son suddenly screamed from the doorway.
“Mom!”
I spun around.
He was pointing behind me.
At the far end of the room stood a man.
Gray hair.
Expensive suit.
Cold eyes.
Richard Cross.
Alive.
He smiled.
“Claire.”
My son screamed again.
And Richard said something that made every hair on my arms rise.
“You finally found the room where your husband buried the truth.”
Daniel stepped in front of me.
“Stay away from her.”
Richard smiled wider.
“Still pretending you're the hero, Daniel?”
Then he looked at my son.
“You should ask your mother why she never told you who your real father is.”
The room went silent.
I looked at Daniel.
Daniel looked at me.
My son whispered:
“Mom?”
And I realized the biggest secret in this house had nothing to do with money.
May you like
It was about my son.
And apparently, I wasn't the only one who knew the truth.
