I took the phone from Sophie and read the message again.
ASK YOUR FATHER ABOUT EMILY.
There was no number attached that I recognized.
Just a blocked sender.
Sophie watched my face.
“Dad?”
I looked at her.
“Don't answer it.”
“Why?”
“Because we don't know who sent it.”
She folded her arms.
“But you know who Emily is.”
I couldn't lie.
Not after everything that had happened.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
I sat down on the bench beneath the lobby window.
Sophie sat beside me.
“Emily was someone I knew before I met your mother.”
“An ex?”
“Something more complicated than that.”
“Did you love her?”
“Yes.”
She absorbed that quietly.
“Then why have I never heard her name?”
“Because I thought that part of my life was over.”
“Did she leave?”
“I believed she did.”
Sophie frowned.
“Why?”
I looked through the glass doors.
“Because I received a letter from her saying she didn't want contact anymore.”
“Did you believe it?”
“At the time, yes.”
“Do you still?”
I looked at the message.
“No.”
She knew immediately.
“Someone made you believe it.”
“I don't know that yet.”
“But you think Grandpa had something to do with it.”
I didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Sophie stood.
“I want the truth.”
“You'll get it.”
“When?”
“As soon as I know it.”
She nodded.
Then she asked quietly, “Could Emily be my mother?”
The question struck me so hard I forgot to breathe.
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
“You're my daughter.”
She looked relieved.
“I know.”
“But I understand why you asked.”
She sat again.
“Then what does she have to do with me?”
“I don't know.”
That was becoming the most uncomfortable sentence in my life.
I don't know.
For years, I had been the person who always knew.
Which contractor.
Which deadline.
Which number.
Which risk.
Which decision.
Now my own family had become the one problem I couldn't solve with a spreadsheet.
The next morning, my attorney arrived before sunrise.
He brought a sealed evidence bag.
Inside was a letter.
“Where did this come from?”
“Martin's office.”
I stared at the envelope.
My name was written across the front.
The handwriting was the same as the message Sophie had shown me.
Not the same person necessarily.
But whoever had sent the anonymous message knew about the letter.
I opened it carefully.
The paper smelled faintly of dust.
The first sentence made my chest tighten.
Daniel, if you're reading this, then someone finally gave you what they kept from you.
I read the rest without speaking.
Emily had written the letter twelve years earlier.
She had said she had tried to contact me.
She had said someone told her I wanted nothing to do with her.
She had said she believed I had chosen Claire.
But one sentence stood out.
Martin Collins told me you had moved on and that contacting you would destroy your marriage.
I closed my eyes.
My attorney watched me.
“Did Martin know her?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don't know.”
“Did Claire?”
“I don't know.”
He placed another envelope on the table.
“This was found with it.”
The envelope was addressed to Emily.
It had never been mailed.
Inside was a copy of a letter I had written years earlier.
I recognized my handwriting.
I had written it to Emily.
But I had never sent it.
Or at least I thought I hadn't.
The letter said I was sorry.
It said I believed she wanted no further contact.
It said I respected her decision.
My stomach turned.
“Someone intercepted both sides.”
“That appears likely.”
I looked at my attorney.
“Why?”
“We don't know.”
I stood.
“We need to know.”
At ten that morning, investigators searched Martin's home office.
I stayed away.
Ethan called me while they were inside.
“They found boxes.”
“How many?”
“Four.”
“What's inside?”
“Financial records. Copies of your contracts. Personal correspondence.”
My jaw tightened.
“Anything about Emily?”
“Possibly.”
“Find out.”
Twenty minutes later, he called again.
“There are photographs.”
“Of what?”
“Your old office.”
I frowned.
“Why would Martin have photographs of my office?”
“I don't know.”
“Anything else?”
“There's a photograph of you and Emily.”
I closed my eyes.
“Send it.”
A minute later, the image arrived.
It was old.
Emily stood beside me outside my first office.
I was thirty.
She was smiling.
Neither of us knew someone was taking the picture.
I stared at it.
Sophie came into the room.
She saw my expression.
“Is that Emily?”
“Yes.”
“She looks happy.”
“She was.”
“Were you?”
I smiled sadly.
“Yes.”
She looked at the photograph.
“Then why did you leave her?”
“I thought she left me.”
Sophie looked at the screen.
“She didn't.”
“No.”
She was quiet.
Then she asked, “Was Mom involved?”
“I don't know.”
“Dad.”
“I won't lie to you.”
She nodded.
“That means yes?”
“It means I don't know.”
At noon, Claire called.
I answered.
“Where are you?”
“At work.”
“Can I see you?”
“Why?”
“I need to tell you something.”
I almost refused.
Then I remembered the letters.
“Where?”
She named a small park.
I arrived ten minutes later.
Claire was sitting on a bench.
She looked frightened.
“What happened?”
She stood.
“I found out about Emily.”
My expression changed.
“How?”
“My mother told me.”
“What did she tell you?”
“That Dad knew her.”
“I know.”
Claire shook her head.
“No. You don't know everything.”
I waited.
“He didn't just know her.”
“What then?”
“He paid her.”
The words landed hard.
“For what?”
“To leave.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“Dad paid her to disappear.”
“When?”
“Before we got married.”
I couldn't speak.
Claire's eyes filled.
“I didn't know until yesterday.”
“How much?”
“I don't know.”
“Who arranged it?”
“My father.”
“Did you know about the letters?”
“No.”
“Did your mother?”
“She suspected.”
I turned away.
The park was nearly empty.
A child was pushing a red sled across the snow.
Everything looked painfully ordinary.
“How long have you known your father was capable of this?”
Claire swallowed.
“Longer than I wanted to admit.”
“Then why did you marry me?”
“Because I loved you.”
“And you thought he would stop?”
“I thought I could manage him.”
“You couldn't.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“You watched him humiliate Sophie.”
“I know.”
“You watched him try to take my company.”
“I know.”
“And now you're telling me he destroyed someone else's life before we even married.”
“I know.”
I rubbed my face.
“What did Emily do?”
Claire shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“Find out.”
She looked at me.
“I will.”
“Not for me.”
“I know.”
“For Sophie.”
She nodded.
When I returned to the office, Ethan was waiting.
“We found the payment.”
“To Emily?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
I stared at him.
“When?”
“Six months before your wedding.”
My hands went cold.
“What account?”
“Martin's personal account.”
“And where did the money go?”
“To a medical facility.”
I looked up.
“Medical facility?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“We don't know.”
“Find out.”
He nodded.
Then he hesitated.
“There is one more thing.”
“What?”
“The payment wasn't the only one.”
He placed another sheet on the desk.
There had been three.
Fifty thousand.
Twenty thousand.
Thirty-five thousand.
The final payment was made eleven months after my wedding.
I stared at the date.
“Why would he pay her after we were married?”
“We're investigating.”
I looked at the paper.
Then I understood something.
Emily hadn't simply disappeared.
Someone had been maintaining the disappearance.
The question was why.
That evening, Sophie found me in the conference room.
She had been quiet all day.
“What did you find?”
I didn't ask how she knew.
She knew me too well.
I told her.
She listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she stared at the table.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Was Mom part of it?”
“I don't know.”
She looked angry.
“But she knew Grandpa was dangerous.”
“Yes.”
“Then she knew enough.”
I didn't correct her.
She looked at the floor.
“I hate this.”
“I know.”
“I thought the worst thing was that Mom didn't stop Grandpa.”
She wiped her cheek.
“But this is worse.”
I sat beside her.
“Why?”
“Because you were hurt before I was even born.”
I put my arm around her.
“That isn't your burden.”
“But it happened because of my family.”
“You didn't choose them.”
“Neither did you.”
I smiled sadly.
“No.”
She leaned against me.
After a while, she asked, “Do you still love Emily?”
The question surprised me.
“I don't know.”
“That's okay.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don't have to know everything.”
I looked at her.
She smiled faintly.
“You said that to me.”
I laughed quietly.
“I did.”
The next morning, a private investigator called.
He had located Emily.
She was alive.
She had been living under a different last name for nearly a decade.
She had agreed to meet.
The appointment was set for Saturday morning.
I stared at the calendar.
For twelve years, I had believed Emily had chosen to disappear.
Now I was going to sit across from the woman who had once known me better than anyone.
And finally ask the question I should have asked years ago.
Why did you leave?
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: I Finally Sat Across From the Woman I Thought Had Abandoned Me, and Her First Sentence Destroyed Everything I Believed About Our Past
My Daughter Called Me From the Cold, and Within Minutes I Knew the Family I Had Protected Was No Longer Worth Protecting
Part 6 of 20
