Chapter 4 - The Secret Behind My Father's Last Letter
The lights came back on.
But Marcus was no longer holding the envelope.
He was holding a photograph.
And the woman in that photograph was my mother.
I stared at the image in his hand.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Not me.
Not Marcus.
Not even the rain outside seemed to make a sound.
Because there were some moments when the world became quiet on its own.
Moments when your mind needed silence just to understand what your eyes were seeing.
My mother.
Elena Hale.
A woman I remembered only through fragments.
A soft voice.
A warm hand.
A perfume I could never identify but somehow still recognized.
She had died when I was eight years old.
That was the story I had been told my entire life.
A sudden illness.
A tragic loss.
A closed chapter.
My father never spoke about it.
Nobody did.
And I learned quickly that in the Hale family, some questions were more dangerous than answers.
Marcus placed the photograph on the table.
My hands moved toward it.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like touching it too quickly might make it disappear.
It showed my mother standing beside a man.
Not my father.
Adrian Vale.
They were younger.
Much younger.
The photograph looked old.
The edges were damaged.
But the image was clear.
My mother was smiling.
A real smile.
One I had never seen in any photograph my father kept.
My eyes moved to Adrian.
The man everyone said betrayed my father.
The man everyone said vanished.
The man standing downstairs tonight.
"How long have you known?"
My voice was quiet.
Marcus looked at me.
"About the photograph?"
"No."
I lifted my eyes.
"About her."
He understood.
My mother.
Marcus looked away.
"Six months."
A cold feeling moved through me.
Six months.
He had known something about my mother for six months.
And he said nothing.
"You kept this from me."
"I was trying to protect you."
I almost laughed.
Everyone always said that.
Protect you.
Save you.
Keep you safe.
Those words were often used by people who were actually protecting themselves.
"You don't get to decide what I can handle."
"I know."
"Do you?"
Marcus stayed silent.
I looked back at the photograph.
My mother.
Adrian.
A secret hidden for sixteen years.
The same night my father died.
The same night Adrian disappeared.
The same night my entire life changed.
"What happened that night?"
Marcus took a breath.
"I don't know everything."
"Then tell me what you know."
He looked at the envelope.
"Your father found out about Elena."
My fingers tightened around the photograph.
"About what?"
Marcus hesitated.
Then said:
"That she was hiding something from him."
I stared at him.
My father had been many things.
Powerful.
Cruel.
Controlling.
But he was never a man who accepted secrets.
Especially from his own family.
"What was she hiding?"
Marcus shook his head.
"Your father never wrote that part."
"Then why leave the letter?"
"Because he knew someone would come looking."
I looked at the envelope.
"Someone like Adrian."
Marcus nodded.
"Someone like Adrian."
The name stayed in the air.
I turned my wheelchair toward the window.
Below, the hotel entrance was still visible.
The man was gone.
But I knew he had been there.
I knew he wanted me to see him.
To know he was alive.
To know he had something I didn't.
Information.
And information was more valuable than money in my world.
"Where is Adrian now?"
Marcus looked toward the door.
"Rowan..."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
Another lie.
I turned back.
"You know more than you are telling me."
His expression changed.
Not anger.
Pain.
That bothered me more.
Marcus had been beside me through everything.
Through the first years after my father's death.
Through the expansion of my business.
Through enemies who tried to destroy me.
Through the accident.
He was the one person I believed had never betrayed me.
Now I wasn't sure.
"I followed him here tonight."
The confession finally came.
My eyes narrowed.
"You followed him?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I needed to know if he was alone."
"And?"
Marcus looked at the photograph.
"He wasn't."
The room became cold again.
"Who was with him?"
Marcus didn't answer immediately.
That meant the answer mattered.
"Marcus."
He looked at me.
"There was another person."
"Who?"
His voice dropped.
"Someone from your father's old circle."
I waited.
"Who?"
Marcus looked toward the dark hallway.
Then whispered:
"Victor Cross."
I froze.
Victor Cross.
Another name from the past.
A name connected to my father's empire.
A man who disappeared after my father's death.
A man everyone believed had fled the country.
Two dead men.
Two impossible returns.
And both connected to my family.
I looked at the photograph again.
"What is happening?"
Marcus didn't answer.
Instead, he picked up the envelope.
"The letter."
I looked at him.
"You haven't opened it?"
"I couldn't."
"Why?"
His eyes met mine.
"Because your father wrote something on the outside."
He turned the envelope around.
For the first time, I noticed the writing.
Small.
Faded.
Almost invisible.
My father's handwriting.
Three words.
Only three.
I leaned closer.
My heart slowed.
Because I recognized the sentence.
It was something my father used to say whenever he discovered betrayal.
"Trust no one."
I stared at the words.
Then I looked at Marcus.
For the first time in years, I wondered if my closest ally was also someone I should fear.
The envelope sat between us.
A piece of the past.
A message from a dead man.
A truth my father had hidden until after his death.
I reached for it.
Marcus stopped me.
"Wait."
My eyes lifted.
"Why?"
His face had changed.
Fear.
Real fear.
"What?"
He looked at the photograph.
Then at the flower beside my cake.
Then toward the door.
"Because if Adrian sent that message..."
He stopped.
"Finish the sentence."
Marcus swallowed.
"He didn't send it because he wanted you to know the truth."
The room became silent.
"He sent it because he knows you already found it."
I looked at him.
"What does that mean?"
Marcus stepped closer.
"Rowan..."
The phone on the table vibrated.
Both of us looked down.
A new message.
Unknown number.
I picked it up.
One photo appeared.
My stomach tightened.
It was Lily.
Standing in the hotel lobby.
But she was not with her mother.
She was standing beside someone else.
A man.
A man whose face was hidden.
Then another message appeared.
Three words.
"She knows everything."
I looked at Marcus.
He was already pale.
Because he recognized the man beside Lily.
I turned the phone toward him.
"Who is that?"
Marcus didn't answer.
He couldn't.
May you like
Because the person standing next to the little girl was someone we both thought had died sixteen years ago.
And then the elevator at the end of the hallway opened.
