Chapter Three - The things I Didn't Know
1167 Words
Someone had just entered my house.
I stood inside Serena's bedroom, staring at the closed door.
The phone was still in my hand.
You're next.
Then I heard footsteps downstairs.
Slow.
Heavy.
“Dad?”
No answer.
I grabbed a small glass perfume bottle from Serena's dresser.
It wasn't much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing.
The footsteps stopped.
Then the front door opened.
“Amara?”
I almost dropped the bottle.
It was my father's voice.
I released the breath I'd been holding.
“Dad?”
He looked up at me from the bottom of the stairs.
His black suit was damp from the rain.
“You're still awake?”
“It's almost four.”
“I couldn't sleep.”
Neither could I.
He climbed the stairs and noticed the bottle in my hand.
“Planning to attack someone?”
I quickly put it down.
“I thought someone broke in.”
His expression changed.
“What makes you think that?”
“I heard the door.”
“I came through the front door.”
“I know that now.”
He studied me.
“You look frightened.”
“I'm fine.”
“Amara.”
That familiar voice almost broke me.
This was my father.
The man who had protected me my entire life.
Surely Serena couldn't have meant him.
“Did Serena ever say anything strange to you before she died?”
His eyes flickered.
“No.”
“Nothing about Damian Cross?”
His expression hardened.
“Why are you asking about him?”
“He said Serena contacted him.”
“Damian Cross says many things.”
“Your sister would never have trusted that man.”
I thought about the photograph of Serena with Damian.
I hadn't shown it to him.
“Are you sure?”
He stared at me.
“What are you asking me, Amara?”
“I found a photograph.”
“Of who?”
“Serena. With Damian.”
Silence.
Then he sighed.
“Your sister was investigating him.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“But you said she would never trust him.”
“I said she wouldn't trust him. That doesn't mean she wasn't investigating him.”
That made sense.
At least, it could.
Serena had always been curious.
Maybe the photograph meant nothing.
I wanted it to mean nothing.
“Where were you tonight?” I asked.
“At the office.”
“Until four?”
“I had meetings.”
“With who?”
“Why?”
“No reason.”
He gave me a tired smile.
“Go to bed.”
He walked away.
I watched him disappear.
For the first time, I wondered if grief was making me suspicious of shadows.
---
I returned to Serena's room.
I picked up the photograph and turned it over.
He knows what Dad did.
My stomach tightened.
What did Dad do?
I opened the black envelope again.
A folded piece of paper fell out.
An address.
And beneath it, Serena's handwriting:
Ask him about Daniel.
Daniel Cross.
Damian's older brother.
His death ten years ago had started the war between our families.
I remembered Serena once telling me:
“Because there are always three sides to a story, Ama. Yours, theirs, and the truth.”
I hadn't understood her then.
I did now.
I needed answers.
And I wasn't ready to ask my father.
So I went to Damian.
---
Cross Tower was cold and intimidating.
When I told the receptionist my name, she immediately called upstairs.
“He'll see you.”
I frowned.
“That quickly?”
The elevator took me to the top floor.
Ethan Reed was waiting.
“Damian's expecting you.”
“How did he know?”
“He didn't.”
A faint smile crossed his face.
“He hoped.”
That wasn't comforting.
---
Damian stood behind his desk.
“You came.”
“I need answers.”
“Which ones?”
I placed Serena's note on his desk.
“She told me to ask you about Daniel.”
His expression changed.
“Daniel was my brother.”
“How did he die?”
Damian opened a cabinet and handed me a file.
Inside were photographs, financial records, and documents bearing my father's name.
I looked up.
“What is this?”
“Evidence.”
“Of what?”
“Your father's company received money from a company that didn't officially exist.”
I shook my head.
“This doesn't prove anything.”
“No.”
His answer surprised me.
“It doesn't.”
“You've been investigating my family for years.”
“I wanted to know what happened to mine.”
“And Serena helped you?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Six months.”
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“She didn't want you involved.”
“Did she tell you she was afraid?”
“Yes.”
“Of who?”
“I don't know.”
For the first time, I wondered if Damian really had all the answers.
Maybe he was searching too.
That didn't make me trust him.
It only made him harder to understand.
Then I noticed a photograph on his desk.
I picked it up.
It was me.
Twelve years old.
Standing outside my family's estate.
I stared at Damian.
“Where did you get this?”
“Serena.”
“You've had this for ten years?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She asked me to keep it.”
“Why would she give you a picture of me?”
“She was worried about you.”
“You've known me since I was twelve.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever meet me?”
“No.”
“Then why were you watching me?”
“I wasn't watching you.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“I was watching the people around you.”
“Why?”
“Because Serena believed you were in danger.”
“From who?”
Damian didn't answer.
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
You should have listened to your sister.
Another message appeared.
Stop digging.
I handed the phone to Damian.
His expression turned cold.
“Did you receive anything before?”
“Yes. Someone told me I was next.”
He stared at me.
“Someone knows you're investigating.”
“But I just started.”
“No.”
His eyes met mine.
“You just started asking questions.”
He looked at the photograph of me.
“Someone has been afraid of you asking them for a very long time.”
I stared at him.
For the first time, I wasn't wondering whether my father was guilty.
I wasn't even wondering whether Damian was telling the truth.
I was wondering something worse.
What if Serena hadn't been afraid of what she discovered?
What if she'd been afraid of what would happen when I discovered it too?
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