Chapter 3 - The Secret Her Father Took to the Grave
Claire went home with Grant.
Not because she forgave him.
Because she needed answers.
They sat across from each other in the apartment before sunrise.
Grant placed a black folder on the table.
“I should have told you a long time ago.”
Claire looked at the folder.
“What is it?”
“Something your father gave me.”
“My father gave you this?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
Claire's eyes narrowed.
“That was before he died.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Grant hesitated.
“He knew he was dying.”
“What did he know?”
“That someone was trying to destroy his company.”
Claire stared.
“My father owned a logistics company.”
“Yes.”
“But you said he retired.”
“He did.”
“Then why would someone destroy it?”
“Because of a contract.”
Grant opened the folder.
Inside were financial records.
Payments.
Transfers.
Company names.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Hartwell International.
Claire frowned.
“What is this?”
“A construction consortium.”
“And my father was involved?”
“He discovered they were laundering money through shell companies.”
Claire looked at Grant.
“And Amelia?”
“Her father owns Hartwell.”
Claire's stomach tightened.
“So Amelia's family was involved.”
“Possibly.”
“Why were you in Boston?”
“Because your father had hidden evidence in a Boston storage facility.”
Claire stared.
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“Because the people looking for it were dangerous.”
“And you thought I was safer believing you were cheating on me?”
Grant closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
She laughed bitterly.
“That may be the stupidest thing you've ever said.”
“I know.”
“Did Amelia know?”
“She helped me find the storage facility.”
Claire was silent.
“What happened June 14?”
Grant's expression changed.
“I was at the hospital.”
She looked up sharply.
“What?”
“I was there.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I was alone.”
“I was there.”
“Why didn't I see you?”
“Because I never went upstairs.”
Claire stared.
He continued.
“Someone followed me.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why hide?”
“Because I had the evidence.”
“What evidence?”
“A recording.”
Grant removed a small flash drive.
“Your father recorded a conversation.”
Claire's hands shook.
She took it.
“What did it say?”
“I haven't listened to the entire thing.”
“You haven't?”
“I couldn't.”
“Why?”
“Because your father mentions something about you.”
Claire looked at the drive.
“What?”
Grant's voice dropped.
“He says the company was never meant to belong to him.”
“It was meant to belong to me.”
Claire's heart stopped.
“My father put it in a trust.”
“Yes.”
“In my name?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he believed someone would eventually come for it.”
Claire leaned back.
“So everything I've ever known about my family…”
“Wasn't everything.”
A knock sounded at the door.
Grant stood instantly.
“Stay here.”
He moved toward the entrance.
The building's security system beeped.
Grant looked at the monitor.
Nobody.
Then the screen went black.
He grabbed Claire.
“Down.”
The front window shattered.
Claire screamed.
Grant pushed her behind the kitchen island.
Another shot.
The bullet struck the wall.
“Someone is shooting at us.”
“I know.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
Grant pulled out his phone.
“Daniel.”
He made a call.
“Get security upstairs.”
A voice answered.
“Already moving.”
Grant hung up.
Claire stared at him.
“You carry a gun?”
“Yes.”
“I didn't know.”
“You weren't supposed to.”
“That's becoming a theme.”
He looked at her.
“Claire.”
She shook her head.
“No. After this, you don't get to ask me to trust you.”
“I know.”
Security rushed in.
The attacker was gone.
But they left something behind.
A photograph.
Claire picked it up.
Her father.
Standing beside a young Grant.
Behind them was a building.
She recognized it.
Her childhood home.
On the back, someone had written:
The daughter gets the truth.
The husband gets the blame.
Claire stared.
“What does this mean?”
Grant looked at the photograph.
“I don't know.”
She turned on him.
“Stop saying you don't know.”
“I don't.”
“You've been hiding things for three years.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about the trust.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about my father's investigation.”
“Yes.”
“You knew people were watching me.”
“Yes.”
“And now you're telling me you're innocent?”
Grant's face tightened.
“I never said that.”
The honesty silenced her.
“What did you do?”
“I hid the evidence.”
“Why?”
“To keep you alive.”
She wanted to hate him.
But she couldn't.
Not completely.
Because underneath his arrogance and his terrible decisions was something she had seen only once before.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For her.
Later that morning, Daniel arrived.
He examined the flash drive.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
He looked at Grant.
“You should know who hired the attacker.”
“Who?”
“Someone inside Hartwell.”
Claire asked, “Amelia?”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
He placed a file on the table.
“Her brother.”
Claire recognized the name.
Evan Hart.
He was the man who had publicly accused Grant of manipulating commercial contracts.
But Daniel had more.
“Evan Hart isn't working alone.”
“Who is behind him?”
Daniel looked at Claire.
“Your father's former attorney.”
She froze.
“My father's attorney is dead.”
“He was supposed to be.”
Everyone went silent.
Daniel continued.
“His name appeared on a recent transfer.”
Claire's hands went cold.
“Where?”
“Hong Kong.”
Grant stood.
“That's impossible.”
Daniel looked at him.
“No.”
He placed another document on the table.
“He's been using a different name.”
Grant stared at the page.
Then whispered:
“Michael Mercer.”
Claire looked at him.
“Your brother?”
Grant nodded.
“My brother died when he was sixteen.”
Daniel shook his head.
May you like
“No.”
“He's alive.”
