Chapter 3: The Man From the Funeral
“Emily, your father never died.””
The words hung in the air.
For a moment, I couldn't move.
The man who had spoken them stood near the restaurant entrance, rainwater dripping from the shoulders of his dark jacket. He looked older than I remembered, but there was something about his eyes that pulled a fourteen-year-old memory out of the deepest corner of my mind.
A funeral.
Black umbrellas.
Wet pavement.
My mother's hand around mine.
And that face.
Watching me from across the cemetery.
“You,” I whispered.
The stranger nodded.
“You remember.””
Michael moved in front of me.
“Step away from her.””
The man's eyes shifted to him.
“You haven't changed.””
Michael's expression hardened.
“You've got three seconds to leave.””
“One.””
The man took a step forward.
“Two.””
“Michael,” I said.
He didn't look at me.
“Stay behind me.””
“Three.””
The stranger stopped.
Then he reached into his jacket.
I heard Daniel suck in a breath.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
But the man pulled out a small leather wallet and opened it.
Inside was an old photograph.
He held it up.
My father's face stared back at me.
He was younger.
Smiling.
Alive.
And standing beside the same man now facing me.
My fingers went numb.
“Where did you get that?””
The stranger lowered the wallet.
“Your father gave it to me.””
“When?””
“Three days ago.””
I stared at him.
“That's impossible.””
“I know.””
Michael looked sharply at him.
“You said he never died.””
“He didn't.””
“Then where is he?””
The man looked at me.
“Safe.””
“Where?””
“I can't tell you.””
I stepped around Michael.
“Why not?””
“Because the people who have been watching you for fourteen years are still watching.””
I looked toward the restaurant windows.
Rain slid down the glass in crooked silver lines.
Nobody outside seemed interested in us.
But suddenly every person in the room looked suspicious.
Every phone.
Every camera.
Every stranger sitting alone.
“Who is watching me?””
The man shook his head.
“Not here.””
Michael's voice was cold.
“You were told never to contact her.””
“I was told not to contact her until it was safe.””
“And is it safe?””
“No.””
“Then why are you here?””
The stranger looked at me.
“Because she was about to marry the wrong man.””
Silence.
I looked at Michael.
“What does that mean?””
Michael's jaw tightened.
“Don't listen to him.””
The stranger smiled bitterly.
“That would have been useful advice fourteen years ago.””
Daniel stepped forward.
“What's your name?””
The stranger looked at him.
“You know my name.””
Daniel went pale.
“I want to hear you say it.””
The man sighed.
“Thomas Reed.””
My mind searched for the name.
Nothing.
Then Daniel said, “Thomas was your father's security chief.””
I turned.
“What?””
Daniel looked at me.
“Before the fire.””
Thomas corrected him.
“Not before.””
Daniel frowned.
“Then when?””
“After.””
A chill went through me.
Thomas walked toward our table.
Michael didn't stop him this time.
He placed the photograph on the table beside the letter.
Then he looked at me.
“Your father hired me the night before the fire.””
“Why?””
“To protect you.””
“I was seventeen.””
“Yes.””
“From what?””
Thomas looked at Michael.
“From him.””
Michael's face became unreadable.
I stared at my husband.
“What did my father know about you?””
Thomas answered before Michael could.
“Everything.””
Michael turned.
“Enough.””
Thomas ignored him.
“Your father discovered that Michael had access to company records, private accounts, and internal security systems.””
“That doesn't mean he betrayed him.””
“No,” Thomas said.
“It means he had the ability to.””
I looked at Michael.
“You worked for my father?””
“I did.””
“Then why did Daniel say you were working against him?””
Michael didn't answer.
Thomas did.
“Because he was.””
The accusation landed between us.
Michael rubbed a hand across his jaw.
“You don't know the whole story.””
“Then tell it.””
He looked at me.
“I can't.””
I nearly laughed.
“Of course you can't.””
Michael stepped closer.
“Emily, there are things you were protected from because knowing them would have put you in danger.””
“Stop saying that.””
“What?””
“That word. Protected.””
I pointed toward the photograph.
“You knew my father was alive.””
“Yes.””
“You knew Thomas.””
“Yes.””
“You knew Daniel.””
“Yes.””
“You knew about the fire.””
“Yes.””
“And you married me anyway.””
Michael's face tightened.
“Yes.””
My throat burned.
“Why?””
He took a breath.
“Because your father asked me to.””
Everything inside me went still.
“What?””
Michael's voice dropped.
“Your father asked me to stay close to you.””
Thomas looked away.
Daniel shook his head.
“No.””
Michael turned toward him.
“Yes.””
“You're lying.””
“I was there.””
“So was I.””
“You were fifteen minutes late.””
Daniel stepped forward.
“You think that excuses what happened?””
“No.””
“What about the warehouse?””
Michael's eyes sharpened.
“Not here.””
I looked between them.
“What warehouse?””
Neither answered.
“Michael.””
He closed his eyes.
“After the fire, your father disappeared.””
“Because he survived.””
“Yes.””
“And then?””
“He went underground.””
“Why?””
Michael looked at Thomas.
Thomas answered softly.
“Because someone inside his company tried to have him killed.””
I swallowed.
“Who?””
Thomas said, “We don't know.””
“But you just said Michael was working against him.””
“He was.””
“Then he was the one who tried to kill him.””
Thomas paused.
“No.””
That answer confused me more than anything.
“Then who?””
Thomas looked directly into my eyes.
“Someone Michael was protecting.””
I stared at him.
“Who?””
The restaurant suddenly felt colder.
Michael's face had gone pale.
Thomas reached into his wallet again and removed a folded piece of paper.
He handed it to me.
“Your father wrote this.””
I unfolded it.
The handwriting matched the letter.
My hands trembled as I read.
*Michael is not the enemy. But he is not innocent.*
I looked up.
Thomas continued.
“He made a deal with your father.””
“What deal?””
“He would take the blame for one crime to protect the person who actually committed it.””
I frowned.
“Which crime?””
Thomas didn't answer immediately.
Michael did.
“The fire.””
My breath caught.
“You took the blame?””
“Not officially.””
“Then what does that mean?””
Michael looked toward the rain-streaked window.
“It means I let everyone believe I had betrayed him.””
“Why?””
“Because the truth would have killed someone.””
“Who?””
He turned back to me.
“Your mother.””
The name hit me like a physical blow.
“My mother?””
Daniel whispered, “Emily…”
I looked at him.
“What does my mother have to do with the fire?””
Thomas's expression hardened.
“She was there.””
My fingers tightened around the paper.
“No.””
“She was at the factory.””
“No.””
“Your father didn't tell you because he wanted you to remember her as your mother, not as the person she became that night.””
Michael stepped toward Thomas.
“That's enough.””
Thomas stared at him.
“You're still protecting them.””
“I promised.””
“To whom?””
Michael didn't answer.
Thomas looked at me instead.
“To your father.””
My head was spinning.
“My mother died two years after the fire.””
“Yes.””
“From cancer.””
Thomas nodded.
“That is what they told you.””
I looked at Michael.
His face told me the answer before his mouth opened.
“Emily…”
“Was my mother sick?””
“Yes.””
“Was that why she died?””
He hesitated.
“No.””
The room seemed to tilt.
I grabbed the edge of the table.
“Then why did she die?””
Nobody answered.
Daniel stepped closer.
“She was silenced.””
Michael shot him a warning look.
Daniel ignored it.
“Your mother found out who caused the fire.””
“Who?””
Daniel looked at Michael.
Then at Thomas.
Then back at me.
“The person your father was protecting.””
I stared at them.
“Who was it?””
Thomas shook his head.
“We don't have proof.””
“Then why are you here?””
“To give you proof.””
He reached into his jacket one final time.
This time, he removed a small brass key.
He placed it in my palm.
On the key was a number.
*417.*
“What is this?””
“Your father's safe-deposit box.””
I looked at Michael.
He seemed genuinely frightened now.
“Where?””
Thomas said, “First National Bank.””
Daniel's face changed.
“That's impossible.””
“Why?””
“Because that box was closed fourteen years ago.””
Thomas nodded.
“It was.””
I looked down at the key.
“Then how is it still here?””
Thomas met my eyes.
“Because your father never closed it.””
Michael suddenly grabbed my arm.
“We're leaving.””
I pulled away.
“No.””
“Emily, now.””
“Why?””
“Because they found us.””
Thomas turned toward the front windows.
Outside, a black SUV had stopped at the curb.
The headlights stayed on.
No one got out.
Daniel whispered, “How long have they been there?””
Thomas checked his watch.
“Long enough.””
Michael reached into his coat.
This time, I saw the fear in his eyes clearly.
“Thomas.””
“Yes?””
“Does she know what's inside the box?””
Thomas looked at me.
“No.””
“Then you shouldn't have brought her here.””
Thomas gave a sad smile.
“She was always going to find out.””
A car door opened outside.
Then another.
Michael grabbed my hand.
“Run.””
I looked back at Thomas.
“Why?””
He pointed toward the restaurant's rear exit.
“Because the people who burned your father's factory fourteen years ago…”
May you like
He glanced toward the approaching footsteps outside.
“…just came back for you.””
