Chapter 2 - The Secret Behind Her Final Words
"You're lying."
The words came from a man in a black suit standing beside the emergency room doors.
He wasn't speaking to me.
He was speaking to the doctor.
But his eyes never left mine.
The hospital hallway suddenly felt smaller.
The executives from Whitmore Global Holdings stood frozen behind him.
The nurse holding the clipboard lowered her gaze.
And I stood there, staring at the doctor who had just changed everything with one sentence.
"She listed you as the father of her child."
I waited for someone to laugh.
For someone to say it was a mistake.
For someone to explain that the doctor had read the wrong document.
But nobody did.
The silence was real.
And that terrified me more than anything.
"That is impossible," the man in the suit finally said.
His voice was calm, but his face wasn't.
He looked like someone watching his entire world collapse.
"Dr. Collins, you need to check that form again."
The doctor frowned.
"I checked it twice."
"Then check it a third time."
The man stepped forward.
"My name is Victor Hale. I represent Ms. Whitmore and her family."
Family.
That word hit me strangely.
Because Clare Whitmore was known for keeping her personal life invisible.
The media knew her business deals.
They knew her investments.
They knew the companies she acquired.
But nobody knew who she loved.
Nobody knew who she trusted.
And apparently, nobody knew about me.
"I don't know what is happening," I said.
My voice sounded distant.
"I have never been with Clare."
Every person in that hallway looked at me.
Some with disbelief.
Some with suspicion.
And some with anger.
Victor slowly turned toward me.
"How long have you worked for her?"
"Three years."
"And you expect us to believe you had no idea?"
"No idea about what?"
He didn't answer.
That bothered me.
Because everyone seemed to know something except me.
The doctor cleared his throat.
"Mr. Mercer, I need you to understand something. Ms. Whitmore was conscious when she filled out the form."
I looked at him.
"She knew what she wrote?"
"Yes."
"She was not confused?"
"No."
"She wasn't under medication?"
"No."
My hands tightened.
Because that meant one thing.
Clare had chosen my name.
On purpose.
The same woman who had barely looked at me during meetings.
The same woman who acted like emotions were weaknesses.
The same woman who threatened my career hours earlier.
She had written my name.
Why?
Before anyone could ask more questions, a nurse rushed toward us.
"Dr. Collins."
Everyone turned.
The nurse looked nervous.
"Ms. Whitmore's condition changed."
The doctor's expression immediately changed.
"How bad?"
"We need to move faster."
The hallway became chaos again.
Doctors rushed back inside.
The doors closed.
And I was left standing there with a question that had no answer.
Why me?
I didn't leave the hospital.
I tried.
Twice.
The first time, I walked toward the exit.
I reached the automatic doors.
Cold air hit my face.
And then I remembered Clare lying in that car.
Her hand holding my wrist.
Her voice telling me not to let anyone know who she was.
I turned around.
The second time, I made it all the way to my truck.
I sat behind the wheel.
My hands were still shaking.
I looked at the clock.
2:17 a.m.
My daughter Lily would wake up in a few hours.
She would ask where I was.
She would ask if I was okay.
And I didn't even know what answer I could give her.
I picked up my phone.
I almost called my neighbor.
But before I could press the button, my screen lit up.
A message.
From an unknown number.
I opened it.
There was only one sentence.
"Ask Clare about the night she disappeared."
I stared at the screen.
My first thought was that it was a threat.
My second thought was worse.
Someone knew.
Someone knew there was something between me and Clare.
But there wasn't.
At least, not that I remembered.
I deleted the message.
Then immediately regretted it.
Because five seconds later, another one arrived.
This time, it had a picture attached.
My breath stopped.
The photo was old.
Years old.
It showed Clare.
Younger.
Different.
Standing outside a small apartment building.
And beside her was a little boy.
A child.
A child who looked strangely familiar.
The message underneath was simple.
"She never told you the truth."
I stared at the picture until my eyes hurt.
Then I heard footsteps behind me.
I turned.
Victor Hale stood near my truck.
"You received something."
It wasn't a question.
My heart sank.
"How do you know?"
"Because you're not the first person they contacted."
I stepped away from the truck.
"Who are they?"
Victor looked around the empty parking lot.
Then lowered his voice.
"Someone who doesn't want Clare waking up."
The words sent a chill through me.
"What does that mean?"
Victor looked toward the hospital.
"For years, Clare built an empire by trusting nobody."
He paused.
"But there was one secret she protected above everything."
I waited.
He looked at me.
"You."
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was impossible.
"Victor, I barely knew her."
"No."
His voice became sharper.
"You knew the version of her she wanted everyone to see."
I said nothing.
Because deep down, I remembered things.
Small things.
Moments I had ignored.
The way Clare sometimes looked at me like she was trying to remember something.
The way she asked strange questions about my daughter.
The way she once stood outside my office after everyone left and almost said something.
Almost.
But then she walked away.
I had assumed she was just being unpredictable.
Now I wasn't sure.
"Tell me the truth," I said.
Victor studied my face.
Then he reached into his briefcase.
He pulled out a small envelope.
"I wasn't supposed to give you this."
"What is it?"
"Something Clare left behind."
My fingers touched the envelope.
My name was written across the front.
Daniel Mercer.
My stomach tightened.
"She wrote this?"
Victor nodded.
"Two years ago."
Two years ago.
Before the accident.
Before tonight.
Before I knew there was any secret.
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a single photograph.
Not the same photo from the message.
Another one.
This one showed me.
Standing outside a daycare.
Holding Lily's hand.
My heart stopped.
Because I remembered that day.
I remembered someone watching me.
I remembered a black car parked across the street.
I remembered thinking it was nothing.
The back of the photograph had writing.
Only four words.
"She deserves the truth."
My fingers trembled.
"Victor..."
He didn't respond.
Because he was looking behind me.
At the hospital entrance.
His face changed.
"What?"
He whispered something I couldn't hear.
Then he grabbed my arm.
"Do not let them see that."
I turned.
Three men had entered the hospital.
They weren't executives.
They weren't doctors.
They weren't security.
They were strangers.
But Victor recognized them.
And the fear on his face told me everything.
One of the men looked directly at me.
Then at the photograph in my hand.
His expression changed.
He started walking toward us.
Slowly.
Like he had finally found what he was searching for.
Victor stepped in front of me.
"Daniel, run."
I didn't move.
Because the man stopped several feet away.
And he said my name.
Not Daniel.
Not Mr. Mercer.
Something else.
A name I had never heard before.
A name that made Victor go completely pale.
May you like
"David..."
The hospital elevator doors opened behind the stranger.
