Chapter 7: The Enemy Behind the Mask
For a few seconds, I couldn't speak.
The voice on the phone belonged to Isolde.
The woman who had stood beside my husband in a red dress.
The woman wearing my missing earrings.
The woman I had believed was the simplest part of this entire nightmare.
The other woman.
The betrayal I could understand.
But now she sounded terrified.
Not confident.
Not victorious.
Terrified.
"The person who betrayed your mother..."" Isolde repeated, her voice shaking.
I tightened my grip on the phone.
"Who?""
A long silence.
Then a whisper.
"I can't say his name over the phone.""
My eyes moved around the hallway.
Desmond was watching me.
Martin was waiting.
Victor looked tense.
Everyone wanted to know what she was saying.
"Then tell me where you are.""
Another pause.
"I can't.""
"Why?""
"Because if he finds me, I won't get another chance.""
The words sent a chill through me.
For months, I had imagined Isolde as someone who took what she wanted.
A woman who knew exactly what she was doing.
But fear couldn't be faked that easily.
Not like this.
"Why should I believe you?"" I asked.
Her breathing became uneven.
"Because I know what happened to your mother.""
The hallway went silent.
Even Desmond reacted.
"Tell me.""
"I saw the files.""
"What files?""
"The original Corvina records.""
My heart started pounding.
The same records my mother had mentioned.
The same records everyone seemed desperate to hide.
"Where are they?""
"I don't have them.""
"Then who does?""
A pause.
Then she said:
"Your husband.""
I looked at Desmond.
His expression changed immediately.
Not surprise.
Not confusion.
Fear.
I lowered the phone slightly.
"Isolde says you have the original records.""
Desmond closed his eyes.
"Wren...""
That was all it took.
A single word.
Not denial.
Not anger.
Just my name.
Like he already knew there was no way around it.
"You have them.""
"I have part of them.""
The honesty shocked me.
"Why?""
"Because your mother gave them to me.""
Everything stopped.
I stared at him.
"What?""
Victor took a step forward.
"No.""
Desmond looked at him.
"You knew she gave me something.""
Victor's face hardened.
"But not that.""
"What did she give you?"" I demanded.
Desmond looked at me.
"A copy of the founder's agreement.""
The same document my mother had told me to find.
The document that could reveal who truly controlled Corvina.
"Where is it?""
"Safe.""
I laughed bitterly.
"That word again.""
"Wren.""
"No.""
I stepped closer.
"You don't get to decide what safe means anymore.""
He looked like he wanted to argue.
But he didn't.
Because he knew I was right.
Martin looked between us.
"We need to understand something.""
Everyone turned toward him.
"Someone has been moving pieces for years.""
He pointed toward the phone.
"Isolde was framed.""
Then toward Victor.
"Your mother's attorney hid information.""
Then toward Desmond.
"And your husband has been holding a document that could change ownership of this company.""
His eyes met mine.
"The question is why.""
Nobody answered.
Because that was the question that had followed us all night.
Why?
Why hide the truth?
Why fake the accounts?
Why kill Eleanor Ashford?
Why manipulate everyone around Corvina?
The answer was somewhere inside those missing records.
My phone pressed against my ear.
"Isolde.""
"I'm here.""
"Tell me where to meet you.""
Desmond immediately said:
"No.""
I turned toward him.
His reaction was instant.
Protective.
Fearful.
"Why not?""
"Because if she's telling the truth, meeting her could put you in danger.""
"And if she's lying?""
"Then it's a trap.""
I looked at him.
"You sound very concerned about my safety.""
His face tightened.
"I am.""
The honesty almost hurt more.
Because that was the problem with Desmond.
He was not a simple villain.
He was a man who had done terrible things while still caring about me.
And somehow that was harder to accept.
Isolde spoke again.
"Don't trust anyone at Corvina.""
I looked at Victor.
Then Desmond.
Then Martin.
"That's a little late.""
"Wren, listen to me.""
Her voice became urgent.
"The person behind this has been planning for years.""
"Who?""
"I don't know everything.""
"But you know something.""
A shaky breath.
"His name is Adrian Cross.""
My body went still.
The name again.
The stranger from the elevator.
The man in the photograph.
The man who should not exist.
"Who is he?""
"I don't know who he really is.""
"What does that mean?""
"Because Adrian Cross died eight years ago.""
Nobody spoke.
The hallway felt freezing.
I looked at Desmond.
He looked like he already knew.
"Then who was the man at the elevator?""
Isolde whispered:
"That's what I was trying to find out.""
The call ended.
Just like that.
I stared at the screen.
No goodbye.
No explanation.
Nothing.
Only silence.
"She hung up," Martin said.
I looked at him.
"No.""
"What?""
"Someone made her hang up.""
The thought came suddenly.
And I knew I was right.
Because Isolde wasn't the type to leave unfinished sentences.
Not when she was afraid.
Desmond walked toward me.
"Wren.""
I held up a hand.
"Don't.""
He stopped.
"I need to think.""
"You need to leave.""
The words surprised him.
"What?""
"Go.""
His face changed.
"You're asking me to leave?""
"I'm telling you.""
For a moment, he looked hurt.
Then angry.
Then he controlled it.
"I know you're angry.""
"I'm not angry.""
That was the truth.
Anger was easy.
Anger was simple.
What I felt was worse.
"I don't know who you are.""
He looked away.
The sentence landed.
Because it was true.
I had spent ten years loving a man I only knew in pieces.
The version he allowed me to see.
"Please," he said quietly.
That word almost broke my resolve.
Almost.
Then I remembered the photograph.
My mother.
The hidden records.
The secrets.
"I need the founder's agreement.""
He looked at me.
"I'll get it.""
"No.""
"Wren—"
"You'll give it to Martin.""
He froze.
"Why him?""
"Because right now, I don't know if I trust you.""
The pain in his face was real.
But I couldn't let that change what I knew.
Not anymore.
Desmond nodded slowly.
"Okay.""
The word surprised me.
No argument.
No manipulation.
Just acceptance.
He turned to leave.
Then stopped.
Without looking back, he said:
"Your mother was right about one thing.""
I said nothing.
"You have to stop believing people are either good or bad.""
I looked at him.
"Why?""
"Because the people who hurt you the most are usually the ones who can still make you believe they love you.""
Then he walked away.
And I hated that the words sounded like something my mother would say.
An hour later, I was sitting inside my mother's old office on the top floor of Corvina.
The room had been untouched since her death.
Nobody had changed the furniture.
Nobody had moved the books.
It was like everyone was waiting for her to return.
Martin stood near the desk.
"I found something.""
I looked up.
"What?""
He placed a small box in front of me.
"Your mother left this in the company's private archive.""
I opened it.
Inside was a key.
An old-fashioned metal key.
And a handwritten note.
Not from my mother.
From Desmond.
My heart tightened.
I unfolded it.
*Wren,*
*If you're reading this, then I failed to protect you the way I promised Eleanor I would.*
I stopped.
The next line made my hands shake.
*I need you to know one thing: I never wanted Corvina.*
I looked at Martin.
Then back at the letter.
*I wanted to know who killed your mother.*
A second page was attached.
A location.
A storage facility outside Boston.
And one final sentence:
*The truth is there. But when you find it, you'll have to decide who deserves to survive it.*
I looked at the key.
Then at the address.
Martin frowned.
"What is it?""
I stood.
"We're going.""
"Now?""
"Yes.""
"Why?""
I looked toward the window.
Outside, the city lights stretched endlessly.
Somewhere out there was the truth.
The truth my mother died protecting.
The truth Desmond had hidden.
The truth Victor feared.
I closed my hand around the key.
"Because if someone spent seven years trying to bury something...""
I looked back at Martin.
"...I want to know what they were afraid I would find.""
Twenty minutes later, as we drove toward the storage facility, my phone lit up.
A message.
From Desmond.
One sentence.
*Don't open the box if Adrian Cross is still alive.*
I stared at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
*Because he isn't the person you should be afraid of.*
My breath caught.
A final message arrived.
*Your mother knew who he really was.*
I looked at the dark road ahead.
And for the first time, I wondered if finding the truth would actually save me.
Or if it would reveal something far worse.
May you like
Because maybe the biggest secret wasn't who killed my mother.
Maybe it was why she had trusted the person who did.
