Chapter 4 - The Secret Buried Beneath the Howerin Name
The note was only five words.
But those five words carried the weight of twenty years of lies.
Your father knew too much.
I stared at the paper in Emmett’s hand.
The handwriting was rushed.
Almost careless.
Whoever left it there wanted to be found.
They wanted Emmett to see it.
They wanted him to start asking questions.
And that meant one terrifying thing.
They were no longer hiding.
They were challenging him.
Emmett stood in the middle of the hallway, looking at the photograph on the floor.
It was an old picture.
A younger version of his father stood in front of the Howerin estate.
Beside him was a group of businessmen.
I recognized one face immediately.
Warren Pike.
But he looked different.
Younger.
Less polished.
Less powerful.
Almost like someone who was still trying to become important.
Emmett noticed my expression.
“You know him?”
I shook my head.
“Not personally.”
“But?”
I pointed at the picture.
“He looks familiar.”
Emmett picked it up.
His fingers tightened around the frame.
“My father kept almost nothing from his past.”
“Almost?”
He looked at me.
“There were always things he refused to discuss.”
“What kind of things?”
His eyes moved toward the portrait hanging above the staircase.
A painting of his father.
A respected businessman.
A philanthropist.
A man the city considered a hero.
“My father built this company from nothing.”
He paused.
“Everyone knows that story.”
“But you don’t believe it.”
Emmett was silent.
That was my answer.
He walked toward the library.
I followed.
The library was unlike any room I had ever entered.
Thousands of books lined the walls.
Dark wooden shelves.
A fireplace.
Old family photographs.
It felt less like a room and more like a museum.
A museum dedicated to the Howerin family.
Emmett opened a locked cabinet behind a row of books.
Inside were old documents.
Letters.
Records.
Photographs.
“You keep secrets too,” I said.
He looked back.
“Everyone in my family does.”
That sentence surprised me.
Because it sounded less like pride.
More like exhaustion.
He pulled out an old leather folder.
“This belonged to my father.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You never opened it?”
“No.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
His answer was quiet.
“Because my father told me never to.”
I frowned.
“Never?”
“He said if I ever found this folder, it meant someone had already failed to protect me.”
A cold feeling moved through me.
“And now?”
Emmett looked at the folder.
“Now I think he knew this day would come.”
He opened it.
Inside were financial records.
Old newspaper clippings.
And a handwritten letter.
The letter was dated fifteen years earlier.
The year before Emmett’s father died.
Emmett unfolded it.
His eyes moved across the page.
I watched his face change.
“What does it say?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer.
Then he handed it to me.
The handwriting was elegant.
Careful.
A father writing to his son.
Emmett,
If you are reading this, something has gone wrong.
My breathing slowed.
I spent my life believing money could protect people. I was wrong.
Money attracts people who want what you have.
Power attracts people who want what you know.
And secrets attract people who will destroy anyone standing between them and the truth.
I looked at Emmett.
He continued reading silently.
Then he whispered:
“He knew.”
“What?”
“My father knew someone was after him.”
The room felt colder.
“What else?”
He turned the page.
The second half of the letter was missing.
Only torn paper remained.
Someone had removed the most important part.
The part containing the answer.
Emmett looked furious for the first time.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just controlled anger.
“Someone took the rest.”
I looked around the library.
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who has access here?”
He laughed quietly.
A bitter sound.
“Everyone.”
The answer was worse than if he had said one person.
Everyone.
The staff.
The executives.
The family.
The people who smiled at him every day.
The people who poured his coffee.
The people who called him brother.
Anyone.
A sound came from the hallway.
Footsteps.
We both froze.
Emmett closed the folder.
I moved toward the door.
A shadow passed underneath.
Someone was standing outside.
Emmett reached for the handle.
Then stopped.
He looked at me.
“Stay behind me.”
This time, I didn’t argue.
He opened the door.
Nobody was there.
Only an envelope lying on the floor.
My heart sank.
Because we both knew.
Someone had been close enough to leave it there.
Emmett picked it up.
No name.
No address.
Just one word.
READ.
Inside was a single photograph.
My blood turned cold.
It was a picture of me.
Not from today.
From years ago.
I was standing outside a hospital.
Holding Lucas’s hand.
Emmett noticed.
“You know this place?”
I nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“My old neighborhood.”
He looked at the picture again.
“Why would someone have this?”
I didn’t know.
Then I saw something written on the back.
Three words.
Ask her about Lucas.
I froze.
Because Lucas wasn’t part of this.
My brother had nothing to do with the Howerin family.
Nothing.
I looked at Emmett.
“How do they know about him?”
He didn’t answer.
Because he was asking himself the same question.
Then my phone rang.
A number I didn’t recognize.
I stared at the screen.
Emmett nodded.
“Answer it.”
I hesitated.
“What if—”
“Answer.”
I pressed the button.
At first, there was silence.
Then a voice.
A woman’s voice.
A voice I knew.
My knees almost gave out.
“Emily…”
I stopped breathing.
Nobody called me that anymore.
Not since I changed my life.
Not since I left my old home.
Not since the night everything fell apart.
“Who is this?”
A shaky breath came through the phone.
“It’s me.”
My eyes widened.
Because I knew that voice.
I knew it better than anyone.
“Mom?”
Emmett looked at me.
Confused.
Because he didn’t know.
Nobody knew.
My mother had been gone for eleven years.
Everyone believed she was dead.
Including me.
The voice on the phone whispered:
“I’m sorry I disappeared.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“Where are you?”
A pause.
Then:
“I was hiding from the same people who are trying to kill Emmett Howerin.”
The room went completely silent.
Emmett stepped closer.
I put the phone on speaker.
My mother continued.
“Emily, listen carefully.”
Her voice trembled.
“The Howerin family secret didn’t begin with Emmett.”
A pause.
“It began with his father.”
Emmett’s face changed.
My mother continued.
“And if you want to know why they are trying to erase everyone connected to the truth…”
Static filled the line.
Then her final words came through.
“Find the woman who raised you.”
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Confused.
Terrified.
Because there was one problem.
My mother was dead.
At least…
That was what everyone had told me.
Emmett looked at me.
“Who raised you?”
I couldn’t answer.
Because suddenly, the entire life I remembered felt like a lie.
May you like
And somewhere in that lie…
Was the reason people were willing to kill.
