Chapter 3: The Letter Emily Never Wanted Me To Read
I stared at the name on the paper until the ink blurred.
My own name.
Nathan.
For several seconds, I couldn’t understand what I was looking at.
My brain searched for another explanation.
Maybe Emily had written it wrong.
Maybe Sarah had misunderstood.
Maybe this was some kind of warning that didn’t mean what I thought it meant.
But the handwriting was hers.
The small curve she always made when writing the letter “N.””
The way she pressed harder on certain words when she was emotional.
I knew my wife’s handwriting better than I knew my own.
And Emily had written my name.
Not Claire’s.
Not some stranger’s.
Mine.
My hands trembled as I unfolded the paper completely.
There were only a few lines.
“Nathan,
If you are reading this, something has happened and I wasn’t able to explain everything myself.
Please don’t trust the person who tells you I was careless.
Please don’t trust the person who says this was an accident.
The truth is closer than you think.
I’m sorry.
— Emily”
I read it again.
Then again.
But the words didn’t become clearer.
They became heavier.
I sat on the floor of my office, surrounded by boxes filled with memories of the woman I had loved.
Her old scarf.
Our wedding photos.
The birthday cards she had saved.
Things I thought belonged to the past.
Now they felt like evidence.
Evidence that I had missed something.
A sound came from the hallway.
I quickly folded the letter and put it inside my pocket.
The office door opened.
“Nathan?””
It was Lily.
She stood there in her pajamas, holding her stuffed rabbit.
Her eyes were tired.
But she wasn’t crying.
That somehow hurt more.
Children shouldn’t learn how to hide fear.
“What are you doing awake?”” I asked.
She looked at the boxes around me.
“Are you looking for Mommy?””
The question almost broke me.
I forced myself to smile.
“Yeah.””
“Did you find something?””
I hesitated.
Then I nodded.
“I think so.””
Lily walked closer.
She looked at the old photographs on the floor.
“Dad?””
“Yeah?””
“Are you angry at Mommy?””
My heart stopped.
“No. Why would I be?””
“Because she left.””
The innocence in her voice was painful.
She wasn’t blaming Emily.
She was trying to understand a loss she was too young to understand.
I pulled her into my arms.
“Your mom didn’t leave us.””
“But she never came back.””
I closed my eyes.
“No. She didn’t.””
Lily was quiet for a moment.
Then she whispered:
“Before Mommy went away, she told me something.””
I pulled back slightly.
“What did she tell you?””
Lily looked toward the hallway.
Like she was afraid someone might hear.
“She said I needed to remember a number.””
“A number?””
She nodded.
“She made me repeat it.””
My heartbeat increased.
“What number?””
“I don’t know.””
“You don’t remember?””
She shook her head.
“I forgot most of it.””
“Most?””
“She said if anything happened, I should tell you.””
I felt a cold wave move through me.
“Lily, why didn’t you tell me this before?””
Her fingers tightened around her stuffed rabbit.
“Because Claire told me Mommy was confused.””
My jaw tightened.
“What else did Claire say?””
Lily looked down.
“She said Mommy was sick.””
“Sick?””
“She said Mommy was scared of things that weren’t real.””
I felt anger rise.
Emily wasn’t perfect.
Nobody was.
But she was not someone who imagined things.
She was smart.
Careful.
The kind of person who checked the door three times before leaving the house.
“Lily,” I said softly, “did Mommy tell you where she put the number?””
She shook her head.
“She said only Daddy would know.””
Only Daddy.
Those words stayed in my mind.
Because Emily knew me.
She knew the things I remembered.
The places that mattered.
The secrets only we shared.
I waited until Lily fell asleep before I returned downstairs.
I needed answers.
Not guesses.
Not memories.
Answers.
I took out my laptop and started searching through old files.
The name Ravenshore Holdings appeared again and again.
Transactions.
Documents.
Hidden accounts.
But the deeper I searched, the more confused I became.
The company wasn’t connected directly to Claire.
At least, not on paper.
It was connected to an investor named Daniel Cross.
I stared at the name.
Daniel.
The name sounded familiar.
Then I remembered.
Emily’s business partner.
Years ago, before we had children, Emily had worked with him on a small financial project.
I barely knew him.
We met only a few times.
He was charming.
Confident.
The type of person who could walk into a room and make everyone believe he belonged there.
I opened another file.
Then I found something that made me sit up.
A transfer.
From Emily’s account.
To Daniel Cross.
Three days before her death.
The amount?
Two million dollars.
I stopped breathing.
Two million dollars.
I immediately checked the date again.
No mistake.
I searched for more.
There were dozens of documents.
But many were missing.
Someone had deleted files.
Someone had cleaned the records.
Someone who knew exactly where to look.
And then I saw something else.
A login history.
A person had accessed my financial records after Emily died.
Not a bank employee.
Not a lawyer.
Someone with my household access.
My blood ran cold.
Because there was only one person who had that password.
Claire.
I closed the laptop.
I didn’t want to believe it.
I needed to be careful.
Suspicion could destroy innocent people.
But then I remembered the hanger.
I remembered Lily’s fear.
And I remembered Emily’s letter.
The next morning, I made an excuse to leave early.
“I have a meeting,” I told Claire.
She looked at me while drinking coffee.
“You never work Saturdays.””
I forced a smile.
“Things change.””
She watched me for a few seconds.
Then she smiled.
A small smile.
A fake one.
“Of course.””
I noticed something.
Her phone was on the counter.
A message appeared.
She picked it up quickly.
Too quickly.
But not before I saw the first line.
“He knows about the account.””
My entire body went still.
She noticed me looking.
“What?””
“Nothing.””
She grabbed the phone.
“Are you okay?””
“Yeah.””
I walked toward the door.
But inside, something had changed.
Because now I knew.
Someone was talking about me.
Someone was worried.
And Claire knew exactly why.
I drove to Emily’s old apartment.
It had been empty for years.
After her death, I couldn’t bring myself to sell it.
Eventually, I stopped visiting.
It became a place frozen in time.
When I unlocked the door, the smell hit me immediately.
Old books.
Dust.
The faint scent of Emily’s perfume.
I stood there for a moment.
Seven years disappeared.
I could almost hear her laughing in the kitchen.
Almost hear her asking me why I never replaced the broken light in the hallway.
I walked inside.
Sarah said Emily hid something here.
Something nobody found.
I searched every room.
Closets.
Drawers.
Cabinets.
Nothing.
Then I remembered something.
Emily had a habit.
Whenever she wanted to keep something important safe, she never hid it somewhere obvious.
She hid it somewhere sentimental.
I walked into the bedroom.
I looked at the old bookshelf.
Our wedding album was still there.
I picked it up.
Behind it was a small wooden box.
My heart started racing.
Inside was a key.
And a photograph.
The photograph showed Emily standing outside a building.
Behind her was a sign.
Ravenshore Holdings.
But that wasn’t what made my blood freeze.
It was the person standing beside her.
A person I recognized.
A person who should never have been there.
Because standing next to my wife, three days before she died, was Claire.
I turned the photograph over.
There was writing on the back.
Emily’s handwriting.
Three words.
“Ask her why.””
My phone suddenly rang.
I looked at the screen.
It was Claire.
I answered but didn’t speak.
For several seconds, there was only silence.
Then her voice came.
“Nathan…”
She sounded different.
Not angry.
Not defensive.
Terrified.
“Where are you?””
I looked at the photograph in my hand.
The picture of my dead wife and the woman I married.
Together.
Keeping a secret from me.
“Why does it matter?””
Claire took a shaky breath.
“Because someone just broke into Emily’s apartment.””
My eyes moved slowly around the room.
The front door was still locked.
The windows were closed.
Nobody was inside.
Then I heard something.
A quiet sound.
From the bedroom.
A floorboard creaking.
I stopped moving.
Claire whispered through the phone:
“Nathan… don’t turn around.””
But it was already too late.
Someone was standing behind me.
May you like
And before I could react, a familiar voice spoke in the darkness.
“You were never supposed to find that picture.””
