CHAPTER 14: A CALL FROM MY PAST

The phone rang just as I was beginning to believe my past had finally stopped chasing me.

I was sitting at the desk in my bedroom, trying to read through the information Victoria had sent about the two interior design colleges. For the first time in weeks, I had something to look forward to that had nothing to do with hospital bills, threatening messages, or the secrets buried inside Blackwood International.

Then my phone lit up.

Unknown Number.

I almost ignored it.

Almost.

Something made me answer.

“Hello?”

For a moment, there was only silence. Then a familiar voice whispered my name.

“Amelia?”

My fingers tightened around the phone.

“Jake?”

I hadn't heard that voice in nearly three years.

Jake Miller had been one of my closest friends before life pulled us in different directions. We had worked together at a small café, shared cheap meals, and spent countless evenings talking about our dreams. He had left the city suddenly after his younger sister became ill.

We hadn't spoken since.

“It's really you,” he said. “I've been trying to find you.”

“Jake? How did you get this number?”

“That's not important right now. Are you alone?”

I glanced at the closed bedroom door.

“Yes. Why?”

“I need to ask you something, Amelia. Something about the night at the Blackwood Grand Hotel.”

My stomach tightened.

I stood so quickly that my chair scraped against the floor.

“How do you know about that?”

“I was hoping you would tell me.”

“Jake, what is going on?”

He took a breath.

“Do you remember the man you saw being dragged out of that hotel room?”

My grip tightened.

“Richard Hale?”

There was a pause.

“Yes. That was his name.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I knew someone who worked for him.”

I walked toward the window, lowering my voice.

“Who?”

“Amelia, listen to me. You need to be careful. That hotel incident wasn't an isolated event. It's connected to something that happened years ago.”

A chill moved through me.

“What happened?”

“I can't explain everything over the phone. Not until I know who might be listening.”

I almost laughed, but there was no humor in it.

“You call me after three years, ask about a man who might be dead, and tell me you can't explain?”

“I know how this sounds. But I wouldn't contact you if it wasn't important.”

“Why now?”

“Because someone has started asking questions about you.”

My heart skipped.

“What kind of questions?”

“Where you live. Who you're staying with. Whether you still have something that belonged to Richard.”

My eyes moved toward the old handbag resting inside my wardrobe.

The flash drive.

I swallowed.

“Jake, what do you know?”

“Not enough. But I remember your father.”

The room seemed to tilt.

“My father?”

“Thomas Carter. Before he died, he was involved in something he couldn't get away from.”

I pressed my free hand against the window.

“Don't talk about my father like you knew him.”

“I didn't know him personally. But I saw his name in some old documents. Amelia, your father wasn't just some ordinary employee who received money from Blackwood International.”

My mouth went dry.

The payment Alexander had shown me flashed through my mind.

Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

Three days before my father's death.

“Where did you see those documents?”

“I'll tell you when we meet.”

“No. Tell me now.”

“Not over the phone.”

A sudden sound came from the hallway.

I turned sharply.

Someone was outside my room.

“Jake, I have to go.”

“Wait. Amelia, don't trust—”

The call ended.

I stared at the screen, breathing unevenly.

Then came a knock.

“Amelia?”

Alexander.

I quickly locked my phone and placed it on the desk.

“Come in.”

He opened the door without stepping inside immediately. His grey eyes moved over my face, then to the phone.

“You look frightened.”

“I'm fine.”

“That wasn't what I asked.”

He entered and closed the door behind him.

I turned toward the window again, pretending to look at the gardens.

“Just an old friend.”

“An old friend who makes you look as though you've seen a ghost?”

I said nothing.

Alexander watched me for several seconds.

“Who was it?”

“Someone I used to know.”

“Name?”

“Jake.”

“Jake who?”

“Why does it matter?”

His expression hardened slightly.

“Because someone has been threatening you, Amelia. Someone knows where your family lives, knows about your mother, and has already entered your apartment. If a person from your past suddenly contacts you about the hotel incident, it matters.”

I turned to face him.

“You don't get to interrogate everyone who calls me.”

“No. But I do get to ask questions when the safety of this house and the people inside it are involved.”

“He's an old friend. That's all.”

“Then why did you hide the call?”

“I didn't hide anything.”

His gaze dropped briefly to my phone.

“You lowered your voice, moved away from the door, and ended the call when you heard me approaching.”

I hated that he had noticed every detail.

“Maybe I wanted a private conversation.”

“You have privacy. You also have an agreement with me.”

There it was again.

The contract.

The money.

The rules.

I folded my arms.

“I remember the agreement perfectly. I also remember that I didn't sign away my right to speak to people from my past.”

“I never said you did.”

“Then stop treating me like I'm doing something wrong.”

His jaw tightened.

“Did he mention Richard Hale?”

I froze.

It was only for a second, but Alexander saw it.

“Amelia.”

I looked away.

“Maybe.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing important.”

“Don't lie to me.”

I felt anger rising beneath my fear.

“You've kept things from me since the beginning. You knew my father's name was in those records and didn't tell me until I found the document myself. You expect honesty from me while deciding which truths I deserve to hear.”

Something shifted in his expression.

For a moment, he looked almost uncomfortable.

Then his face became unreadable again.

“This isn't about what you deserve. It's about what could get you killed.”

“And perhaps I'm tired of being protected by people who refuse to tell me the truth.”

Silence settled between us.

Alexander took a step closer.

“Did this man ask you to meet him?”

I hesitated.

That was enough.

“Amelia.”

“He said he wanted to explain something.”

“Where?”

“I didn't agree to meet him.”

“Good. Because you won't meet him alone.”

I shook my head.

“You can't decide that.”

“Watch me.”

His voice was quiet, but there was something dangerous beneath it.

I picked up my phone.

“I need time to think.”

Alexander studied me before finally turning toward the door.

“If he contacts you again, tell me.”

“I'll decide what to do.”

He stopped with his hand on the handle.

“You're making this harder than it needs to be.”

“No,” I replied. “I'm trying to understand why everyone seems to know something about my family except me.”

He didn't answer.

The door closed behind him.

I waited until his footsteps disappeared before opening my messages.

There was a new one from Jake.

Jake: I'm sorry I had to end the call. I think your phone might not be safe.

A second message arrived.

Jake: I found something in an old file belonging to Richard Hale. You need to see it.

My pulse quickened.

Then another message appeared.

It was a photograph.

I opened it.

The image showed a yellowed document with the Blackwood International logo at the top. The date was fifteen years earlier.

Below it was a list of names.

My father's name appeared near the bottom.

THOMAS CARTER SPECIAL PAYMENT RECEIVED: $250,000.

But that wasn't what made my blood run cold.

Beneath his name was another entry.

WITNESS TO THE BLACKWOOD HOTEL INCIDENT — FILE CLOSED.

I zoomed in, struggling to understand the words.

The Blackwood Hotel.

Fifteen years ago.

My eyes moved to the bottom of the document, where a handwritten note had been added.

If Thomas talks, make sure the girl never finds out.

The girl.

I stopped breathing.

A final message appeared.

Jake: Amelia, this is the original file. The hotel incident you witnessed wasn't the first one. Your father was connected to the same secret.

I stared at the photograph, my hands trembling.

Then another notification appeared.

It wasn't from Jake.

It was from an unknown number.

STOP ASKING ABOUT YOUR FATHER. YOU'RE ALREADY LIVING IN THE HOUSE THAT DESTROYED HIM.

I slowly lifted my eyes toward the bedroom door.

Alexander Blackwood was somewhere beyond it.

And for the first time, I wondered whether moving into his mansion had brought me closer to the truth or placed me exactly where the people who killed my father wanted me to be.