Chapter 7: The Man Who Was Never Supposed to Return
I didn’t sleep that night.
Not because I was afraid.
Because every time I closed my eyes, I heard the same sentence.
Your father didn’t disappear because he found Victoria.
He disappeared because he found the person controlling her.
The words repeated over and over until sunrise.
By morning, I had filled three pages of my notebook with questions.
Who was controlling Victoria?
What did Thomas discover?
Why was my father involved?
And the question I hated most:
Why me?
I had spent my entire adult life believing my father’s death was a tragedy.
A terrible accident.
Something painful but simple.
Now I was starting to wonder if it had been a lie.
When I returned to Eleanor’s bedroom, Richard was already there.
He looked like he hadn’t slept either.
The confident businessman I had seen when I first entered that house was gone.
In his place was a man searching through the ruins of his own life.
“How is she?”” I asked.
He looked toward his mother.
“She slept for a few hours.””
“That’s good.””
He nodded.
Then his eyes moved to me.
“You found something downstairs.””
It wasn’t a question.
I froze.
“How did you know?””
“Because you’re terrible at hiding when something is wrong.””
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
Almost.
Then I remembered who he was.
The man who had believed I hurt his mother.
The man who had struck me.
The memory was still there.
Richard noticed my expression.
“I know.””
I looked at him.
“What?””
“I know what I did.””
His voice was quiet.
“I know an apology doesn’t fix it.””
No.
It didn’t.
But for the first time, he wasn’t defending himself.
“I was wrong,” he continued.
“I should have asked questions.””
I looked away.
“You should have.””
He nodded.
“I should have.””
That was all.
No excuses.
No explanations.
Just an admission.
Maybe that was the first honest thing Richard had given anyone in years.
“What did you find?”” he asked.
I hesitated.
Then I showed him the note.
His face changed when he read it.
“Daniel.””
I watched him carefully.
“You know my father.””
Richard looked surprised.
“Know him?””
“Yes.””
He looked at the paper again.
“No.””
But there was something in his voice.
A hesitation.
“You recognize the name.””
Richard sat down.
“My father mentioned Daniel Carter.””
My heart stopped.
“When?””
“Years ago.””
“How many years?””
He looked toward the window.
“Before he died.””
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
“Because I didn’t know it was your father.””
That answer made sense.
But it didn’t make me feel better.
“What did Thomas say about him?””
Richard rubbed his forehead.
“He said Daniel was someone he trusted.””
I stared.
“My father had very few people he trusted.””
“That’s what Dad said.””
The room became quiet.
Richard looked at Eleanor.
“She knew, didn’t she?””
I followed his gaze.
“Knew what?””
“That our fathers were connected.””
Before I could answer, Eleanor opened her eyes.
“You’re talking about Daniel.””
Richard stood.
“Mom.””
She looked tired.
But not surprised.
“You found out.””
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
Eleanor closed her eyes.
“Because I was afraid.””
Richard’s frustration returned.
“Everyone keeps saying that.””
His voice cracked.
“Everyone was afraid. Everyone was protecting me. Everyone was hiding things from me.””
Eleanor looked at her son.
“I thought I was protecting you.””
“You were protecting the truth.””
The words hurt her.
But she didn’t argue.
Because they were true.
“I met Daniel before you met Victoria,” Eleanor said.
I felt a chill.
“What?””
Richard looked at me.
“You knew?””
“No.””
Eleanor shook her head.
“Not like you think.””
She took a slow breath.
“Daniel came to see your father.””
“About what?””
“About Victoria.””
Richard went still.
My hands tightened.
“Why?””
Eleanor looked at me.
“Because your father was investigating her.””
The room became silent.
Again.
Always silence.
Always another secret.
“What did he find?”” I asked.
Eleanor looked afraid.
“Daniel believed Victoria had done this before.””
Richard frowned.
“Done what before?””
“Used people.””
The words sounded simple.
But they carried weight.
“She didn’t just marry you because she loved you.””
Richard looked away.
“No.””
The answer came too quickly.
Eleanor noticed.
“You already suspected.””
He didn’t respond.
I looked at him.
“What aren’t you telling us?””
Richard was silent.
Then he stood.
“I need to show you something.””
He walked to the closet.
From a box hidden behind old clothes, he removed a folder.
Victoria’s name was written on the front.
My stomach tightened.
“You had this?””
Richard nodded.
“I found it two months ago.””
“Why?””
“Because I was already suspicious.””
Eleanor looked shocked.
“Richard.””
“I didn’t know what to do.””
He opened the folder.
Inside were printed emails.
Financial records.
Photographs.
“She was hiding money.””
I looked through the papers.
There were transfers.
Different accounts.
Different names.
But one name appeared repeatedly.
A company.
“Who owns this?””
Richard’s face was grim.
“I don’t know.””
I looked closer.
Then stopped.
Because I recognized the address.
Not the company.
The location.
“That building.””
Richard looked at me.
“You know it?””
I nodded slowly.
“My father worked there.””
Everyone went quiet.
Richard leaned closer.
“Are you sure?””
“Yes.””
I remembered being a child.
Waiting outside that building.
My father coming out late at night.
Always tired.
Always saying he was working on something important.
I had forgotten about it.
Until now.
“What was his job?”” Richard asked.
I looked at the papers.
“I thought he was an accountant.””
Richard stared.
“Thought?””
I swallowed.
“That’s what I was told.””
Eleanor whispered:
“He was investigating financial crimes.””
The words hit me.
My father wasn’t just an accountant.
He was looking into something.
Something dangerous.
Richard flipped through the documents faster.
Then stopped.
A photograph fell out.
He picked it up.
His face changed.
“What?””
He handed it to me.
It was a picture of Victoria.
Standing beside another man.
A man I didn’t recognize.
But Richard did.
“No.””
His voice was barely audible.
“Who is he?”” I asked.
Richard didn’t answer.
“Richard?””
He stared at the photograph.
“That’s Andrew.””
“Who is Andrew?””
His face turned pale.
“My uncle.””
The room froze.
Eleanor looked at him.
“Andrew is dead.””
Richard nodded.
“I know.””
“Then why is he in this picture?””
Nobody spoke.
Because there was no explanation.
A dead man.
A secret company.
My father.
Thomas Coleman.
Victoria.
All connected.
Then Richard’s phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
And all the color left his face.
“What?”” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
The call was from the police.
He picked up.
“Hello?””
His expression changed.
“What do you mean?””
A pause.
Then another.
“No.””
He stood completely still.
“No, that’s impossible.””
I stepped closer.
“Richard?””
He slowly lowered the phone.
The fear in his eyes was unmistakable.
“They found Victoria.””
“What happened?””
He looked at me.
“She’s been attacked.””
Eleanor gasped.
Richard continued.
“She’s alive.””
A small sense of relief passed through the room.
Then disappeared.
“Where is she?””
Richard looked toward the front door.
“She’s at the hospital.””
“What did she say?””
Richard swallowed.
The answer came quietly.
“She gave them one name.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Whose?””
Richard looked at me.
Not at Eleanor.
Not at the door.
At me.
“She said the person who attacked her…”
He paused.
“…was your father.””
My blood turned cold.
Because my father had been dead for twelve years.
May you like
And somehow…
he was still destroying lives.
