Chapter 8: The Letter My Father Left Behind
I read my father’s words three times.
Not because I didn’t understand them.
Because I couldn’t accept them.
*Do not trust Grant Ellison.*
The sentence sat on the page like a warning from the past.
A warning written by a man who was no longer here to explain it.
My father had always been careful with his words.
He never exaggerated.
Never accused someone without evidence.
When I was a child, he used to tell me, “A person’s character is revealed in the things they do when nobody is watching.””
I had spent years believing Grant was simply someone who stopped loving me.
Now I wondered if my father had seen something I couldn’t.
I lowered the letter.
“Why didn’t you give me this?””
Richard looked broken.
“I tried.””
I stared at him.
“When?””
“After the funeral.””
“Eight years ago?””
He nodded.
“Then why didn’t I get it?””
Richard looked away.
“Because Grant convinced me you were too overwhelmed.””
My stomach tightened.
“Of course he did.””
“Mara—”
“No.””
I folded the letter carefully.
“Everyone keeps saying I was overwhelmed. Grieving. Confused. Like I was incapable of understanding my own life.””
“That wasn’t what I meant.””
“Maybe not.””
I looked at him.
“But that’s what happened.””
Richard rubbed his face.
“I thought I was doing the right thing.””
“You always thought that.””
The words hurt him.
I could tell.
But they were true.
People who betrayed you rarely believed they were villains.
They found reasons.
They created explanations.
They convinced themselves.
And sometimes, those explanations lasted longer than the truth.
“What else did my father write?”” I asked.
Richard hesitated.
“There were several letters.””
“Several?””
“Yes.””
“Where are they?””
His silence returned.
And this time, I was ready for it.
“Richard.””
He looked at me.
“I don’t have them.””
My heart sank.
“Who does?””
He swallowed.
“Grant.””
I left the café with the letter in my bag and a thousand questions in my head.
Theo was waiting outside.
He immediately opened the passenger door for me.
I sat down.
For a few minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then he asked:
“What did your uncle say?””
I handed him the letter.
He read it silently.
When he finished, he looked at me.
“Mara.””
I nodded.
“I know.””
“This changes things.””
“Yes.””
“Your father knew.””
“Yes.””
Theo looked out the window.
“Then Grant wasn’t just hiding information.””
“No.””
My voice was quiet.
“He was hiding a warning.””
That evening, we returned to Hawthorn Glasshouse.
Not for the wedding.
That was over.
The flowers remained.
The lights still hung from the ceiling.
But the celebration was gone.
The place looked strangely empty.
Like a stage after the actors had left.
Grant had asked to meet.
I almost refused.
Almost.
But I needed answers.
And this time, I was not walking in as his ex-wife.
I was walking in as the person he had underestimated.
Grant stood near the windows where we had spoken two days earlier.
The vineyard outside was darker now.
Winter approaching.
Everything changing.
“Mara.””
I held up the letter.
His face changed immediately.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
“You have it.””
“You knew about this?””
He looked away.
That was enough.
“How long?””
Grant sighed.
“I didn’t know where it was.””
“But you knew it existed.””
“Yes.””
“And you knew my father wrote about you.””
His silence was answer enough.
I felt something inside me finally break.
Not heartbreak.
Something else.
The last piece of trust.
“Why?””
Grant looked at me.
“I was afraid.””
“Of my father?””
“Of what he knew.””
I stepped closer.
“What did he know?””
Grant looked exhausted.
“I was young.””
“You keep saying that.””
“Because I made choices I regret.””
“Then tell me what they were.””
He closed his eyes.
“When your father died, Harborstone was unstable. Investors were fighting. Everyone wanted control.””
“And?””
“My father and your uncle believed they could preserve the company.””
“By taking my shares?””
“It wasn’t supposed to happen that way.””
I stared at him.
“What was supposed to happen?””
Grant looked down.
“My father wanted a temporary transfer.””
“A temporary transfer?””
“Yes.””
“Then why did nobody return them?””
He had no answer.
Because there was none.
“Grant.””
He finally looked at me.
“I signed documents because I thought I was helping.””
“No.””
“I did.””
“You helped yourself.””
His expression hardened.
“That’s not fair.””
“Stop saying that.””
I stepped closer.
“You keep asking for fairness from the person who lost everything.””
He became quiet.
“I loved you.””
The words surprised me.
Not because they were beautiful.
Because they sounded desperate.
I shook my head.
“Maybe you did.””
Grant looked hurt.
“Maybe?””
“Yes.””
“After everything, you think I never loved you?””
“I think you loved me when loving me was easy.””
He looked away.
“You loved the wife who supported you.””
Silence.
“You loved the person who believed you were good.””
My voice became softer.
“But when loving me required honesty, you chose yourself.””
Grant didn’t argue.
Because he knew.
“You left me for Celeste.””
“Yes.””
“And you married her.””
“Yes.””
“Was any of that real?””
He hesitated.
That hesitation hurt more than a lie.
“Mara…”
“Was it?””
Finally, he answered.
“Celeste was never supposed to be part of this.””
I frowned.
“What does that mean?””
Grant looked toward the wedding venue.
“She knew about the business connections.””
My heart stopped.
“She knew?””
“Yes.””
“How?””
“Her father.””
Matthew.
I remembered his reaction.
His anger.
His questions.
“What does Celeste know?””
Grant shook his head.
“I don’t know everything she knows.””
“You married her.””
“I know.””
“And you don’t know?””
His face tightened.
“Not everyone tells the truth in that family.””
Interesting.
Coming from him.
“Why did you invite me?””
Grant went still.
Finally, the question.
The real question.
“I wanted to see if you knew.””
I stared at him.
“About Harborstone?””
“Yes.””
“And if I didn’t?””
“I don’t know.””
“Yes, you do.””
He looked at the floor.
“I wanted to know if the documents were still missing.””
My heart sank.
“You weren’t inviting me to show me your happiness.””
“No.””
“Then why?””
He looked at me.
“Because if you had found out, you would have come looking.””
I laughed quietly.
“So you invited me to check if I was still ignorant.””
“No.””
“That’s exactly what you did.””
He had no response.
The worst part was that I wasn’t even angry anymore.
Anger was for people who surprised you.
Grant no longer surprised me.
Before I left, he stopped me.
“Mara.””
I turned.
“There’s something else.””
I waited.
“The shares weren’t just transferred.””
“What?””
“They were moved into another account.””
“Whose?””
Grant looked terrified.
Not guilty.
Terrified.
“I don’t know.””
“You expect me to believe that?””
“I’m serious.””
“Then what do you know?””
He swallowed.
“My father disappeared the original records.””
I frowned.
“Your father?””
“Yes.””
“And?””
“He wasn’t the only one.””
My chest tightened.
“Who else?””
Grant looked at me.
Then whispered:
“Celeste’s father.””
Matthew.
The man who had asked me about Harborstone.
The man who seemed shocked to see my name.
The man who claimed to want answers.
I stepped back.
“No.””
Grant nodded slowly.
“I think Matthew Rowan knew about the shares before you did.””
I stared at him.
My mind raced.
Why would Matthew help expose the truth if he was involved?
Unless…
Unless there was another reason.
Unless he wasn’t trying to hide something.
Unless he was trying to find something.
I left the glasshouse with more questions than answers.
But when I reached my car, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A woman’s voice spoke.
“Mara?””
I froze.
I knew that voice.
“Celeste?””
Silence.
Then:
“I need to tell you the truth about my father.””
I gripped the phone.
“What truth?””
Her voice shook.
“The reason my father recognized your name…”
A pause.
“…is because he’s been looking for you for eight years.””
I said nothing.
May you like
Then Celeste whispered the words that changed everything.
“Because he knows what really happened the night your father died.””
