THE WIFE HE MARRIED FOR REVENGE

THE PHOTOGRAPH

AVA'S POV

That old storage box had lived in the storage room for years. Honestly, I remember seeing it as a kid, always shoved behind piles of ancient tax files while I wandered around, looking for my dad. The same faded labels, same dusty corner. One pull and the air always made me sneeze.

Honestly, I wasn’t searching for family photos. I just wanted to dig up some old Bennett Enterprises marketing stuff, figured their initial brand identity could kickstart my ideas for Lumière's campaign. But, of course, the stored materials had different plans.

So there I was, sitting cross-legged on the cold floor, lost in a sea of yellowed paperwork. I started hitting old photographs. The first few made me grin. Dad at some corporate dinner, looking way younger, almost relaxed, honestly. Product launches, holiday parties, ribbon cuttings, the whole montage.

Then I froze.

One photo, eight years old, charity gala. My dad right in the middle, smiling broadly in a way I hadn’t seen in years, wide, real, completely unguarded. And right next to him, Elena Black.

My stomach twisted. I’d only ever seen her face once before, a single photo, and that was at Luca's study. Here she was again. Younger. Hair down, laughing at someone off camera. Beside her, Marcus Hale.

I frowned. Marcus is Luca’s top executive from what I knew, always sharp, polite, nothing out of place. But in this shot, Marcus’s hand rested on Elena’s back, gentle, almost familiar.

I flipped it over. Six faded letters in blue ink. Foundation Gala - R.B., E.B., M.H.

Richard Bennett. Elena Black. Marcus Hale.

My heart thudded. Maybe it was nothing. People stand close at events. Marcus had been with the Blacks forever, he could’ve just been doing his job.

I moved to the next photo from the same night. Dad near the stage, talking to a guest. Elena a few feet away. Marcus, off to the side, not facing the crowd, just staring at her.

“Okay...” I muttered. The last time I asked Dad about Elena, he went completely silent and his silence felt more like hiding something.

I tossed the first photo into my bag, pulse spiking when the storage room door squeaked.

“Miss Bennett?” Mrs. Collins, one of the senior admin staff poked her head in. “Are you still down here?”

“Just finishing up,” I said, covering the pile with a folder.

She eyed the mess. “Your father doesn’t really like anyone digging through those old boxes.”

“Why?”

She hesitated. “I wouldn’t know,” a little too quick, before backing out. “I’ll be upstairs if you need anything.”

When the door clicked shut, I stood up, the bag felt heavier than before. I grabbed a stack of marketing folders so I looked authentic, and moved toward the stairs. That’s when I heard Dad’s voice, soft, rapid, and anxious from his office.

“She was never supposed to find out,” he said, fear creeping into his voice. “I told you eight years ago, it was finished.”

I froze.

“I don’t care what you have to do,” Dad snapped, his voice sharp. “Just make sure it stays buried. Luca cannot know.”

My breath caught.

Luca cannot know.

I moved off quietly, without making a sound and made my way to the lower exit. Chest tight, head spinning. Eight years ago, Elena, Marcus, Dad. And now Luca.

I didn’t barge in demanding answers. Every instinct said, stay safe.

I headed to my car. The evening breeze felt sharp. In the driver’s seat, I pulled out my photo and looked at it carefully like I was examining it.

He’d spent eight years keeping whatever happened buried. If I was going to peel back that curtain, I needed to know what I was actually looking for.

I fired up the engine and put the photo aside before driving away.

***

I drove for ten minutes before I figured out I wasn’t even heading home. Just riding along, trusting muscle memory to guide me. My mind wouldn’t settle.

That sentence kept replaying.

Luca cannot know.

Why Luca? Dad has always kept many secrets from me, that’s just how it goes, I guess. But Luca? He’s not family. Not supposed to be, at least.

I tightened my grip on the wheel.

Maybe Dad meant Luca couldn’t know something about the company. Maybe Marcus was mixed up in an old deal. Maybe Elena’s connection to Bennett Enterprises ran deeper than I realized.

I kept telling myself, there had to be explanations. But why did Dad’s voice seem frightened?

Angry, cold, frustrated, I’ve seen all of those. He is stubborn enough to argue with a wall and expect the wall to back down. But afraid? Not so much.

At a red light, I glanced at the passenger seat. Marketing folders lying there. For a moment, I considered turning around, marching back, demanding answers.

But really, what would happen? Dad would probably lie. Or worse, give me just enough truth to shut me up. I know him. When he wants a secret kept, he’s a pro at making you feel like you’re crazy for asking in the first place.

So I kept driving.

By the time I got home, I’d convinced myself I needed a shower, dinner and sleep. None of that happened. I didn't see Luca around so I went straight upstairs and locked my bedroom door.

I pulled the photo out of my bag and set it on my desk.

Under the lamp, I studied their faces. Dad. Elena. Marcus. Nothing about the photo screamed danger. Which somehow made it worse. No clues. No secret signal. Just three people at a gala.

I flipped it over and stared at the handwriting. Who wrote it? Dad? Someone from the foundation? Maybe an event organizer?

I opened my laptop and googled the date.

The charity came up immediately, old articles about the gala. A small number of photos were still on the web, most of the pages partially archived or damaged.

I clicked through them anyway. My eyes burned after twenty minutes.

Then finally a business publication popped up.

BLACK FOUNDATION HOSTS ANNUAL CHARITY GALA.

Short article. The event raised money for children’s hospitals. Elena Black was listed as an organizer. Dad’s name too. Marcus? Not mentioned.

I frowned. Why was he in all these photos, but not on any official lists?

I tried searching Marcus’s name with the foundation. Nothing useful.

Then Dad’s name and Elena’s.

A couple of old articles. Business partnerships. Charity events. Industry dinners.

But one headline made me pause, it was a few months before Elena died. Something about a proposed Bennett-Blackstone partnership. I read it twice.

The deal was abandoned. No reason.

That was weird.

I’ve heard plenty about failed deals at Bennett Enterprises, but nobody ever mentioned something big with Blackstone. Maybe I forgot. Or maybe I was never told.

I closed the laptop. My head started pounding from all the thinking.

Looked at the photo again.

Something happened eight years ago.

Not just one thing. A string of them. The failed deal. Elena. Marcus. Dad. And somehow, Luca.

Picked up my phone. Opened Luca’s contact. My thumb hovered.

I could call him. Ask about his mom, ask about Marcus, ask if he knew anything about Bennett-Blackstone.

But what would I say?

Hey, Luca, I found an old photo of your dead mother standing with your top exec. Then I overheard my father losing his mind that you can’t find out about whatever went down eight years ago.

Not exactly an easy chat.

I locked my phone and placed it gently on the desk.

I slipped the photo into an envelope and set it on my desk drawer.

I took a shower, changed into my pygamas and turned off the light before crawling into bed.

And as I closed my eyes, one thought wouldn’t let go.

Tomorrow, I needed to find out exactly who Marcus Hale was eight years ago. Because somehow, I knew that answer would get me closer to the truth than anything my dad would ever confess.