THE LAWYER WHO LOVED HER ENEMY

Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH

For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.

I stared at the photograph.

My father.

Victor Cross.

Marcus Reyes.

Adrian.

And my mother.

Five people standing together.

Five people who, according to the back of the photograph, knew.

My fingers trembled.

"No..."

I looked at Adrian.

He was staring at the photograph too.

His face had gone pale.

"You knew my mother was there?"

He shook his head.

"No."

"Then why is she in this?"

"I don't know."

I looked at the photograph again.

My mother was standing beside my father.

She wasn't smiling.

Neither was my father.

Victor Cross stood on the other side.

Marcus Reyes was behind them.

And Adrian—

Adrian was much younger.

Thirteen years old.

He looked uncomfortable.

Almost frightened.

I turned the photograph over again.

THEY ALL KNEW.

Four words.

Four words that made everything I thought I knew about my family collapse.

"My mother lied to me."

Adrian looked at me.

"Maybe she was protecting you."

"She told me she didn't know anything."

"Maybe she didn't know everything."

"She knew enough to be here."

I stood.

"We need to go."

"Serena—"

"Now."

He didn't argue.

We left the room.

---

The drive home was silent.

I held the photograph in my hands the entire time.

I couldn't stop looking at it.

My mother had always told me she had been at home the night my father died.

She told me he had called her.

She told me he left the house alone.

But this photograph proved something else.

She had been with him.

At Cross Holdings.

With Victor.

With Marcus.

With Adrian.

The question was no longer simply what happened to my father.

The question was:

What had my mother been hiding from me for fifteen years?

Adrian pulled over outside my house.

He turned off the engine.

"You don't have to confront her tonight."

I looked at him.

"Why?"

"Because you're angry."

"Of course I'm angry."

"Exactly."

"She lied to me."

"Maybe."

"Stop defending her."

"I'm not."

I looked away.

He continued softly.

"I'm reminding you that we don't know the whole story."

I sighed.

"You always do that."

"Do what?"

"Try to find a reason for everyone."

He smiled faintly.

"That's what lawyers are supposed to do."

"Sometimes people are just guilty."

"Sometimes."

He looked at me.

"But sometimes the truth is more complicated."

I looked down at the photograph.

"I don't know who to trust anymore."

He didn't answer immediately.

Then he said:

"You can trust me."

I looked at him.

"Can I?"

His eyes held mine.

"Yes."

There was no hesitation.

No arrogance.

Just certainty.

And somehow, that scared me more.

Because I wanted to believe him.

---

I entered the house quietly.

My mother was in the kitchen.

She looked up.

"You're home."

I placed the photograph on the table.

Her face changed instantly.

The spoon in her hand fell.

It hit the floor with a sharp sound.

She stared at the photograph.

Then at me.

"Where did you get that?"

My voice was cold.

"Answer me."

She didn't.

"Why were you there?"

"Serena..."

"Why were you standing beside Dad, Victor Cross, Marcus Reyes, and Adrian?"

Her eyes filled with tears.

"I can explain."

"Then explain."

She sat down.

I remained standing.

"Your father asked me to come."

"When?"

"That night."

"Why?"

"Because he was afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

She looked at the photograph.

"Of what he had discovered."

"What did he discover?"

She shook her head.

"I don't know."

I laughed bitterly.

"You don't know?"

"I didn't."

"Then why were you there?"

"Because your father asked me to be there."

"Why?"

"He said he needed someone he trusted."

I stared at her.

"And you didn't tell me?"

"You were a child."

"I'm nineteen now."

"I know."

"You've had years to tell me."

She started crying.

"I wanted to protect you."

"From what?"

"From the truth."

I felt tears burning my eyes.

"Everyone keeps saying that."

"What?"

"Everyone keeps telling me they wanted to protect me."

I wiped my tears.

"But no one ever asks what I wanted."

She looked at me.

"I wanted my father."

Her expression broke.

"I wanted answers."

"I know."

"No, you don't."

My voice cracked.

"I spent fifteen years thinking my father died because he was betrayed."

"He was."

"By whom?"

She looked away.

"Your mother."

I froze.

"What?"

She shook her head.

"I mean..."

She closed her eyes.

"Someone close to him."

"Who?"

She didn't answer.

I placed both hands on the table.

"Mom."

She finally looked at me.

"Your father trusted the wrong people."

"Who?"

She whispered:

"Marcus."

My heart stopped.

"Marcus Reyes?"

She nodded.

"Why?"

"Because Marcus was the one who introduced your father to Victor Cross."

I stepped backward.

"What?"

"Your father believed Marcus wanted to help him investigate Cross Holdings."

"And he didn't?"

"He did at first."

"Then what happened?"

"He discovered how much money was involved."

I frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Your father wasn't investigating one illegal transaction."

She looked at me.

"He was investigating a network."

I felt cold.

"A network?"

"Companies."

"How many?"

"Dozens."

"And Cross Holdings?"

"Was only one of them."

I stared at her.

"Then why did everyone blame Cross Holdings?"

"Because Victor was the easiest person to blame."

I shook my head.

"That doesn't make sense."

"It will."

She looked toward the photograph.

"Victor wasn't the mastermind."

"Then who was?"

She hesitated.

"I don't know."

I knew she was lying.

"Mom."

She looked at me.

"Please."

She wiped her tears.

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because your father made me promise."

"Promise what?"

"Never to say his name."

My heart pounded.

"Whose name?"

She looked toward the window.

Then whispered:

"Daniel's closest friend."

---

I couldn't sleep again.

I sat at my desk and stared at the photograph.

There were too many questions.

Too many missing pieces.

And one name kept returning.

Marcus Reyes.

He had been the person who connected my father to Victor.

He had received money from Cross Holdings.

He was investigating the case.

He had been watching me.

And now my mother had confirmed that he had been involved from the beginning.

I picked up my phone.

I searched his name.

Nothing useful.

Then I remembered the flash drive.

I took it from my bag.

I had almost forgotten about it.

I plugged it into my laptop.

A single folder appeared.

JUNE14

I clicked it.

There were dozens of files.

Bank records.

Emails.

Scanned documents.

Photographs.

I opened the first file.

A list of transactions appeared.

Several companies.

Several bank accounts.

Millions of pesos.

I opened another.

An email.

FROM: Marcus Reyes

TO: Daniel Vale

You need to stop.

My heart pounded.

I opened the next.

You're getting too close.

Another.

Victor isn't the only one involved.

Another.

If you continue, they will come after your family.

I covered my mouth.

My father had been warned.

I opened another email.

The date was June 14, 2011.

The final email.

The subject line read:

TONIGHT.

I opened it.

Only one sentence.

Meet me at Cross Holdings at 10:00 p.m. Come alone.

There was no signature.

But the sender was visible.

Marcus Reyes.

My heart stopped.

Marcus had called my father there.

Not Victor.

Not anyone else.

Marcus.

I continued searching.

Then I found a video file.

My hands shook as I opened it.

The screen was dark.

At first, I heard voices.

My father's.

Victor's.

Then Marcus's.

I turned up the volume.

"You're making a mistake, Daniel."

My father's voice answered.

"I know what you did."

"What are you talking about?"

"The accounts."

Silence.

Then Marcus spoke.

"You don't understand."

"I understand perfectly."

"You'll destroy all of us."

"That's the point."

A loud crash.

Then Adrian's voice.

Young.

Terrified.

"Mom?"

I froze.

The recording continued.

"Adrian, go upstairs."

"But—"

"Now!"

Then my father's voice.

"Don't bring the boy into this."

Victor answered.

"He already knows too much."

My heart stopped.

Then Marcus spoke.

"There's only one way to fix this."

The recording suddenly ended.

I stared at the screen.

There was another file.

I clicked it.

A single audio recording.

My father's voice.

"If anything happens to me, Marcus Reyes is responsible."

I froze.

Then another voice whispered in the background.

A woman's voice.

My mother's.

"Daniel, please..."

The recording ended.

I sat completely still.

My mother had been there.

Marcus had been there.

Victor had been there.

Adrian had been there.

And somehow, all of them knew.

But there was something else.

Something I hadn't noticed.

I replayed the final recording.

This time, I listened carefully.

Behind my father's voice, barely audible, was another sound.

A door opening.

Then a man's voice.

Not Victor.

Not Marcus.

Not my father.

Someone else.

He said:

"It's done."

Then the recording stopped.

I froze.

Someone else had been there.

Someone who hadn't appeared in the photograph.

Someone who might have been responsible for everything.

---

The next morning, I went to the university.

Adrian was waiting outside the library.

The moment he saw my face, he knew something had happened.

"What did you find?"

I handed him the flash drive.

He plugged it into his laptop.

We listened together.

His face changed as the recordings played.

When my father's voice said Marcus's name, Adrian looked at me.

"I knew it."

"What?"

"My father wasn't alone that night."

I frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"I remember someone else."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"Then why?"

"Because I remember his voice."

I stared at him.

"What did he sound like?"

Adrian closed his eyes.

He concentrated.

Then suddenly opened them.

"Wait."

"What?"

"I remember."

He looked terrified.

"What?"

"He said something."

"What?"

Adrian stared directly at me.

"He said..."

His voice trembled.

"The girl must never know."

My blood ran cold.

"The girl?"

He nodded.

"You."

I couldn't breathe.

Someone had been discussing me.

Before I even understood what was happening.

Before I knew about the case.

Before I knew that my father had been investigating anything.

Someone had decided that I must never know the truth.

I looked at Adrian.

"Why me?"

He didn't answer.

Then his phone rang.

He looked at the screen.

His expression changed.

"Who is it?"

He didn't answer.

The phone rang again.

He finally picked it up.

"Hello?"

Silence.

Then his face went pale.

He slowly lowered the phone.

"What happened?"

He looked at me.

"My mother."

"What about her?"

"She's gone."

I froze.

"What do you mean, gone?"

"She's missing."

"Since when?"

"This morning."

I stared at him.

Then his phone received a message.

He opened it.

I watched his expression collapse.

"What does it say?"

He handed me the phone.

There was a photograph.

Adrian's mother was sitting in a chair.

Her hands were tied.

A black cloth covered her eyes.

Underneath the photograph were five words.

STOP THE INVESTIGATION OR SHE DIES.

I looked at Adrian.

His eyes were filled with fear.

And for the first time, I understood.

This wasn't just about my father's past anymore.

Someone was willing to hurt the people we loved to keep the truth buried.

And now...

they had Adrian's mother.

I reached for his hand.

He held mine tightly.

"We're going to find her," I whispered.

He looked at me.

"Together?"

I nodded.

"Together."

And somewhere in the city, the person who had been hiding behind the shadows was watching us.

Waiting.

Because they knew something we didn't.

The truth wasn't just dangerous.

The truth could destroy us all.