Chapter 10: The First Lie

I knew Alexander was hiding something when I heard him say my father's name.

It happened the morning after I heard Evelyn's recording.

I hadn't slept properly. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard the woman's voice repeating her warning.

Don't trust your brother.

And Alexander had been standing in that doorway, looking as though he had seen a ghost.

He hadn't explained anything. He had simply closed the door, told me to return to my room, and warned me never to enter that part of the house again.

Now, at breakfast, he was pretending nothing had happened.

He sat at the far end of the dining table, reading messages on his phone. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his expensive watch rested against his wrist.

I watched him over my coffee.

“Are you going to tell me what that recording was about?”

He didn't look up.

“No.”

I almost laughed.

“At least you're honest about refusing to be honest.”

He placed his phone beside his plate.

“Amelia, we discussed this yesterday.”

“No. You told me to stay away from the room. That's not a discussion.”

“Then consider this another warning.”

I pushed my plate away.

“You know, for someone who offered me half a million dollars to cooperate, you don't seem very interested in letting me understand what I'm cooperating with.”

His eyes settled on mine.

“You agreed to keep certain information confidential. You didn't agree to investigate my family.”

“Maybe I wouldn't feel the need to investigate if you stopped acting like every question was a threat.”

He stood.

“I have a meeting.”

“Of course you do.”

He picked up his phone and walked away.

I watched him leave, my appetite completely gone.

An hour later, I was sitting in the library when his phone rang.

He had left it on the small table near the sitting area while speaking to someone in the hallway.

I wasn't trying to listen.

But his voice changed the moment he answered.

“What happened?”

A pause.

“No. That's impossible.”

I looked up from my book.

His footsteps stopped outside the library.

“Did anyone else see it?”

Another pause.

His voice dropped.

“Keep Sebastian away from it. I don't care what excuse you use.”

I closed my book.

Then I heard something that made my heart beat faster.

“Especially not Amelia. She knows nothing about her father's involvement.”

I froze.

My father's involvement?

Before I could process the words, Alexander ended the call and walked into the library.

His expression was controlled again, but his eyes were unusually sharp.

“Did you need something?” he asked.

I stared at him.

“What did you just say?”

He slipped his phone into his pocket.

“Excuse me?”

“My father's involvement. What does that mean?”

His face didn't change.

“You were listening to my call?”

“I was sitting here reading. You were standing outside speaking loudly enough for the entire house to hear.”

“Then you should have moved.”

I stood.

“Don't do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like I'm the problem because I heard something you didn't want me to hear.”

He walked towards the table and picked up a file.

“Forget what you heard.”

I stared at him.

“That's not how this works.”

“It is when the information concerns matters you don't understand.”

“My father is dead, Alexander. If his name is connected to whatever you're investigating, I have a right to know.”

His hand tightened around the file.

“Your father died years ago. Whatever happened before that has nothing to do with you.”

“How can you know that?”

He looked at me.

For one brief moment, I thought he might answer.

Instead, he said, “Because I know more about this situation than you do.”

I shook my head.

“You keep saying that, but you never tell me anything useful.”

“That's because not every truth is safe to reveal.”

I stepped closer.

“Safe for whom? Me? You? Your company?”

His silence was answer enough.

That afternoon, Alexander announced he was leaving the mansion.

I was sitting in the sitting room when he came downstairs, dressed in a dark suit with his phone in one hand.

“I'm going out,” he said.

I glanced up.

“Where?”

“An appointment.”

“With whom?”

“That's not your concern.”

I put my magazine down.

“Is it connected to my father?”

He stopped near the entrance.

“Stay inside the property. Your security team will be with you if you need anything.”

“Alexander.”

He turned.

“Don't go looking for answers while I'm gone.”

Then he walked out.

I watched through the window as his car passed the gates.

Something about the way he had left bothered me.

He had looked angry, but not with me.

He looked frightened.

Later that evening, I went to the kitchen to get some water.

Mrs. Collins was speaking quietly to one of the security guards near the back entrance.

“I thought he said he was going to the office,” she said.

The guard shook his head.

“Plans changed.”

“Is he meeting them again?”

“I don't know, Mrs. Collins.”

I stopped near the doorway.

“Meeting who?”

Both of them turned.

Mrs. Collins quickly picked up a cloth from the counter.

“Good evening, Miss Carter.”

I looked at the guard.

“Who is Alexander meeting?”

“I'm sorry, miss. I can't discuss Mr. Blackwood's movements.”

I glanced at Mrs. Collins.

“He told me he was going to an appointment. Was that true?”

Her eyes moved away.

“I don't know, Miss Carter.”

I didn't believe her.

But I didn't push.

Instead, I filled a glass with water and returned upstairs.

As I passed the library, I noticed a folder lying on a side table. It had probably been left there by someone from Alexander's office.

I walked past it.

Then I stopped.

My father's surname was printed on the edge.

CARTER HISTORICAL ACCOUNTS REVIEW

My heart began to pound.

I looked down the hallway.

No one was there.

I knew I shouldn't open it.

But my father's name was on it.

I picked up the folder.

Inside were several printed pages showing old financial records from Blackwood International. Most of the details meant little to me, but one page caught my attention.

It contained a list of payments made fifteen years earlier.

At the bottom was a name.

THOMAS CARTER.

My father's name.

Beside it was an amount that made my breath catch.

$250,000.

I read it again.

Then I noticed the date.

The payment had been made just three days before my father died.

My fingers began to shake.

Why had my father received money from Blackwood International?

And why had Alexander never mentioned it?

I heard footsteps.

I quickly placed the pages back into the folder.

Alexander appeared in the doorway moments later.

He had returned.

His tie was loosened, and his expression looked exhausted. But when he saw the folder in my hands, his face changed.

“Put that down.”

I slowly lowered it onto the table.

“Who was Thomas Carter?”

He didn't answer.

“My father received money from your company,” I continued. “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Three days before he died.”

Alexander closed the door behind him.

“Where did you find that?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because that information is part of a confidential investigation.”

I stared at him.

“It's about my father.”

“I know.”

The words hit me harder than I expected.

“You knew?”

He looked away.

“How long have you known?”

“Amelia—”

“How long?”

He rubbed a hand over his jaw.

“Richard was investigating several old transactions. Your father's name appeared in the records.”

“And you didn't think I deserved to know?”

“I was trying to establish whether the records were genuine.”

“That's convenient.”

His eyes hardened.

“Don't mistake an incomplete investigation for a lie.”

I laughed, but there was no humour in it.

“You told me my father's past had nothing to do with me.”

“I said you weren't involved.”

“You said I had nothing to do with it!”

“Because I didn't want you dragged into something dangerous before I knew what it meant.”

I stepped back.

“Do you hear yourself? You keep making decisions about what I should know, what I should see, and who I should speak to. Then you expect me to trust you.”

His expression remained cold, but his hands had curled into fists.

“I am trying to protect you.”

“From what? The truth?”

“From people who will use it against you.”

I looked down at the folder.

“Maybe I made a mistake accepting your offer.”

For the first time, he didn't have an immediate answer.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“I needed help. My mother needed treatment, and Daniel needed somewhere safe. But that doesn't mean you can buy my silence and feed me whatever story you want.”

His gaze held mine.

“You think this is about money?”

“I think you paid me because you wanted control.”

“That's not why I made the offer.”

“Then tell me why my father received a quarter of a million dollars from your company.”

He looked at the document.

“I don't know what that payment was for.”

“Did he work for your father?”

Alexander didn't answer.

“Did he know Richard Hale?”

Still nothing.

I shook my head.

“You keep saying the truth is dangerous. Perhaps the lie is what brought danger to my family in the first place.”

His face darkened.

“Enough.”

“No. I'm tired of being told when to speak and when to stop.”

He stepped closer, his voice low.

“Listen to me. Whatever you think you found, don't draw conclusions from one page.”

“Then show me the rest.”

“I can't.”

I stared at him.

“Won't.”

He said nothing.

I picked up my phone and walked towards the door.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To my room.”

“Amelia—”

“I need to think.”

I reached the doorway before his voice stopped me.

“There is something you need to understand. Your father was not simply a name in an old account.”

I turned slowly.

“What does that mean?”

Alexander's eyes met mine.

“It means someone has been looking for that payment for fifteen years.”

My stomach dropped.

“Who?”

He looked towards the folder.

“Someone who believes your father took something that never belonged to him.”

I stood frozen.

Then my phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

A message appeared on the screen.

Alexander told you about the payment, didn't he?

Another message followed.

Ask him what happened to the money after your father died.

My blood ran cold.

A third message arrived.

And ask why he was the last person your father called.

I slowly lifted my eyes towards Alexander.

He was watching me.

And from the look on his face, I knew he had seen the message.

He hadn't told me the truth.

He had been lying from the beginning.