Chapter 6: The Truth About My Father
I read the message three times.
Then a fourth.
*Your father was involved.*
The words didn’t make sense.
My father had been dead for six years.
He couldn’t explain anything.
He couldn’t defend himself.
He couldn’t tell me why his name had somehow appeared in the middle of a story I thought belonged only to me.
I stared at my phone.
Another message appeared.
*Please, Emma. You deserve to know.*
I should have ignored him.
That would have been the logical thing.
Jacob had already caused enough damage.
He had returned after seven years and turned my marriage, my family, and my understanding of my own life upside down.
But there was one thing Jacob knew about me.
One thing he had always known.
I could handle pain.
I could handle anger.
But I couldn’t handle unanswered questions.
Especially when they involved my father.
I typed one sentence.
*Where?*
His reply came immediately.
*The old warehouse near the river.*
My stomach tightened.
The old warehouse.
That was where my father used to take me when I was a child.
Not because he worked there.
Because he owned the property.
At least, that was what he told me.
I had not thought about that place in years.
Not until now.
The warehouse looked smaller than I remembered.
When I was a child, the huge metal doors and empty concrete floors made it feel like a secret world.
A place where adults had important conversations.
A place where my father always told me to stay close.
“Never wander around here alone,” he used to say.
I thought he was worried I would get hurt.
Now I wondered what he was really protecting me from.
Jacob stood near the entrance.
The wind pushed against his jacket.
For a moment, I saw the boy I used to love.
Not the man who left.
Not the man who came back.
Just Jacob.
The person who once knew every version of me.
“You came.””
I stopped several feet away.
“You said my father was involved.””
Jacob nodded.
“I knew that would get your attention.””
I felt anger rise.
“You used my father to make me come here?””
“No.””
His expression hardened.
“I told you because it’s the truth.””
“Then start talking.””
Jacob looked toward the warehouse.
“Your father knew my family.””
I frowned.
“What?””
“My father and your father worked together.””
“My father was an accountant.””
Jacob gave a small, sad smile.
“That’s what everyone thought.””
My chest tightened.
“What are you saying?””
“I’m saying your father had a second life.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
“You don’t want to believe it.””
“Because I knew my father.””
“Did you?””
The question hurt.
Because I remembered something.
The last year of my father’s life.
The late-night phone calls.
The locked office.
The way he would suddenly stop talking whenever I entered the room.
I had assumed he was stressed.
I had assumed he was sick.
Maybe I had been wrong.
“What did they do together?””
Jacob reached into his bag.
He pulled out a folder.
Not an envelope.
A folder.
Old.
Worn.
Like it had been carried around for years.
“I found this after my father died.””
I looked at it.
“Your father?””
“Yes.””
“Why would he keep information about mine?””
“Because they were connected.””
Jacob opened the folder.
Inside were documents.
Contracts.
Bank records.
Photographs.
I picked up the first picture.
My father.
Standing beside another man.
A younger Marcus.
My breath caught.
“No.””
Jacob watched my reaction.
“You recognize him.””
I stared at the photo.
Marcus.
Twenty years old.
Standing beside my father.
“Why is he here?””
“That’s what I wanted to know.””
I looked at Jacob.
“You’re lying.””
“Am I?””
I flipped through the documents.
The names blurred.
But one thing kept appearing.
Carter.
Marcus Carter.
My husband’s family.
My father’s company.
Jacob’s family.
All connected.
“How long have you known?””
Jacob looked away.
“About Marcus?””
“Yes.””
“Since before I came back.””
“And you said nothing?””
“I tried.””
“When?””
“Seven years ago.””
The words stopped me.
“What?””
Jacob swallowed.
“Before I left.””
The air felt heavier.
“You’re saying you knew something before you disappeared?””
“Yes.””
“Then why didn’t you tell me?””
His face changed.
A mixture of regret and guilt.
“Because I was afraid.””
I laughed.
“You were afraid?””
“Yes.””
“Everyone is always afraid.””
I looked at him.
“But somehow I’m the only person who never gets to know anything.””
Jacob looked down.
“I found out Marcus’s family was investigating me.””
“Investigating you?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because my father had evidence against them.””
I stared.
“This sounds like a conspiracy.””
“I know.””
“And you expect me to believe this?””
“No.””
His answer surprised me.
“I expect you to look.””
He handed me a document.
I read the top line.
My hands went cold.
It was a private investigation report.
Subject: Jacob Reed.
Requested by: Carter Holdings.
Date: seven years ago.
I looked at Jacob.
“Marcus ordered this?””
“No.””
“Then who?””
Jacob didn’t answer.
I looked back at the page.
Then I saw a signature.
My father’s signature.
I stopped breathing.
“What?””
Jacob watched me.
“Your father hired the investigator.””
The document shook in my hands.
“No.””
“Yes.””
“No.””
I stepped back.
“My father hated secrets.””
Jacob’s expression was sad.
“Sometimes people who hate secrets have the most.””
I drove home without remembering the drive.
The folder sat on the passenger seat.
Every few minutes, I looked at it.
Like it might disappear.
Like I might wake up.
But it stayed.
The proof that my entire life had hidden rooms.
When I arrived, Marcus was waiting.
Outside.
In the driveway.
He looked exhausted.
Like he hadn’t slept.
Like he had been standing there for hours.
I almost kept walking.
Almost.
But then he said:
“Where were you?””
I stopped.
“With Jacob.””
The pain on his face was immediate.
Not anger.
Pain.
“I asked you not to.””
“I know.””
“Why?””
“Because he knew something.””
Marcus went still.
“What?””
I held up the folder.
“About you.””
His expression changed.
And I saw it.
Fear.
Not confusion.
Not surprise.
Fear.
“You found that.””
My heartbeat quickened.
“You know what this is.””
Marcus looked away.
“Emma.””
“No.””
I stepped closer.
“Not this time.””
He closed his eyes.
“I was hoping you would never see it.””
My stomach dropped.
“You knew?””
“Yes.””
The answer came quietly.
“You knew about my father?””
“Yes.””
“You knew about Jacob?””
“Yes.””
“You knew everything?””
“No.””
He looked at me.
“I knew enough.””
I felt tears forming.
“How?””
Marcus sat down on the porch steps.
For the first time, he looked like someone who had been carrying a weight too heavy for too long.
“Your father came to my family when I was twenty.””
“Why?””
“Because he was afraid.””
“Of what?””
Marcus looked at the folder.
“Of the same thing Jacob is afraid of.””
I waited.
But Marcus didn’t continue.
“Marcus.””
He looked up.
“The Carter family wasn’t just connected to your father’s business.””
A pause.
“They were connected to his disappearance.””
My heart stopped.
“What disappearance?””
Marcus’s face changed.
And then he said the one thing I never expected.
“Your father didn’t die in an accident.””
I froze.
The world went silent.
“What?””
Marcus looked away.
“Emma…”
“No.””
My voice shook.
“My father died when his car crashed.””
“That’s what the report said.””
“Because it happened.””
Marcus swallowed.
“Maybe.””
Maybe.
One word.
One impossible word.
I stared at him.
“You’re telling me my father might have been murdered?””
Marcus didn’t answer.
And somehow that was worse.
My phone buzzed.
A new message.
From an unknown number.
I opened it.
My blood turned cold.
It was a photograph.
An old photograph.
My father.
Standing outside the warehouse.
But he wasn’t alone.
Beside him was someone I recognized.
Someone who had been in my life every single day.
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The caption underneath said:
*Ask your husband who really found your father that night.*