CHAPTER 8 — THE LETTER MY FATHER NEVER SENT
I didn't sleep that night.
Neither did Vincent.
We sat across from each other in the quiet living room of his penthouse while Chicago glittered below us.
I kept hearing Isabella's voice.
You weren't just a witness.
You were the reason Elias started the entire war.
At three in the morning, I finally asked:
"What did my father know about me?"
Vincent didn't answer.
"Please."
He looked at me.
"I don't know everything."
"That's not good enough."
"I know."
"Then tell me what you know."
He leaned back.
"Your father discovered something about the trust."
"The money?"
"Not exactly."
"The evidence?"
"Closer."
I waited.
"He discovered that the trust wasn't created simply to protect money."
"Then why?"
"To protect information."
"What information?"
"Names."
"Whose names?"
Vincent's eyes darkened.
"People who bought protection."
I stared at him.
"Politicians?"
"Some."
"Judges?"
"Some."
"Police?"
"Some."
"Businessmen?"
"Many."
I felt sick.
"Your father built a record."
"Of everyone involved."
"Yes."
"And Elias wanted it."
"Yes."
"So why did he need me?"
Vincent was silent.
Then he said:
"Because your father didn't trust a computer."
I frowned.
"He trusted you."
"No."
He shook his head.
"He trusted you."
I didn't understand.
"Your father believed the safest hiding place wasn't a bank or server."
He looked at me.
"It was a person who didn't know what she was carrying."
My heart stopped.
"What did he hide?"
Vincent's voice dropped.
"Part of the evidence."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
"Then how do we find it?"
"Your father left clues."
"Where?"
Vincent reached across the table.
He placed an old envelope in front of me.
My name was written on it.
My father's handwriting.
I touched the paper.
"Where did you get this?"
"Your mother."
"She gave it to you?"
"Tonight."
I looked at him.
"Why didn't she give it to me?"
"She was afraid."
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a letter.
The paper was yellowed.
The first sentence nearly broke me.
My little girl,
I stopped reading.
My eyes blurred.
I wiped them.
Then continued.
If you are reading this, then I failed to come home.
My breathing shook.
I need you to know one thing before anything else. I did not leave you. I did not choose another life. I did not stop loving you.
A tear fell onto the page.
Vincent looked away.
I continued.
Your mother will tell you that I died. Let her. She has no choice.
I covered my mouth.
The people looking for me are not interested in me anymore. They are interested in what I hid.
My fingers trembled.
Then came the sentence that changed everything.
And they will eventually believe that what I hid is inside you.
I looked up.
"Inside me?"
Vincent said nothing.
I continued reading.
It isn't money.
It isn't a weapon.
It is a key.
I stared at the words.
A key that can open something they have spent years trying to destroy.
The next paragraph had been written darker, as if my father had pressed the pen into the paper.
Never trust Tyler.
Never trust Vanessa.
And never trust anyone who asks about the blue file.
I looked at Vincent.
"Why didn't you tell me Tyler was in this letter?"
"I didn't know."
I read the final lines.
There is only one person I trust completely.
My heart began pounding.
I already knew the name.
Still, I read it.
Vincent DeLuca.
I looked at him.
He was staring at the floor.
"Why?"
He lifted his eyes.
"Because your father knew what I was willing to do."
"What were you willing to do?"
"Anything."
"For me?"
"For him."
I felt disappointed.
"Only because of a promise?"
Vincent stood.
"At first."
He walked toward the window.
"And later?"
He didn't answer.
I stood.
"Vincent."
He turned.
"Later, it became personal."
The silence between us changed.
I didn't know what to say.
So I looked back at the letter.
There was something else.
A final sentence written underneath my father's signature.
Emily, if Vincent ever tells you that he loves you, believe him.
My breath stopped.
I looked at Vincent.
He hadn't seen that line.
I folded the letter quickly.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
His eyes narrowed.
"You've been crying."
"I'm fine."
"You don't have to lie to me."
I almost laughed.
"That's rich."
He took a step toward me.
"I deserve that."
I looked down.
Then something fell from the envelope.
A tiny metal key.
It landed on the floor.
Vincent picked it up.
There was a number engraved on it.
17.
He stared at it.
"What?"
"I've seen this before."
"Where?"
"Your father's old office."
"Does it still exist?"
"No."
"Then where?"
Vincent thought.
"Storage facility."
I looked at him.
"Can we go?"
"Not tonight."
"Why?"
"Because someone knows we have the letter."
My phone buzzed.
I froze.
Unknown number.
One photograph.
Tyler.
He was sitting in a car.
Beside him was Vanessa.
Behind them stood Elias.
The caption said:
THEY WANT THE KEY.
Then another message arrived.
AND THEY KNOW WHERE YOUR MOTHER HID THE BLUE FILE.
I looked at Vincent.
"Where?"
He took the phone.
His eyes moved across the screen.
Then he looked at my mother.
Because she had just entered the room.
Her face had gone white.
She whispered:
"I know where it is."
Vincent's voice became cold.
"Where?"
My mother looked at me.
Then she said the words that made my entire body freeze.
"I put it in the one place I knew they would never search."
"Where?"
She pointed toward the old photograph sitting on the table.
"With your father's body."
I stared at her.
"My father's body?"
She nodded.
May you like
And for the first time in twenty years, my mother finally admitted:
"We never buried your father."
