Chapter 4 - The Message From The Dead
The notification appeared on Emma’s old phone.
One new message.
My fingers tightened around the device.
For four years, I had searched for answers about my wife’s death.
I questioned investigators.
I questioned witnesses.
I questioned every person who stood beside me at her funeral.
But I never questioned a phone I thought was destroyed.
Because I believed there was nothing left to find.
I was wrong.
The screen remained lit in my hand.
A message.
Not from four years ago.
Not from the day Emma died.
A new message.
Received seconds ago.
My breathing slowed.
Every instinct I had developed from years of living in my world screamed the same thing.
Someone was watching.
Someone knew I had found this phone.
“Andrew.”
Elizabeth’s voice was quiet.
I looked at her.
She was staring at the device.
“You need to read it.”
I looked back at the screen.
The message was short.
Three words.
Stop digging, Andrew.
The room became colder.
Not because of fear.
Because of recognition.
Someone knew exactly what I was doing.
Someone knew exactly where I was.
I turned toward the bedroom door.
Alex was sitting on the bed, watching me.
His expression had changed.
The happiness from earlier was gone.
The little boy who had laughed in flour was gone.
In his place was the child I had seen every day since Emma died.
Silent.
Guarded.
Afraid.
I walked toward him slowly.
“Alex.”
His eyes moved to mine.
I held up the phone.
“Did you know about this?”
He didn't answer.
But his eyes moved toward the wooden box.
That was enough.
I looked at Elizabeth.
“Take Alex downstairs.”
She immediately understood.
“No.”
I stopped.
“No?”
She stepped closer.
“Whoever sent that message wants you angry.”
I stared at her.
“They threatened my son.”
“Yes.”
Her voice remained calm.
“And if you react like Andrew James, they win.”
Those words irritated me because they were true.
Everyone knew me as a man who responded with force.
A man who eliminated problems.
But this wasn't a business rival.
This wasn't someone trying to steal from me.
This was someone who had already taken something from me.
My wife.
My son's childhood.
My peace.
I looked down at the phone again.
Another notification appeared.
A photo.
Attached.
My stomach tightened.
I opened it.
It was taken inside my penthouse.
Today.
Minutes ago.
A picture of me standing in Alex’s room holding Emma’s phone.
My blood turned cold.
The person wasn't just watching.
They were inside.
I immediately reached for my weapon.
Elizabeth grabbed my arm.
“Wait.”
I looked at her.
“Someone is in my house.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you stopping me?”
“Because if they wanted to hurt you, they already would have.”
I hated that she was right.
I looked around the room.
Every corner.
Every shadow.
Every possible entrance.
My security system showed no alerts.
No cameras detected movement.
No alarms.
Impossible.
Nobody entered my home without triggering something.
Unless they knew how to bypass it.
Or unless they had help.
That thought landed harder.
Because my home had never been broken into.
Not once.
Which meant whoever did this understood my security better than most of my own employees.
I walked downstairs with Elizabeth and Alex behind me.
I called my security chief.
“Lock down the building.”
A pause.
Then Marcus answered.
“Already done.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“I saw the alert.”
“What alert?”
Silence.
A second too long.
“Marcus.”
His voice lowered.
“Andrew, there was a system override.”
My jaw tightened.
“When?”
“Six minutes ago.”
Six minutes.
The exact moment I opened Emma’s phone.
“Who accessed it?”
“I’m checking.”
“No.”
I looked at the empty kitchen.
“Tell me now.”
Another pause.
Then Marcus said:
“Your access code.”
My entire body went still.
“My code?”
“Yes.”
Impossible.
Only three people knew my private security code.
Me.
Marcus.
And—
I stopped.
Because there was one more person.
Someone who had known everything about my life.
Someone who had lived inside my home.
Someone who had access to every locked door.
Emma.
But Emma was dead.
I ended the call.
Elizabeth was watching me.
“You thought of her.”
I didn't answer.
“You thought Emma did it.”
“No.”
But my voice wasn't convincing.
Elizabeth shook her head.
“She would never hurt you.”
I looked at her.
“You didn't know her as well as I did.”
Elizabeth's expression changed.
“No.”
The word was soft.
“But I knew the part of her you refused to see.”
I didn't like that.
“What does that mean?”
“It means Emma spent the last months of her life trying to protect you from something you didn't want to believe existed.”
I stepped closer.
“What?”
Elizabeth looked toward Alex.
Then lowered her voice.
“Your family.”
The word hung there.
My family.
I had spent years protecting the James name.
Building it.
Expanding it.
Defending it.
But now every clue pointed back to the same place.
My own blood.
I turned toward the staircase.
“Where is my father?”
Elizabeth went silent.
That was enough.
“You know.”
“I know where he was the night Emma died.”
My chest tightened.
“Tell me.”
Elizabeth looked afraid for the first time.
Not of me.
Of what she was about to say.
“He wasn't supposed to be there.”
I waited.
“He came to the hospital before anyone called him.”
The room went quiet.
My father.
At the hospital.
Before anyone knew Emma was gone.
“How?”
Elizabeth looked down.
“Because he already knew.”
I felt anger rise.
Not the kind that exploded.
The kind that became dangerous.
I picked up my phone and called Charles James.
He answered on the second ring.
“Andrew.”
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
“Where are you?”
A pause.
“Why?”
“Answer me.”
Another pause.
Then:
“I’m at home.”
I looked at Elizabeth.
She was staring at me.
“That's interesting.”
“What is?”
“Because I’m standing outside your father's house.”
The line went silent.
My grip tightened.
“Who are you?”
A woman's voice answered.
Not my father.
Someone else.
Someone I didn't recognize.
“Andrew…”
The voice trembled.
“You need to leave before he knows you found me.”
My blood froze.
Because in the background of the call, I heard something.
A familiar sound.
A voice.
My father speaking to someone.
But he wasn't alone.
And then the woman whispered one name.
May you like
The name that made my entire body go cold.
“Emma.”
