Chapter 2
1704 Words
THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The rain tapped against the windows behind us, soft and steady, almost peaceful.
It was the only peaceful thing in the room.
I stared at Adrian Cross.
Six years ago, I had seen him standing in this house on the night my father died.
Six years later, he was standing in front of me again.
And somehow, he looked even more dangerous.
“Are you threatening me?” I finally asked.
Adrian’s expression didn’t change.
“No.”
“Because it sounded like a f*****g threat.”
Victoria stepped between us.
“Can both of you stop?”
I looked at her.
“Who is he?”
She hesitated.
That hesitation told me everything.
“You know him.”
“Of course I know him.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I knew you’d react like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like Elena.”
I laughed bitterly.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Victoria rubbed her forehead.
“It means you walk into a room, decide everyone is lying, and then start accusing people.”
“Maybe because everyone keeps lying.”
Adrian finally spoke.
“She’s right.”
Victoria turned toward him.
“Adrian.”
“What?” he asked calmly.
“You aren’t helping.”
“I wasn’t trying to.”
I looked at him.
“Why are you here?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, his eyes moved toward the desk.
My father’s desk.
Then back to me.
“I came because your father asked me to.”
My stomach tightened.
“When?”
“The night he died.”
I swallowed.
“Why?”
“Because he knew someone was coming for him.”
The room seemed to become colder.
I looked toward the desk.
“Who?”
Adrian shook his head.
“He didn’t tell me.”
“Bullshit.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You’ve known me for less than five minutes this time around, and you’re already calling me a liar.”
“I’ve known you for six years.”
“You saw me for approximately thirty seconds.”
“Long enough.”
A faint smile appeared on his face.
It wasn’t a friendly smile.
“You haven’t changed.”
“Neither have you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
He walked toward the window.
“I’ve changed considerably.”
Victoria sighed.
“Adrian, maybe you should leave.”
He looked at her.
“Maybe.”
Then he looked at me.
“But she’s going to ask questions whether I’m here or not.”
“You’re damn right.”
“Then you should hear the answers.”
I crossed my arms.
“Fine.”
Adrian turned around.
“Your father was investigating someone.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“Then what did he find?”
Adrian’s expression became serious.
“A ledger.”
My heart skipped.
“What kind of ledger?”
“Financial records.”
“About what?”
“Payments.”
“To whom?”
He looked directly into my eyes.
“People who were supposed to be dead.”
Silence.
Victoria’s face went pale.
I noticed.
“Victoria?”
She didn’t answer.
“Victoria.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
I stepped toward her.
“What do you know?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Elena, I said I don’t know.”
“Then why did you look terrified?”
She stared at me.
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
Adrian interrupted.
“The ledger is gone.”
I turned toward him.
“What?”
“The night your father died, it disappeared.”
“Who took it?”
“We don’t know.”
“Then how do you know it existed?”
“Because I saw it.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“You saw the ledger?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Your father’s study.”
I stared at him.
“That night?”
“Yes.”
“And then my father died?”
“Yes.”
“And you expect me to believe you had nothing to do with it?”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“No.”
“Good.”
“I expect you to believe that if I wanted your father dead, I wouldn’t have wasted time trying to save him.”
I froze.
“How did you try to save him?”
He looked away.
“I arrived too late.”
“How late?”
“Five minutes.”
My throat tightened.
“Five minutes.”
“Yes.”
“Then someone was already there.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
I looked at Victoria.
She was staring at the floor.
Something wasn’t right.
Something about this entire family felt wrong.
And I was beginning to suspect that my father’s death wasn’t the beginning of the story.
It was the middle.
⸻
THE BOX
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
My old bedroom looked exactly as it had when I left.
The same faded wallpaper.
The same bookshelf.
The same window overlooking the gardens.
Even the small crack in the ceiling was still there.
I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at my suitcase.
I should have left.
I knew that.
But something inside me wouldn’t let me.
My father’s words kept repeating in my head.
Trust no one in this family.
I stood.
Then I walked toward his study.
The hallway was dark.
I turned on my phone flashlight and slowly approached the door.
It was unlocked.
I pushed it open.
Nothing had changed.
The desk.
The bookshelves.
The fireplace.
The painting of my grandfather.
I walked toward the desk.
My father’s chair was still there.
I touched it.
For a moment, I was eighteen again.
Angry.
Terrified.
Standing in the doorway while blood covered the floor.
I shook my head.
“No.”
I wasn’t going to fall apart.
Not tonight.
I opened the desk drawers.
Empty.
Another drawer.
Nothing.
Then the bottom drawer.
Locked.
I frowned.
I searched through the desk until I found a small metal key taped underneath the drawer.
My heart began racing.
“What were you hiding, Dad?”
I unlocked it.
Inside was a small black box.
No name.
No markings.
Just a tiny silver keyhole.
I opened it.
Inside was an envelope.
My name was written across it.
ELENA.
My hands trembled.
I opened the envelope.
There was a photograph.
I turned it over.
My breath caught.
The photograph showed my father standing beside another man.
I recognized the other man.
Adrian’s father.
But that wasn’t what frightened me.
There was a third person in the photograph.
A young woman.
My mother.
I stared at the picture.
They were standing together twenty-five years ago.
My mother was holding a baby.
I turned the photograph over.
Written on the back were four words.
THE BABY WASN’T YOURS.
My fingers went numb.
“What the f**k?”
I dropped the photograph.
A floorboard creaked behind me.
I spun around.
Nobody.
“Hello?”
Silence.
I grabbed the photograph from the floor.
Then I heard footsteps.
Slow.
Coming closer.
I backed away from the door.
“Who’s there?”
The footsteps stopped.
I reached for my phone.
The door suddenly slammed shut.
I screamed.
Someone grabbed my wrist from behind.
I tried to pull away.
“Let me go!”
A hand covered my mouth.
I kicked backward.
“Calm down.”
I recognized the voice.
Adrian.
He released me.
I spun around and shoved him.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“This is my father’s study!”
“And someone else was here.”
I froze.
“What?”
Adrian pointed toward the window.
The curtains were moving.
I looked at them.
“Was that person still here?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I saw him leave.”
My blood ran cold.
“You saw someone?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Adrian’s eyes locked onto mine.
“I don’t know.”
I laughed nervously.
“That’s becoming your favorite answer.”
He ignored me.
“What did you find?”
“Nothing.”
His eyes dropped to my hand.
The photograph.
He immediately became still.
“Where did you get that?”
I held it tighter.
“Why?”
“Elena.”
“What?”
“Give me the photograph.”
“No.”
“Give it to me.”
“Why?”
“Because if that’s what I think it is…”
He stopped.
“What?”
Adrian looked at the photograph again.
Then at me.
“Your father never told you?”
“Told me what?”
He took a slow breath.
“About the child.”
I felt the room spin.
“What child?”
Adrian didn’t answer.
I stepped closer.
“What child?”
He looked at me with an expression I had never seen before.
Fear.
Real fear.
Then he said quietly:
“Your mother had another baby.”
I stared at him.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
“My mother only had Victoria and me.”
“That’s what you were told.”
My heart pounded.
“Where is the baby?”
Adrian looked toward the closed door.
“I don’t know.”
“Then who is it?”
He looked back at me.
“That’s what your father was trying to find out.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Why?”
“Because the child is connected to everything.”
“Everything?”
“The money.”
“The ledger.”
“Your father’s death.”
He paused.
“And the reason my father was murdered twenty-five years ago.”
I stared at him.
Then I realized something.
There was one question I hadn’t asked.
“Adrian…”
“What?”
“Who is the baby?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he whispered:
“That’s the question you should be most afraid to ask.”
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