[CHAPTER 9]: Emily’s Hidden Letter
For several seconds, I could not understand Michael’s words.
Emily.
My Emily.
The woman I had married at twenty-nine.
The woman who had died suddenly from complications after an emergency surgery.
The mother of my child.
She had known Michael Hale.
“You’re lying.”
Michael didn’t move.
“I wish I were.”
“You disappeared eleven years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Emily died four years ago.”
“Yes.”
“So how could she have been helping you?”
“Before I disappeared.”
I stared.
“You knew my wife before I did?”
“No. Not personally at first.”
He sat slowly.
“Emily worked as a junior associate at the firm handling parts of my father’s estate.”
I remembered.
Before we married, Emily had spent three years in private wealth litigation.
She hated it.
She used to say rich families were proof that money could make people more creative about hurting each other.
I thought it was a joke.
Michael continued.
“She noticed transfers that didn’t make sense.”
“And?”
“She contacted me.”
“When?”
“About six months before the boat fire.”
My chest tightened.
“What did she find?”
“Margaret had been draining trust assets through fake consulting companies.”
“And Victoria?”
“Signed some of the transfers.”
I paced.
“Did Emily go to police?”
“She wanted more evidence.”
“Why didn’t she ever tell me?”
“You hadn’t met yet.”
That stopped me.
Of course.
Emily and I met ten years ago.
Michael had disappeared eleven years ago.
“But after we married?”
“She believed I was dead.”
“So why would Margaret care about her four years ago?”
Michael shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Detective Monroe interrupted.
“We need evidence before connecting Margaret to Emily’s death.”
I turned on her.
“She was at the hospital.”
“We have Victoria saying she was.”
“Why would Victoria lie about that?”
“To destabilize you.”
The answer hit.
Of course.
Victoria knew Emily was the deepest wound in my life.
She could use truth, lies, or both.
“Then verify it.”
“We will.”
Nathan immediately contacted the hospital.
I called Emily’s older brother, Sam.
We had not spoken in months.
He answered with surprise.
“Daniel?”
“I need to ask you something about the night Emily died.”
Silence.
Then his voice softened.
“Okay.”
“Was anyone there from the Hale family?”
“What?”
“Margaret Hale.”
Another silence.
My stomach dropped.
“You know the name.”
“I’ve heard it.”
“From where?”
Sam exhaled.
“Emily.”
I sat.
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“What did she say?”
“That a case from her old firm still bothered her.”
“Did she mention Michael?”
“I think so.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Because it sounded like old work.”
I closed my eyes.
“Was Margaret at the hospital?”
“No.”
Relief came too fast.
Then Sam added, “But someone sent flowers.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Who?”
“There wasn’t a name.”
My relief disappeared.
Sam continued.
“Daniel, what is happening?”
I told him enough to understand why I was asking.
He went quiet.
Then he said, “There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Emily received a package two weeks before she died.”
My hand tightened.
“What package?”
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
“Why?”
“She said it was connected to an old case and that she wished she’d never opened it.”
I stood.
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she keep it?”
“Maybe.”
I thought of the storage boxes I had never opened after Emily died.
Most remained in a climate-controlled unit near Los Angeles.
I had been unable to throw them away.
Victoria once offered to organize them.
I had refused.
Thank God.
Within two hours, Monroe obtained permission to accompany me to the unit.
I unlocked it myself.
Emily’s life waited inside cardboard boxes.
Law books.
College photographs.
Christmas decorations.
A coffee mug reading BILLABLE HOURS BUILD CHARACTER.
I almost laughed when I saw it.
Then grief hit me.
For a moment, I forgot why we were there.
I touched the mug.
“I haven’t opened these since she died.”
Monroe stayed quiet.
We found Emily’s old legal files in the back.
Most were empty because confidential material had been returned to her firm.
One box was labeled PERSONAL.
Inside was a sealed envelope.
My name was written across it.
DANIEL — IF ANYTHING EVER FEELS WRONG.
My hands began shaking.
“This is her handwriting.”
Monroe asked, “Do you want me to open it?”
“No.”
I broke the seal.
Inside were eight pages.
The first was a letter.
Daniel,
This will probably sound paranoid, which is why I have never given it to you. Years ago, before we met, I helped a young man named Michael Hale review suspicious transfers from his family trust.
I stopped breathing.
Michael leaned against a shelf.
I continued reading.
Michael disappeared before we could finish. Police believed he died in a boat fire. I never believed the full story.
Several months ago, I was contacted anonymously.
My pulse accelerated.
The sender knew details only Michael should have known.
I looked at Michael.
“Did you contact her?”
His face went white.
“No.”
I returned to the letter.
The sender warned me not to reopen the Hale matter. I ignored it. Since then, I have noticed the same car near Lily’s daycare twice and outside our home once.
My heart pounded.
At the time, Lily had been an infant.
I have no proof we are in danger. I may simply be frightened because becoming a mother changed how I calculate risk.
Tears blurred the page.
But if anything ever happens to me, do not let anyone connected to Margaret Hale near Lily.
I stopped reading.
My knees weakened.
Victoria had entered my life eleven months after Emily died.
At a hospital foundation fundraiser.
She told me we had never met.
I believed her.
Michael whispered, “Daniel…”
I looked at him.
“Did Victoria know Emily worked on your case?”
“Yes.”
The room spun.
“So when Victoria met me…”
Nobody answered.
I finished the letter.
One final line.
There is a photograph enclosed.
I searched the envelope.
A picture fell onto the floor.
Monroe picked it up.
Her expression changed.
I took it.
The photograph showed Emily leaving a law office years earlier.
Across the street stood a younger Victoria.
Watching her.
I felt something inside me break open.
My marriage had not begun with a chance meeting.
Victoria had known who I was before she introduced herself.
She had known who Emily was.
And she had chosen me anyway.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Victoria.
I SEE YOU FOUND EMILY’S LETTER.
I stared at the screen.
Monroe moved immediately.
“How does she know?”
I looked around the storage unit.
Then at the ceiling.
A tiny red light blinked above us.
May you like
A camera.
She had been watching.
