Chapter 4: The Truth About My Father
The silence after the call was worse than the voice itself.
I stood there with my phone still pressed against my ear, staring at Adrian.
My fingers felt numb.
My heartbeat felt too loud.
“Claire?””
I lowered the phone slowly.
He already knew.
That was the part that terrified me most.
Not the stranger’s warning.
Not the mention of my father.
Not even the fact that someone had been watching us.
It was the look on Adrian’s face.
The look of a man who had just watched a secret he buried years ago crawl back into the light.
“Who was that?”” he asked.
I laughed once.
A cold, humorless sound.
“You tell me.””
His expression tightened.
“Claire.””
“No.””
I held up my hand.
“Don’t do that.””
“Do what?””
“Say my name like you’re trying to calm me down.””
His face fell slightly.
“Because it works?””
“Because it used to.””
The words hurt both of us.
I walked toward the kitchen, needing space, needing air.
But the apartment felt smaller than it ever had.
Every wall felt like it was holding a secret.
Every piece of furniture felt like it had heard conversations I never knew existed.
“My father,” I said quietly.
Adrian followed but kept his distance.
“What about him?””
I turned around.
“You tell me.””
His eyes dropped.
And that was my answer.
“You knew.””
“Claire—”
“You knew something about my father.””
He didn’t deny it.
The anger that rose inside me was almost dizzying.
“How long?””
Adrian stayed silent.
“How long have you known?””
“Since before we got married.””
The room went still.
I stared at him.
“Before we got married?””
“Yes.””
A thousand memories crashed into each other.
Our first date.
Our wedding.
The night he promised he would never lie to me.
All of it.
“You knew something about my family, and you married me anyway?””
His expression changed.
“No. I married you because of you.””
“That doesn’t answer the question.””
“I didn’t know everything.””
“But you knew enough.””
“Yes.””
I looked away.
I felt betrayed all over again.
Not because there was a secret.
But because once again, Adrian had decided I couldn’t handle the truth.
“Tell me.””
He didn’t move.
“Claire.””
“Tell me.””
His jaw tightened.
Then he walked toward the dining table and sat down.
For the first time, he looked tired.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Like carrying this secret had aged him.
“Your father wasn’t the man you thought he was.””
I immediately stiffened.
“Don’t.””
“What?””
“Don’t stand there and rewrite my entire childhood.””
“I’m not.””
“You don’t get to talk about him like that.””
Adrian looked at me.
“I know you loved him.””
The softness in his voice made me pause.
“He was my father.””
“I know.””
“He raised me.””
“I know.””
“He was the person who taught me how to ride a bike, how to drive, how to believe people could be good.””
Adrian nodded.
“I know.””
“Then don’t tell me he wasn’t who I thought.””
He looked down.
“Your father was both.””
I frowned.
“What?””
“He was the man who loved you.””
A pause.
“And he was also a man who made dangerous decisions.””
I felt my chest tighten.
“What kind of decisions?””
Adrian didn’t answer immediately.
That terrified me more than anything.
“He was involved with Marcus Vale.””
My blood ran cold.
“Marcus?””
“Yes.””
“The man who threatened me?””
Adrian nodded.
“They weren’t just business partners.””
“Then what were they?””
He looked at me.
“They were friends.””
The answer felt almost too simple.
“Friends?””
“Yes.””
“Then why would Marcus want to hurt me?””
Adrian leaned forward.
“Because your father left something behind.””
“What?””
“I don’t know.””
I stared.
“You don’t know?””
“No.””
“But you said—”
“I said Marcus knows something about your father.””
“Not what.””
“No.””
I shook my head.
This was impossible.
I was standing in my apartment with my ex-husband, who had secretly protected me by destroying our marriage, and now I was learning my dead father had been connected to the man trying to ruin our lives.
It sounded like a nightmare.
Except I wasn’t waking up.
“What did my father leave behind?””
Adrian looked at the envelope.
The one with my name.
The one carrying a message from someone who wanted me afraid.
“I think that’s what they want you to find out.””
I looked at him.
“They?””
His face darkened.
“There’s more than one person involved.””
I crossed my arms.
“Convenient.””
“What?””
“Every time I ask a question, you give me half an answer.””
“I’m trying to keep you safe.””
“No.””
My voice rose.
“You’re trying to control the situation.””
He froze.
Because he knew I was right.
“I spent months believing I lost you because I wasn’t enough,” I said.
“Now I find out you were carrying some secret war around me, and you still think keeping me in the dark is protecting me?””
His eyes softened.
“No.””
“Then what?””
He stood.
“Then maybe I was wrong.””
The admission surprised me.
Adrian stepped closer.
“I spent my whole life believing that if I could control every variable, I could prevent people from getting hurt.””
His voice lowered.
“But you were never a variable.””
I didn’t speak.
“You were my wife.””
The past tense hurt.
He noticed.
His expression changed.
“Are.””
I looked at him.
“What?””
“You are my wife.””
I almost laughed.
“We’re divorced.””
His face tightened.
“On paper.””
“Adrian.””
“No.””
He shook his head.
“I know what the papers say.””
“Then stop pretending.””
“I’m not pretending.””
The intensity in his voice made me quiet.
“I never accepted it.””
The room went silent.
“You signed them.””
“Yes.””
“Then how could you not accept it?””
“Because signing a piece of paper doesn’t change what I feel.””
I looked away.
Because I didn’t know what to do with that.
I wanted to believe him.
And that scared me.
Before I could respond, a noise came from the bedroom.
A small sound.
Like something falling.
Both of us froze.
Adrian immediately turned.
“Stay here.””
I grabbed his arm.
“No.””
“Claire.””
“I’m coming.””
His eyes searched mine.
Then he nodded.
Together, we walked toward the bedroom.
The door was slightly open.
Adrian reached for the handle.
Slowly.
Carefully.
He pushed it open.
The room was empty.
But something was different.
The closet door was open.
My old boxes had been moved.
“What happened?”” I whispered.
Adrian walked inside.
Then stopped.
I followed his gaze.
On the floor was a photograph.
An old one.
A picture of my father.
And beside him…
A younger Adrian.
My breath caught.
“What?””
Adrian didn’t answer.
Because I picked up the photograph before he could.
The image was faded.
My father was standing beside a group of men.
One of them was Marcus Vale.
And another was Adrian.
But Adrian looked much younger.
Maybe twenty years old.
I turned the picture over.
There was writing on the back.
Three words.
Three words that made Adrian’s face lose all color.
*“Protect my daughter.””*
I looked at him.
“What does this mean?””
He didn’t respond.
“Adrian.””
His eyes stayed on the photograph.
Then he whispered:
“Your father asked me to watch over you.””
My heart stopped.
“Before he died.””
I stared at him.
“You knew my father?””
He looked at me.
And for the first time, I saw the truth he had been hiding.
Not just fear.
Not just guilt.
Regret.
“I knew him.””
A pause.
“He made me promise something.””
“What?””
Adrian looked toward the door.
Like he was afraid someone might hear.
Then he said:
“He made me promise I would never let you discover why he really died.””
My hands went cold.
“My father died in an accident.””
Adrian said nothing.
And that silence destroyed me.
Because suddenly, I knew.
The accident wasn’t an accident.
“Adrian…”
His phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
“What?””
I watched his face turn pale.
“Who is it?””
He didn’t answer.
Then he slowly handed me the phone.
On the screen was a message.
A single sentence.
May you like
From an unknown number.
*“Ask Adrian who was in the car when your father died.””*
