Chapter 4 - The Night My Mother Died
I do not remember standing.
One second, I was beside the table.
The next, I was across the room with my injured heel screaming and Ethan reaching toward me.
“Don’t touch me.”
He stopped.
“Your father was there?”
“Yes.”
“At the crash?”
“Yes.”
“My mother died in Pennsylvania.”
“Yes.”
“Your family lived in New York.”
“My father drove there to meet her.”
My breathing became shallow.
“You knew.”
“I found out six years ago.”
“You knew when you married me.”
“Yes.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead, my voice came out frighteningly quiet.
“Tell me.”
Ethan looked toward Marcus.
“Give us the room.”
Marcus hesitated.
Then left.
The front door closed.
Ethan remained standing.
“My father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer eight years ago.”
I stared.
“He died seven years ago.”
“Yes.”
“A year before you started investigating me.”
“Yes.”
“Did he confess?”
“Not exactly.”
Ethan walked to the bookshelf and removed a thin black notebook from inside his coat.
“I found this after he died.”
He placed it on the table.
I did not touch it.
“What is it?”
“His private journal.”
“Your billionaire father kept a diary?”
“He kept records.”
Of course he did.
Men like Jonathan Carter probably turned emotions into documentation.
Ethan opened to a marked page.
“October 18, twelve years ago.”
The date my mother died.
My stomach contracted.
“What does it say?”
Ethan read.
“Claire called. She has proof Richard altered the Helix licensing documents. She believes Daniel knows. Meeting at Ridgeway. She refuses to go to police until Olivia is protected.”
I stared.
“Daniel Brooks?”
“Yes.”
“He worked there then?”
“Junior finance director.”
“So Richard and Daniel were involved.”
“Possibly.”
“What is Helix?”
“The original architecture your mother designed.”
“The technology worth billions.”
“Yes.”
I laughed bitterly.
“My mother was murdered over software.”
“We don’t know she was murdered.”
“She called your father with proof, met him, then died on the drive home.”
“Yes.”
“That is not an accident.”
“I agree.”
“Did your father kill her?”
“No.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know he spent the rest of his life trying to find out who did.”
“That doesn’t make him innocent.”
“No.”
The honesty made me angrier.
“What happened at the meeting?”
“I only know what the journal says.”
“Read it.”
Ethan did.
Claire arrived frightened.
She carried a flash drive.
Jonathan told her he would help.
She refused to give him the drive because she no longer trusted anyone connected to the Carter family.
They argued.
She left.
Forty minutes later, her car went through a barrier on a wet mountain road.
The drive was never recovered.
Police ruled the crash accidental.
My father identified her body.
I sat down because my legs stopped working.
“My father knew.”
“I think he knew part of it.”
“He let me believe she died because of rain.”
“He may have been trying to protect you.”
I looked up sharply.
“Do not use that word.”
Ethan flinched.
“Sorry.”
“My entire life is full of men lying to me and calling it protection.”
He said nothing.
That was the moment I realized how tired I was.
Not physically.
Deeply.
I had spent three years trying to deserve a marriage I never understood.
Before that, I had spent years trying to save my father from consequences he created.
Before that, I had spent childhood trying not to make a grieving parent sadder.
When had anyone allowed me to simply live?
“I want to find my father.”
“So do I.”
“No.”
Ethan frowned.
“I want to find him.”
“Olivia—”
“You can come.”
Surprise crossed his face.
“But this is not your investigation anymore.”
He nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
“And no more withholding information.”
“Agreed.”
“If you lie to me again, I’m done.”
His eyes held mine.
“Agreed.”
Marcus traced my father’s call to a motel near Newark.
By the time we arrived, the room was empty.
The bed had not been slept in.
A lamp was broken.
Blood stained one towel in the bathroom.
I stared at it until Ethan blocked my view.
“Don’t.”
“That could be his.”
“Marcus is testing it.”
“My father is seventy-one.”
“I know.”
“He can’t fight anyone.”
“I know.”
Anger rose again.
“You know everything.”
“No.”
For once, Ethan looked helpless.
“I know too much about things that don’t matter and not enough about the things that do.”
I looked at him.
“That almost sounded human.”
He gave me a tired look.
“Don’t tell the board.”
Despite myself, I laughed.
The sound shocked both of us.
Then Marcus called from the parking lot.
“Found something.”
We joined him beside my father’s abandoned car.
The glove compartment had been emptied.
But underneath the passenger seat, Marcus found a small envelope.
My name was written on it.
Olivia.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Inside was a key.
A brass storage key.
And a handwritten note.
I’m sorry I was weak.
Your mother was not.
Storage facility.
Unit 418.
We drove there immediately.
The facility sat near an industrial section of Queens.
Marcus insisted on sweeping the building first.
Unit 418 contained three cardboard boxes.
That was all.
No treasure.
No dramatic vault.
Three boxes covered in dust.
The first held photographs.
The second held legal papers.
The third held letters.
Letters from my mother.
To me.
I sat on the concrete floor and opened the first.
My dearest Olivia,
If you ever read this, then I was not brave enough to tell you everything while I had the chance.
I covered my mouth.
Ethan turned away.
I kept reading.
My mother described Carter Technologies before it became Carter Technologies.
She wrote about Jonathan.
Richard.
The excitement of building something new.
Then the fear.
Richard had manipulated licensing agreements, moving ownership of several inventions into shell companies he controlled.
When my mother objected, she was threatened.
She left.
Years later, she learned the schemes continued.
By then, the company was enormous.
She had evidence.
And she feared what powerful people might do to protect billions of dollars.
Then came the line that changed everything.
If anything happens to me, trust Jonathan’s son.
Not Jonathan.
His son.
Ethan.
I looked up.
He had gone completely still.
“My mother knew you?”
“I was seventeen.”
“She trusted you?”
“I met her twice.”
“You never told me.”
“I didn’t know she remembered me.”
I handed him the letter.
He read the line.
Something broke in his expression.
“Why would she trust a seventeen-year-old?”
Ethan sat beside me on the concrete floor.
“Because I caught Richard destroying files.”
I stared.
“When?”
“The year before she died.”
“You knew he was corrupt.”
“I knew he was hiding something.”
“What did you do?”
“Told my father.”
“And?”
“He confronted Richard.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing we could prove.”
I looked at the boxes.
“My mother thought you were different.”
Ethan’s laugh was bitter.
“She didn’t know me very well.”
“Maybe she did.”
Our eyes met.
For a moment, the years between us felt unbearably close.
Then Marcus entered.
“We have company.”
Ethan stood instantly.
“How many?”
“Three vehicles.”
My heart accelerated.
“Police?”
“No.”
Ethan took my hand.
For the first time, I did not pull away.
“Back exit.”
We ran.
Or Ethan ran.
I limped.
After twenty feet, he swore and lifted me.
“Do not start.”
“Fine.”
Marcus led us through a service corridor as footsteps entered the facility behind us.
Men shouted.
A gunshot cracked.
I froze.
Ethan shoved through a metal door.
Cold air hit my face.
A black SUV waited behind the building.
Marcus fired once toward the doorway.
“Go!”
Ethan pushed me into the vehicle and climbed in.
The SUV accelerated before the doors fully closed.
A bullet struck the rear window.
I screamed.
Ethan pulled me down.
Glass exploded.
He covered my body with his.
For several terrifying seconds, all I could hear was the engine and my own breathing.
Then we turned onto a larger road.
No vehicles followed.
Ethan lifted his head.
“Are you hit?”
“No.”
He checked anyway.
Hands on my shoulders.
My face.
My arms.
“Ethan.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
His breathing was uneven.
That fear again.
The same fear from the kitchen.
I touched his cheek without thinking.
He froze.
“You really thought I was going to die.”
His eyes closed.
“Every day for three years.”
My anger did not disappear.
But it changed shape.
I lowered my hand.
Back at the townhouse, Marcus placed the boxes in a secure room.
We spent the night reading.
At four in the morning, I found the photograph.
My mother.
Jonathan Carter.
Richard.
Daniel Brooks.
And a fifth man.
My father.
All standing inside the original Carter Technologies office.
I stared.
“My father said he never met your family before you came to our apartment.”
Ethan looked over my shoulder.
His expression hardened.
“He lied.”
On the back of the photograph, someone had written a date.
Twenty-nine years ago.
My father had known the Carters before I was born.
Before he married my mother.
Before everything.
Then I noticed something else.
My father was wearing an employee badge.
CARTER SYSTEMS.
Security Division.
I looked at Ethan.
“My father worked for your family.”
“Yes.”
May you like
His face had gone pale.
“And I think I know what he was hired to protect.”
