CHAPTER 41: THE MESSAGE BEHIND THE THREAT

I read the message again, hoping the words would somehow change.

You have no idea what happened before you entered Alexander's life.

Then the second message appeared in my mind like a warning I couldn't ignore.

Ask him what Clara Bennett was doing the night Evelyn disappeared.

I looked at Alexander, who was still staring at my phone. His expression had changed completely. The man who had been holding my hand moments earlier now looked like someone standing in front of a door he had spent years trying to keep locked.

"Do you know who sent this?" I asked.

He didn't answer immediately.

I took a screenshot and saved it, along with the sender's number. I didn't want the message disappearing before we could establish where it came from. Then I placed my phone on the table.

"Alexander?"

He finally looked at me. "I don't know who sent it."

"But you recognise the situation."

His jaw tightened. "I recognise the name. Clara was connected to my father's business during that period. She also knew Evelyn."

"That's not what I asked. Do you know what happened the night Evelyn disappeared?"

He stood and walked towards the window. Outside, the city was covered in lights, but his attention seemed to be somewhere far away.

"That night was complicated," he said.

"Then explain it."

He turned around. "I was with Evelyn earlier that evening. We argued. She wanted me to help her with something concerning my father and the company. I refused because I thought she was putting herself in danger."

"You told me about that before."

"Yes."

"And Clara?"

"I remember seeing her at the company that week. I don't remember exactly when I last spoke to her."

I studied him. There was something he wasn't saying, although I couldn't tell whether it was because he didn't remember or because he didn't want to.

"Alexander, I need you to understand something. I won't let an unknown person frighten me into believing every accusation. But I also won't ignore a warning just because it makes you uncomfortable."

He walked back towards the sofa.

"I don't want you caught up in something from fifteen years ago."

"I'm already involved. Someone is sending me photographs and messages about your past. Pretending otherwise won't protect me."

He lowered his eyes briefly.

"You're right."

I wasn't expecting that answer, and it softened something inside me.

He sat beside me. "There are people who would prefer certain events to remain buried. My father's death, Evelyn's disappearance, and the financial arrangements made before I took control of the company. Some of those people may still be around."

"Do you think Clara is involved?"

"I don't know. I won't accuse her without evidence."

"Good. Then we find out what happened."

He reached for my hand. "I'll investigate the number and the photograph. But I'll share what I discover with you."

"Not just what you think I can handle."

"Everything relevant."

I held his gaze. "I expect the truth, Alexander. Even if it makes you look bad."

He nodded. "You have my word."

For the next few minutes, we sat quietly. I could feel that he wanted to say more, but I didn't push him. Trust wasn't about forcing someone to speak before they were ready. It was about knowing they wouldn't deliberately mislead you when the truth mattered.

Eventually, Alexander took out his phone.

"I need to make a call."

He stepped into the adjoining study, leaving the door partly open. I could hear his voice, although he kept it low.

"Jonathan, I need you to look into something. An anonymous number has been contacting Amelia. I want the original messages preserved and any available information about the sender checked."

He paused to listen.

"No, don't contact the person. I don't want anyone tipped off. Check whether the number has appeared in previous incidents involving the company."

Another pause.

"And Jonathan? Keep this separate from the Blackwood project selection. Amelia's application must remain independent."

I smiled faintly. Even now, he remembered what mattered to me.

When he returned, his expression was thoughtful.

"Jonathan is checking it. He'll work with the appropriate security and legal people to preserve the evidence. We won't try to access anything we're not authorised to see."

"Did he recognise the number?"

"No. But he remembers something similar."

"What?"

Alexander sat opposite me.

"Several years ago, anonymous messages were sent to senior people inside Blackwood International. They referred to old financial records and events surrounding my father's death. Most were dismissed as attempts to intimidate executives during the company's restructuring."

"Did they ever discover who sent them?"

"No. The messages stopped, and nobody could establish whether they came from one person or several."

I frowned. "And now they're starting again?"

"Possibly."

"Why would someone wait this long?"

Alexander looked at me for a moment. "Because something they believed was finished may not be finished after all."

The words stayed with me.

I thought about Clara's questions at the gallery, the photograph from fifteen years ago, and the message that had arrived after our evening together. Someone was connecting events that I had barely begun to understand.

But I refused to become a frightened spectator in my own life.

"I want to know who is doing this," I said.

"So do I."

"And I want to know why they are watching us."

Alexander's expression hardened. "I'll find out."

I raised an eyebrow.

He corrected himself. "We'll find out."

That small change in his words mattered more than he probably realised.

Later that night, Alexander drove me home himself. There were no security vehicles following us, although he had quietly asked his team to review the arrangements around my mother's home and Daniel's school. He told me what he was doing rather than making decisions behind my back.

At my apartment entrance, he turned off the engine.

"Call me if anything happens," he said.

"I will."

He hesitated before adding, "And Amelia, don't meet Clara alone until we understand why she's interested in you."

"I wasn't planning to."

He gave a small nod.

I leaned across the centre console and kissed his cheek. "Try to sleep tonight."

"I'll try."

I stepped out of the car and watched him drive away before entering the building.

Upstairs, my mother was already asleep. Daniel's bedroom door was closed, and the apartment was quiet. I changed clothes, washed my face, and placed my phone on the bedside table.

I was just beginning to relax when it vibrated.

An unknown number.

The same one.

My heart beat faster, but I opened the message.

There was an attachment.

I tapped it.

The photograph showed Alexander standing outside a large stone building. He looked younger, perhaps twenty years old. His hair was slightly longer, and he wore a dark coat over a white shirt.

Beside him stood Clara Bennett.

She was younger too, but unmistakably the same woman I had met at the gallery. Her hand rested on his arm, and she appeared to be saying something close to his ear.

I enlarged the photograph.

Behind them was a sign above the entrance, partially visible through the shadows.

BLACKWOOD GRAND HOTEL.

I stared at the image.

That hotel.

The same place where Richard Hale had disappeared. The same building connected to so many of the secrets we had spent months uncovering.

I checked the photograph's details, but there was no reliable date attached. It could have been taken fifteen years ago, or close to it. Whoever sent it wanted me to recognise the connection, not necessarily understand the full story.

Then another message arrived.

Ask him what happened to the woman who stood beside him that night.

I sat completely still.

For several seconds, I could hear nothing except the sound of my own breathing.

I wanted to call Alexander, but before I could, another notification appeared.

This time, it wasn't a message.

It was a photograph of the entrance to my apartment building, taken from across the street.

Underneath it were five words.

You are closer than you think.

My blood ran cold.

I immediately locked the door and moved towards the window. I pulled the curtain aside just enough to see the street below.

A dark car was parked opposite the entrance.

Its headlights were off.

And someone was sitting inside.