Chapter 6 - The Woman Who Knew My Father’s Last SecretThe address Richard gave me belonged to a small house on the edge of town.
It wasn’t what I expected.
For some reason, I had imagined the woman from the photograph living somewhere dramatic.
A place that matched the secret I had spent my entire life not knowing.
But the house was ordinary.
A white fence.
A small garden.
A porch with two chairs facing the street.
It looked peaceful.
Almost painfully peaceful.
I sat in my car for nearly ten minutes before getting out.
Ethan sat beside me.
“You don’t have to do this today.”
I looked at the house.
“Yes, I do.”
He studied my face.
“You’re hoping she can give you answers.”
“I need answers.”
“I know.”
I turned to him.
“But I’m also scared.”
Ethan nodded.
“That makes sense.”
“What if she tells me something that changes how I remember him?”
He reached over and held my hand.
“Natalie, your father’s love for you is not something another person can erase.”
I looked down at our hands.
That was exactly what I was afraid of.
Not learning something bad about my father.
Losing the version of him I had carried with me for years.
But I knew I couldn’t keep living inside a story someone else had written.
Especially not my mother.
I stepped out of the car.
Every step toward the front door felt heavier than the last.
When I knocked, I heard movement inside.
A few seconds later, the door opened.
And I immediately knew.
She was the woman from the photograph.
Older now.
Her dark hair had streaks of silver.
Her face had changed with time.
But her eyes were the same.
The same eyes looking back at me from a picture my mother had hidden.
She stared at me.
Not surprised.
Not confused.
Almost like she had been waiting.
“Natalie?”
Hearing my name from a stranger made my skin crawl.
“How do you know who I am?”
Her expression softened.
“Because you look exactly like him.”
My breath caught.
I hated how much those words affected me.
Because everyone who mentioned my father seemed to reach a place inside me I couldn’t protect.
“I’m Emily Foster.”
I nodded slowly.
“I know.”
She looked past me.
At Ethan.
Then back at me.
“Richard told you.”
“Yes.”
She stepped aside.
“Come in.”
The house smelled like coffee and old books.
There were photographs on the walls.
Paintings.
Plants near the windows.
A normal life.
A life my father had apparently known about.
I sat on the couch while Emily prepared tea.
My hands were shaking slightly.
She noticed.
“You have questions.”
I almost laughed.
“Where do I even start?”
She sat across from me.
“Start with the one you’re afraid to ask.”
I looked at her.
“Who were you to my father?”
Emily was quiet.
Then she answered.
“I was his friend.”
The answer surprised me.
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“But my mother thought…”
Emily looked down.
“Your mother believed what she wanted to believe.”
I studied her.
“Were you and my father having an affair?”
The question felt cruel the moment it left my mouth.
But I needed the truth.
Emily didn’t get angry.
She didn’t look offended.
She simply nodded sadly.
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
Confidently.
“We were not together.”
“Then why did my mother hide this photo?”
Emily looked toward the window.
“Because your mother knew your father trusted me.”
“Why?”
“Because I helped him.”
“With what?”
Emily folded her hands.
“With understanding that he was allowed to want a different life.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
She took a breath.
“Your father spent years believing he had failed your mother.”
That surprised me.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he thought love meant staying, no matter how much pain was involved.”
I looked away.
That sounded familiar.
Too familiar.
“Like me,” I whispered.
Emily looked at me.
“Exactly like you.”
The room went quiet.
She continued.
“Your father told me about you.”
I looked up.
“What did he say?”
A small smile appeared on her face.
“He said you were the kindest person he knew.”
My eyes burned.
“He said you noticed when people were hurting before they even admitted it themselves.”
I looked down.
“He also said it worried him.”
“Why?”
“Because he was afraid you would spend your whole life saving people who never tried to save themselves.”
The words hit me harder than I expected.
Because they were true.
Too true.
I swallowed.
“What happened before he died?”
Emily’s expression changed.
The sadness deepened.
“That night changed everything.”
“What night?”
“The night before the accident.”
I leaned forward.
“Richard told me to ask you about it.”
Emily nodded.
“Your father came to see me.”
“Why?”
“He needed somewhere to think.”
“About my mother?”
“Yes.”
I waited.
“He had already decided.”
My heart beat faster.
“Decided what?”
“To leave.”
I looked down.
I knew this.
But hearing it from someone who had been there felt different.
“He was going to divorce her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Emily looked at me carefully.
“Because he discovered things he could no longer ignore.”
“What things?”
She hesitated.
“Financial manipulation.”
My stomach tightened.
“By my mother?”
“Yes.”
“What exactly did she do?”
Emily looked uncomfortable.
“Your father found out that your mother had been moving money from accounts without telling him.”
My chest tightened.
“How much?”
“I don’t know the exact amount.”
“But enough?”
“Yes.”
I thought about Richard’s words.
The debt.
The inheritance.
The pressure.
Everything connected.
“What did he plan to do?”
Emily looked toward the hallway.
“He planned to separate finances completely. He wanted to make sure you were protected.”
“Because of me?”
“Because he knew what would happen.”
“What?”
“He knew your mother would eventually come to you.”
I froze.
“He knew?”
Emily nodded.
“He said, ‘If anything happens to me, she’ll make Natalie feel responsible.’”
The sentence made my eyes sting.
Because my father knew me.
And he knew my mother.
He knew exactly how the guilt would work.
“What happened after he left your house that night?”
Emily’s face changed.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
“But you were the last person he saw?”
She looked down.
“No.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“There was someone else.”
My heart started pounding.
“Who?”
Emily looked at me.
“Your mother.”
The room suddenly felt too small.
“My mother was there?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“After your father left.”
I stood up.
“What are you saying?”
Emily looked frightened.
“I’m saying your mother knew he was planning to leave before the accident happened.”
I stared at her.
“Did she threaten him?”
Emily didn’t answer.
And somehow, that silence was worse.
“Emily.”
She took a deep breath.
“I don’t know what happened between them after I left. I never saw your father again.”
“Then why do you look like you’re hiding something?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Because I should have told you years ago.”
“Told me what?”
Emily walked to a drawer and pulled out a small envelope.
She held it tightly.
“I found this after your father died.”
My breath stopped.
“What is it?”
“A letter.”
“To me?”
Emily shook her head.
“No.”
She looked at the envelope.
“Your father wrote it to you.”
My heart froze.
Another letter.
Another piece of him.
Another secret.
“Why didn’t I get it?”
Emily looked at me with pain in her eyes.
“Because your mother took it.”
The room went silent.
My mother.
Again.
Always my mother.
I reached for the envelope.
But Emily didn’t let go immediately.
“Natalie.”
“Yes?”
“There is something you need to understand before you read this.”
“What?”
She looked at me.
“Your father didn’t die because he was running away from your family.”
I waited.
“He died trying to protect you from what your mother was about to do.”
I pulled my hand back.
“What does that mean?”
Emily finally released the envelope.
And on the front, written in my father’s handwriting, were six words.
For Natalie. If I don’t return.
My entire body went cold.
May you like
Because suddenly, I wasn’t just looking for the truth about my father.
I was looking for the truth about the night I lost him.
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