CHAPTER 23 — A Warning From Home

The first warning arrived before breakfast.

Isabella woke to a message from an unknown number.

Leave Daniel Mercer alone. You have no idea who you're challenging.

She sat upright in bed.

For several seconds, she stared at the screen, wondering whether it was a bluff. Then another message appeared.

Your father learned that lesson.

Her stomach tightened.

She called the number, but it went straight to voicemail.

Alexander woke when he heard her voice.

“What happened?”

She handed him the phone.

His expression changed as he read the messages.

“We're going to the police.”

“We need to preserve the messages first. Screenshots, the number, the time received. Margaret will want everything documented.”

“Isabella, someone is threatening you.”

“I know.”

“Then we don't treat this like another newspaper story.”

She looked at him.

“I'm not treating it like a story. I'm treating it like evidence.”

He dragged a hand through his hair.

“I'm not going to stand by while someone threatens you.”

“And I'm not going to let fear decide what I do.”

He looked as though he wanted to argue, but he stopped himself.

“All right. We document everything. Then we contact the police.”

Isabella took screenshots and forwarded them to her work email. She also sent copies to Margaret, who immediately called her.

“Are you safe?” her editor asked.

“Yes. I'm in Manchester with Alexander.”

“Have you shared Daniel's location?”

“No.”

“Good. Do not contact the sender again. I'll speak to our legal team, and you should make a formal report.”

Isabella agreed.

After the call, she looked at Alexander.

“They mentioned my father.”

“They want you to believe he was silenced.”

“Or they know something about him that we don't.”

She called her mother.

The conversation began awkwardly. Isabella had avoided discussing her father's departure for years, partly because every mention of his name seemed to create an invisible wall between them.

This time, she did not avoid it.

“Mum, I need to ask you something about Dad.”

Her mother was silent for a moment.

“What about him?”

“Did he ever tell you why he left Westbridge?”

“He said there were problems at work.”

“What kind of problems?”

“He wouldn't explain. He was frightened, Isabella. I could see it in the way he checked the windows and lowered his voice whenever the telephone rang.”

Isabella gripped the phone.

“You never told me that.”

“You were young. I thought I was protecting you.”

“Did he leave because of something he discovered?”

“I don't know everything he discovered. But one night, he told me that people with power could make a lie look like the truth.”

Isabella closed her eyes.

“Did he keep any documents at home?”

A pause followed.

“I kept some of his old papers after we moved. I couldn't bear to throw them away. They're in a box in the cupboard under the stairs.”

“Can you look through them?”

“Of course. But Isabella, you need to be careful.”

“I will.”

Her mother sighed.

“Your father loved you. Whatever you think about the way he left, please remember that.”

The words hurt because Isabella had spent years trying not to remember.

“I'll call you later, Mum.”

After ending the call, she told Alexander what her mother had said.

“We should go back to London,” he replied. “If your mother has documents, they may tell us what happened.”

“First, we need to speak to Daniel again.”

They met him at the café as agreed. Daniel looked exhausted, but he had brought another folder.

“I found something else last night,” he said.

He removed a folded sheet of paper.

It was a handwritten note, faded at the edges.

“Thomas gave me this shortly before he left the club. He said if anything happened to him, I should keep it somewhere safe.”

Isabella read it.

If the review is stopped, follow the approvals. The person signing them is not necessarily the person making the decisions. Look for the original instructions.

“Original instructions,” she repeated.

Daniel nodded.

“I never found them.”

“Where did you keep this?”

“Hidden among my personal papers. When I changed my name, I took only what I could carry.”

Alexander examined the note.

“Do you think Thomas was referring to Richard Vale?”

“I think Vale signed some of the approvals,” Daniel said. “But he wasn't always the person giving orders.”

Isabella photographed the note.

“Did you ever see anyone instructing him?”

Daniel looked at her.

“Yes.”

“Who?”

He hesitated.

“Thomas Bennett.”

Alexander went very still.

“Are you certain?”

“I saw him arguing with Vale about a payment. Bennett told him to approve it and stop asking questions. I couldn't hear every word, but I remember Vale saying the documents were incomplete.”

“Why didn't you tell anyone?”

“I tried. That was when they accused me of stealing records.”

Isabella wrote the statement carefully.

“Would you be willing to give a formal account?”

Daniel's face tightened.

“Not until I know I won't be sent back into hiding.”

“I can't promise you there will be no consequences,” she said honestly. “But we can arrange legal advice and speak to the police about protecting you.”

He considered this.

“Give me a little time.”

When they left the café, Alexander walked beside Isabella without touching her.

“I want to ask you something,” he said.

“Go ahead.”

“Are you prepared for that?”

She stopped walking.

“Alexander, I didn't begin this investigation because of you. I began it because my father was connected to something terrible, and someone may have been hurt trying to expose it.”

“I know.”

“And I'm not going to abandon it because powerful people want me to be afraid.”

He nodded slowly.

“That's one of the things I admire about you.”

She looked at him for a long moment.

“Then trust me to do my job.”

“I will.”

A bus passed, spraying water across the road. They stepped back onto the pavement, and Isabella laughed unexpectedly.

Alexander stared at her.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just realised we've spent the last three days uncovering a scandal, being threatened, and searching for a missing footballer. I haven't even had a proper cup of tea.”

For the first time that morning, Alexander smiled.

“That's easily fixed.”

They found a small café around the corner. He bought her tea, and they sat by the window, sharing a quiet moment in the middle of the chaos.

Neither knew that, back in London, someone had already begun preparing a story of their own.

One designed to destroy Alexander's career and Isabella's credibility before either of them could expose the truth.