Chapter 4 - WHAT MY FATHER HAD BEEN HIDINGDad had never come to my apartment before sunrise.
Actually, Dad rarely came to my apartment at all.
Rachel lived in a gated house.
I rented a two-bedroom unit above a dentist’s office.
My father had always behaved as though crossing my threshold might lower his property value.
Now he stepped inside without waiting for an invitation.
“Lock the door.”
I did.
Chloe was still asleep.
“What’s happening?”
Dad placed a leather folder on my kitchen table.
“Preston’s attorneys found more records overnight.”
“What records?”
“Transactions.”
My stomach tightened.
“Rachel?”
“And Ryan.”
He hesitated.
“And your mother.”
I stared at him.
“No.”
Dad shut his eyes.
“I wish I could say that.”
He explained everything in pieces.
Our parents’ construction business had been struggling for eighteen months.
I knew business had slowed.
I didn’t know they were close to bankruptcy.
Rachel knew.
She had convinced Mom that marrying Preston could solve everything.
Not because Preston would simply write them a check.
Because after the marriage, Rachel expected access to investment capital.
Mom had helped her establish companies.
Signed paperwork.
Introduced her to accountants.
Maybe Mom did not understand the full scheme.
Maybe she did.
Dad wasn’t sure anymore.
“What about you?”
He looked ashamed.
“I knew Rachel was promising money.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No. I didn’t know about the companies.”
I studied him.
For once, I believed him.
Then he gave me the reason he had rushed over.
Someone had accessed Chloe’s school information online during the night.
Her emergency contacts.
Pickup permissions.
My work schedule.
I went cold.
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
“Why would anyone do that?”
Dad looked at me.
“Because the original files may be evidence.”
“The USB?”
He nodded.
“Where is it?”
“With Preston.”
“Good.”
Then his face tightened.
“What?”
“Rachel may not know that.”
A sound came from the hallway.
Chloe appeared wearing dinosaur pajamas.
“Grandpa?”
Dad’s whole expression softened.
For once, he didn’t criticize her hair or tell her to stand straight.
He walked over and hugged her.
She looked surprised.
So did I.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered.
Chloe looked at me over his shoulder.
“For what?”
Dad swallowed.
“For not defending you yesterday.”
That apology mattered.
Not because it erased anything.
But because it was the first time someone in my family admitted they had failed her.
I made coffee.
Then I called the school.
Pickup permissions were frozen.
A password was added.
The principal promised nobody except me would be allowed near Chloe.
At 8:40, Preston called.
His voice sounded exhausted.
“Your dad told you?”
“Yes.”
“There’s more.”
Of course there was.
Rachel and Ryan had apparently used confidential business information Ryan obtained through his position in the Hale family company.
That turned the scandal into a corporate investigation.
Preston believed Rachel had copies of documents proving Ryan had transferred data.
“Emily, did Chloe copy anything besides the videos?”
“I don’t know.”
Chloe was sitting beside me.
I put the phone on speaker.
“Sweetheart?”
She frowned.
“There was a folder called Bluebird.”
Preston stopped breathing for a second.
“What?”
“Bluebird.”
He said something quietly to someone nearby.
Then returned.
“Chloe, did you open it?”
“Yes.”
“What was inside?”
“Lots of spreadsheets.”
“Did you copy them?”
She shook her head.
Then remembered he couldn’t see.
“No.”
Preston sounded relieved.
“But I took pictures.”
Every adult in the kitchen froze.
“With what?”
“My camera.”
She pointed at her pink digital camera sitting on the counter.
I stared at it.
My eight-year-old had unknowingly carried corporate evidence home in a glitter-covered camera case.
Dad sat down.
Preston said, “Do not connect that camera to anything.”
I looked toward the windows.
“Is Chloe in danger?”
Silence.
That was the answer I didn’t want.
“I don’t know,” Preston finally said.
“I’m sending someone from our security team.”
“No.”
“Emily—”
“I don’t want strangers surrounding my daughter.”
“They’re former law enforcement.”
“I don’t care.”
Dad interrupted.
“Let them come.”
I looked at him.
“You show up after years of barely noticing us and suddenly you give orders?”
He accepted that without protest.
“You’re right.”
That took the anger out of me.
He continued quietly.
“But whoever accessed Chloe’s school records knew exactly what to look for.”
I looked at my daughter.
“Fine.”
Two security professionals arrived twenty minutes later.
One was a woman named Dana Ruiz.
Former detective.
Calm voice.
No intimidating suit.
She crouched beside Chloe and complimented her dinosaur pajamas.
Chloe instantly liked her.
Dana examined the camera without opening the files.
Then she sealed it in an evidence pouch.
“Preston’s legal team will make a copy. The original stays with you.”
“Why?”
“Chain of custody.”
I almost laughed at the insanity.
Twenty-four hours earlier, my biggest concern had been whether my sister would make fun of my dress.
Now I was learning about evidence preservation.
Then my phone rang.
Mom.
I didn’t answer.
She called again.
And again.
Then a text arrived.
Please talk to me before you believe your father.
Another followed.
Rachel made mistakes, but this family can still survive if everyone keeps quiet.
I stared at the screen.
Dad read it over my shoulder.
His face changed.
“What?”
He pointed.
“Ask her what she means by everyone.”
I typed:
Everyone who?
The typing bubble appeared immediately.
Stopped.
Appeared.
Stopped again.
Finally:
You know what I mean.
I called.
Mom answered instantly.
“Emily.”
“What did you do?”
She began crying.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it.”
“We were going to lose everything.”
“So Rachel married someone for money?”
“She loved Preston.”
“She was sleeping with his brother.”
“That was a mistake.”
“A mistake is buying the wrong size shoes.”
“Emily, please.”
“Did you access Chloe’s school account?”
“What?”
“Answer me.”
“No.”
The denial came quickly.
Believably.
Then I heard a sound in the background.
A man’s voice.
Not Dad.
Not Ryan.
“Who’s there?”
Mom went silent.
“Mom?”
The line disconnected.
Dana looked at me.
“Call back.”
I did.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Dad grabbed his coat.
“I’m going there.”
Dana stopped him.
“No.”
“That’s my wife.”
“And if somebody is with her, you walking in blind could make things worse.”
Dad glared.
She didn’t move.
Then my phone rang again.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
Nobody spoke.
Then I heard Mom crying.
A man said:
“Mrs. Carter, you have something that belongs to us.”
I gripped the phone.
“What?”
“The camera.”
My blood froze.
“We want the camera.”
I looked at Chloe.
Dana was already signaling for me to keep him talking.
“Who are you?”
The man laughed.
Then said something that turned my father pale.
“Ask Howard what happened to the first accountant.”
The line went dead.
I stared at Dad.
“What accountant?”
His face became gray.
And I knew immediately.
May you like
My father had another secret.
One much older than Rachel’s wedding.
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