Kiss Me Tomorrow

Chapter 8

Lena's POV

I didn't call Adrian.

Not immediately.

I stood in my kitchen with the photograph between my fingers, staring at the three men standing outside Vale Industries eleven years ago.

My father.

Adrian's father.

Elliot Mason.

Three men who had supposedly belonged to three separate parts of a story.

Now they were standing together in the same photograph.

And someone wanted me to know about it.

I turned the photograph over again.

Ask Adrian what happened that night.

I read the sentence until the words began to blur.

What night?

The night my father disappeared?

The night the money went missing?

The night the investigation began?

Or a night I had never even heard about?

My phone sat on the counter.

I reached for it.

Stopped.

If I called Adrian now, what would I say?

Someone left a photograph outside my apartment.

It has your father in it.

My father is in it too.

And someone says you've been hiding something from me.

It sounded insane.

I looked toward my apartment door.

Someone had been close enough to leave that envelope beneath it.

That meant they knew where I lived.

The thought sent a chill through me.

I locked the door again.

Then I checked the hallway through the peephole.

Empty.

I stepped away.

My phone buzzed.

I nearly dropped it.

It was Adrian.

Did you get home?

I stared at the message.

Of course he would ask that.

I typed:

Yes.

Three dots appeared.

Good.

I almost put the phone down.

Then I remembered the photograph.

My fingers moved before I could change my mind.

Can I ask you something?

His response came almost immediately.

Anything.

I swallowed.

What happened eleven years ago?

This time, the three dots didn't appear.

Nothing came.

One minute.

Two.

Five.

I watched the screen.

Then my phone rang.

Adrian.

I answered.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?"

"At home."

"Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"Lock the door."

"I already did."

"Good."

His voice was different.

More serious than usual.

"What happened?" he asked.

I looked down at the photograph.

"Someone left something outside my apartment."

Silence.

"What?"

"A photograph."

"Of what?"

"My father."

His breathing changed.

"And your father," I continued.

Silence.

"And Elliot Mason."

This time, Adrian didn't answer at all.

My stomach tightened.

"You know the photograph."

It wasn't a question.

"I've seen it."

"When?"

"Months ago."

My eyes closed.

"You lied to me."

"I didn't know if it was important."

"Don't do that."

"Lena—"

"Don't decide for me what's important."

"I wasn't trying to—"

"You were."

I heard him exhale.

"Send me a picture."

"I want you to tell me what happened first."

"I can't do that over the phone."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know who is listening."

I glanced around my apartment.

"That's comforting."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

He was quiet.

Then he said, "I'll come to you."

"No."

"Lena."

"No."

"You've received a threat."

"And you're not exactly the safest person to have around right now."

He went silent.

I hadn't meant it to sound cruel.

But it was true.

"You're right," he said eventually.

That surprised me.

Then he added, "Come to the office tomorrow morning."

"Why tomorrow?"

"Because it's late."

I looked at the clock.

10:47 p.m.

"And if I don't?"

"I'll come anyway."

I sighed.

"You're impossible."

"I've been told."

Despite everything, I smiled.

Then the smile disappeared.

"Adrian."

"Yes?"

"What happened that night?"

He didn't answer immediately.

"When I see you tomorrow," he said, "I'll tell you what I remember."

"What you remember?"

"Yes."

"Not what you know?"

Another silence.

"Goodnight, Lena."

"That's not an answer."

"I know."

The call ended.

I stared at my phone.

For some reason, I wasn't angry anymore.

I was nervous.

Because tomorrow, I was finally going to hear Adrian's version of the night that changed both our families.

---

I barely slept.

When morning came, I was already dressed.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

I looked tired.

But I also looked determined.

Whatever Adrian told me, I would listen.

I just wasn't sure whether I would believe him.

I arrived at Vale Industries at eight thirty.

The lobby was busy.

Employees moved through the building with coffee cups and laptops.

Nothing looked different.

That was the strange thing about secrets.

The world could be falling apart inside someone's head while everyone else continued their morning as if nothing had happened.

The receptionist looked up.

"Good morning, Ms. Hart."

"Good morning."

"Mr. Vale is expecting you."

"Of course he is."

She smiled politely.

I headed for the elevator.

When I reached the executive floor, Adrian was already waiting.

He looked like he hadn't slept either.

His tie was slightly loose.

His sleeves were rolled up.

He had a file in his hand.

"Good morning."

"Is it?"

"No."

I almost smiled.

He stepped aside.

"Come in."

I followed him into the office.

He closed the door.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then I placed the photograph on his desk.

He looked at it.

His face changed.

Not dramatically.

Just enough.

"You've seen it."

"Yes."

"When?"

"Months ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't know who had taken it."

I frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"This photograph was never supposed to exist."

I looked at him.

"Why?"

"Because the meeting in this photograph was never recorded."

"Meeting?"

"That's what it was."

He picked up the photograph carefully.

"Where was this taken?"

"Outside the old headquarters."

"And what were they doing?"

"I don't know."

I waited.

He finally sat down.

I took the chair opposite him.

"Tell me."

Adrian looked at the photograph.

"Eleven years ago, my father discovered that money had been moved through several Vale accounts."

"My father was blamed."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because the transactions appeared to have been authorized by him."

"But they weren't."

"I don't believe they were."

I studied him.

"You said you didn't know."

"I didn't know then."

"And now?"

"Now I know enough to believe he was framed."

I swallowed.

"By who?"

"I don't know."

"That's convenient."

"I know."

He didn't defend himself.

That somehow made it worse.

"What happened that night?"

Adrian leaned back.

"My father called Thomas Hart to the old headquarters."

"Why?"

"He believed Thomas had found something."

"What?"

"An unauthorized account."

My heart beat faster.

"What kind of account?"

"An account that didn't officially belong to Vale Industries."

I stared at him.

"Where was the money going?"

"Several private companies."

"Mercer Development?"

He looked at me.

"Yes."

My stomach dropped.

"So they were connected."

"Possibly."

"And my father knew?"

"He knew something was wrong."

"Then what happened?"

Adrian looked down.

"That was the last night anyone in my family saw Thomas."

My chest tightened.

"What do you mean?"

"He left the building."

"And?"

"He never came home."

I stared at him.

"That's not what my mother told me."

"What did she tell you?"

"She said my father left after an argument with the company."

Adrian shook his head.

"That's not what happened."

"What happened?"

"My father and Thomas argued."

"About the money?"

"Yes."

"And Elliot?"

"He was there."

"Why?"

"He was the auditor."

I looked at the photograph.

"Who took it?"

"I don't know."

"You said the photograph wasn't recorded."

"It wasn't."

"Then how did you get it?"

Adrian looked at me.

"Someone mailed it to me last year."

My heart stopped.

"Who?"

"No name."

"Same as mine."

"Yes."

I stared at him.

"Why would someone send both of us the same photograph?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe they're trying to tell us something."

"Maybe."

"Or manipulate us."

"Possibly."

I stood and walked toward the windows.

The city stretched below us.

I had imagined this conversation so many times.

I had imagined anger.

Accusations.

Maybe tears.

Instead, I felt strangely empty.

Eleven years of believing my father had betrayed everyone.

And now I was being told he might have been trying to uncover something.

"Did he disappear that night?"

"Yes."

"Did you see him?"

"No."

"You were seventeen."

"Yes."

"How do you know all of this?"

"My father kept records."

"After his death?"

"Before."

I turned.

"Your father died?"

"Six years ago."

I knew that.

Everyone in New York did.

But hearing Adrian talk about it felt different.

"What did he leave you?"

"Questions."

I looked at him.

He gave a humorless smile.

"Apparently, that runs in the family."

I almost smiled.

Then I remembered the photograph.

"Where is Elliot now?"

"I don't know."

"You said he disappeared."

"Three years ago."

"Could he be dead?"

"I don't know."

"Could he still be alive?"

"Yes."

I thought about the letter.

The sentence my father had written.

If anything happens to me, don't let them use Lena to get to me.

"What if Elliot knows where my father is?"

Adrian's expression hardened.

"That's what I've been trying to find out."

I turned to him.

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I wanted to protect you."

There it was again.

That word.

Protect.

I crossed my arms.

"From the truth?"

"From what the truth might bring."

"You don't get to choose that."

"I know."

"Do you?"

He looked at me.

"Yes."

Something in his expression softened.

"I know now."

The room became quiet.

I looked away.

"I need time."

"Take it."

"I don't know if I trust you."

"I understand."

"But I want to."

He looked at me.

I hadn't meant to say it.

His expression changed.

"Lena."

"I said I want to."

He stood.

Neither of us moved.

For a moment, the distance between us felt smaller than it had any right to.

Then his phone rang.

He looked at the screen.

His expression immediately hardened.

"What?"

He answered.

I watched his face.

"Where?"

A pause.

"Don't touch anything."

He ended the call.

"What happened?"

"They found Elliot Mason's car."

My heart jumped.

"Where?"

"Queens."

"Is he there?"

"We don't know."

I grabbed my bag.

"Let's go."

Adrian shook his head.

"No."

"What?"

"You stay here."

I stared at him.

"Absolutely not."

"It's dangerous."

"You just told me Elliot might be alive."

"We don't know that."

"Then I'm coming."

"Lena."

"No."

I walked toward the door.

He stepped in front of me.

"Move."

"No."

"Adrian."

"You're not going."

I glared at him.

"Move."

He didn't.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then he sighed.

"Fine."

I blinked.

"Fine?"

"You're coming."

I smiled.

"Thank you."

"But you're staying with me."

My smile disappeared.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"You really can't help yourself."

"No."

I shook my head.

"You are unbelievable."

"And you're stubborn."

"I've never denied it."

He opened the door.

"Come on."

We walked toward the elevator.

Neither of us noticed the security camera at the end of the corridor.

Neither of us noticed the small red light blinking.

And neither of us knew that someone was watching us leave.

---

The drive to Queens was quiet.

Not uncomfortable.

Just tense.

I stared out the window.

Adrian kept both hands on the steering wheel.

After several minutes, I spoke.

"Do you always drive yourself?"

"Usually."

"Why?"

"I prefer knowing where I'm going."

I smiled faintly.

"Control."

"Maybe."

I looked at him.

"Are you scared?"

His hands tightened slightly around the steering wheel.

"Yes."

The answer surprised me.

"Of what?"

"That we'll find nothing."

I looked at him.

He continued driving.

"And if we do find something?"

"Then I'll be afraid of what it means."

I understood that.

We reached the address fifteen minutes later.

A police vehicle was parked across the street.

A black car sat beside the curb.

Older.

Dusty.

I stared at it.

"Is that his?"

Adrian nodded.

"Yes."

We got out.

A police officer approached.

"Mr. Vale."

Adrian nodded.

"What do you have?"

"Vehicle was abandoned last night."

"Any sign of the owner?"

"No."

"Anything inside?"

The officer looked at me.

Adrian answered.

"She's with me."

The officer nodded.

"We found a phone."

My heart jumped.

"Where?"

"Inside the glove compartment."

Adrian looked at me.

"Let's see it."

The officer handed him a sealed evidence bag.

Inside was an old phone.

Adrian stared at it.

Then the screen lit up.

One new message.

The sender was unknown.

The message contained only a photograph.

Adrian opened it.

His face went pale.

"What?"

He turned the phone toward me.

I looked.

The photograph showed my father.

Alive.

Standing outside a train station.

And beside him was Elliot Mason.

The date on the photograph was eleven years old.

Three months after the night Adrian had told me my father disappeared.

My breath caught.

"That's impossible."

Adrian didn't answer.

I looked at him.

He was staring at the photograph like it had just changed everything he believed.

Then another message appeared.

He didn't disappear.

A second message followed.

He was taken.

And then the final one.

If you want to know where he went, stop trusting Adrian Vale.