Chapter 6

“Why was my father afraid of Charles Whitmore?”

Jonathan Reed didn't answer immediately.

He stood beside his office window, looking down at the busy street below. Cars moved through the traffic while people hurried along the pavement, unaware that my entire life had just changed.

When he finally turned around, his expression had grown serious.

“Your father trusted very few people with his business affairs, Elena. Charles was one of them. They built Sterling Group together, but in the months before the accident, their relationship changed.”

I leaned forward.

“Changed how?”

“Alexander began questioning certain payments. Money was leaving the company through accounts he couldn't explain. When he asked Charles about them, he was given answers that didn't satisfy him.”

Jonathan opened a drawer and removed a thin folder.

“These are copies of the records your father managed to keep. Unfortunately, some of the original documents disappeared after his death.”

I took the folder from him.

The first page contained a list of payments. There were dates, account numbers, and amounts so large that I had to read them twice.

I wasn't a businesswoman. I had never attended a board meeting or made a decision worth millions of dollars.

But I knew what it meant when someone kept taking money and hiding where it went.

I looked up at Jonathan.

“Did Charles steal from my father?”

“I can't prove that.”

“Then why didn't anyone investigate him?”

“Because Charles was the man everyone trusted to keep Sterling Group running after your parents died. He had the board's confidence, the company's records, and years of experience on his side.”

“And I had nothing.”

The words came out before I could stop them.

Jonathan's face softened.

“You were a child who had just lost her parents. Your father wanted you protected. He didn't want you dragged into a fight you couldn't understand.”

I looked down at the papers again.

Protected.

That was what everyone had called it.

The Blackwoods took me into their home to protect me. Richard Blackwood treated me like his own daughter. Adrian promised to take care of me.

And I had spent three years trying to save a marriage that had been dead from the beginning.

I closed the folder.

“Did my father know Charles was dangerous?”

“I believe he suspected something. But suspicion isn't proof, Elena. That's why he asked me to keep investigating.”

I signed another question.

What happens now?

“Your twenty-fifth birthday is in three days. Once the transfer takes effect, the controlling shares of Sterling Group will belong to you. Charles will no longer have the same authority over the company.”

Three days.

For twenty-five years, I had been Elena Sterling, the girl who lost everything.

In three days, I would become the woman who owned the company her father had built.

Yet instead of feeling excited, I felt afraid.

“What if he refuses to let go?”

“Then we deal with it legally. You will have rights, and I will make sure they are protected.”

I studied Jonathan's face.

He had known my father. He had seen the company grow. He had also kept this secret for years, waiting until the right time to tell me.

“Why tell me now?” I signed.

“Because your birthday is approaching, and because your father left instructions that I was not to reveal your inheritance before then. But there is something else you should understand.”

He sat across from me.

“Once people learn who you are, some will welcome you. Others will try to control you. A few may even try to frighten you into giving up what belongs to you.”

My fingers tightened around the folder.

I had already spent three years being frightened into silence.

I was finished.

I won't give it up.

Jonathan read my hands and nodded.

“Good. But don't mistake anger for preparation. Before you challenge anyone, we need to know exactly what your father was investigating.”

For the first time since entering his office, I felt as if someone was speaking to me as an adult instead of a helpless girl.

I stood and gathered the papers.

There was one thing I wanted to know before I left.

“Did my father ever say what he found?”

Jonathan hesitated.

“He mentioned a meeting with someone shortly before the accident. I couldn't find a record of it. I don't know who attended, and I don't know what was discussed.”

My stomach tightened.

“Do you think it was Charles?”

“I don't know.”

It was the second time he had said those words.

I was beginning to hate them.

Still, I understood something important. I couldn't accuse a man of destroying my family just because I was afraid he might have done it.

If Charles Whitmore had stolen from Sterling Group, I would find the proof.

If he had done something worse, I would find that too.

And when the time came, I would make sure he could never hide behind my father's name again.

---

Sienna was waiting outside Jonathan's office when I came out.

She took one look at my face and straightened.

“What happened?”

I handed her the folder.

She flipped through the first few pages, her eyes widening as she reached the payment records.

“Are you telling me this man has been running your family's company for years, and your father suspected him of taking money?”

I nodded.

“And nobody thought to tell you?”

I shook my head.

Sienna let out a sharp breath.

“I swear, if that man has been stealing from your family—”

She stopped herself and looked at me.

“Sorry. I'm shouting again.”

Despite everything, a small smile touched my lips.

She squeezed my hand.

“Come on. Let's go home.”

Home.

For the first time in three years, that word didn't mean Adrian's mansion.

It meant the small apartment where Sienna had made space for me without asking what I could give her in return.

It meant a place where I could breathe.

---

That evening, I sat on Sienna's bed while she searched through a cupboard for extra blankets.

My eyes wandered to the corner of the room, where my two bags rested against the wall.

Everything I had taken from the Blackwood mansion fit inside them.

Three years of marriage, reduced to two bags.

I turned away before the thought could hurt me again.

Then I remembered the sketchbook.

I had carried it with me when I left the mansion, tucking it between my clothes so it wouldn't bend. I pulled it from my bag and brushed my fingers over its worn cover.

Inside were dozens of jewelry designs.

Rings, necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. Some were simple. Others were bold, with stones arranged in patterns I had spent hours perfecting.

I had started drawing them years ago, long before I married Adrian.

Whenever the house became too quiet or Adrian failed to come home, I would sit alone and draw until the pain in my chest eased.

It was the one thing I had never allowed him to take from me.

Sienna came back into the room and stopped when she saw the open pages.

“Are these yours?”

I nodded.

She sat beside me, turning a page carefully.

“Elena, these are beautiful.”

I gave her a doubtful look.

“I'm serious.” She pointed to a necklace design. “Look at this. Someone would pay good money for something like this.”

I shook my head.

She frowned. “Why not?”

I pointed to myself, then to the sketchbook.

I'm not a designer.

“You don't have to own a company to start designing jewelry.”

I stared at her.

She pointed at the drawings again.

“You have a talent. Why should it stay hidden in a book?”

I didn't have an answer.

For years, I had measured my worth by how well I could be Adrian's wife. I had tried to be patient, obedient, and understanding. I had swallowed every insult because I believed love meant enduring the difficult parts.

Look where that had brought me.

I turned another page.

Perhaps it was time to build something that belonged to me.

Not because I wanted to make Adrian jealous.

Not because I wanted to prove that I could survive without him.

Because I wanted a life I could look at without wishing I had chosen differently.

I closed the sketchbook and held it against my chest.

For the first time, the future didn't look like an empty room I had been abandoned in.

It looked like a door.

And maybe I could open it myself.

My phone rang.

Jonathan's name appeared on the screen.

I answered immediately.

“Elena, I'm sorry to disturb you,” he said. “But something has come to my attention, and I think you need to know.”

I sat up.

“What is it?”

“Someone requested access to your father's estate records today. The request was made through a person connected to Sterling Group.”

My fingers tightened around the phone.

“Who?”

“I checked the details myself. The request wasn't made under Charles Whitmore's name.”

A cold feeling settled in my stomach.

“Then whose name was it?”

Jonathan went quiet for a moment.

When he spoke again, every word landed like a stone.

“Adrian Blackwood.”

I couldn't move.

My ex-husband had signed the divorce papers without blinking. He had watched me leave his house with nothing and warned me never to come back.

He had made it clear that I meant nothing to him.

So why was he searching through my father's estate records?

Unless—

“Elena,” Jonathan said, interrupting my thoughts. “There's something else.”

I pressed the phone harder against my ear.

“What?”

“The request included a question about the date your inheritance would be transferred.”

My blood ran cold.

Adrian hadn't just been looking into my father's estate.

He wanted to know when I would inherit it.

And my birthday was only three days away.