Chapter 4: The Man Who Wanted Her Father Dead

Arabella couldn't breathe.

The photograph lay between her and Damien, its edges slightly bent beneath his fingers. On the back, four words had been written in black ink.

THE WRONG MAN DIED.

She had seen her father's handwriting countless times throughout her childhood. The message wasn't his. Whoever had written it had used sharp, aggressive strokes, pressing the pen so hard that the marks had nearly pierced the paper.

“I didn't know about that message,” she whispered.

Damien's eyes remained fixed on her.

“Yet you have the photograph.”

“My father left it with a letter.”

“What letter?”

Arabella immediately regretted speaking.

His expression changed.

“There's a letter?”

She looked away.

“Arabella.”

“I'm not discussing this with you.”

He laughed once, without humor.

“You're living in my house, wearing my name, and benefiting from an agreement you signed with me. And you expect me to believe you have no idea what's happening?”

“I expect you to stop accusing me of crimes I didn't commit!”

Her voice cracked.

For a moment, neither spoke.

Arabella forced herself to continue.

“I didn't know your father. I never met him. I was eighteen when mine died, and nobody told me anything about the business. If you want answers, ask the people who worked with our fathers. Stop looking at me like I'm responsible for everything that happened to your family.”

Damien's jaw tightened.

“You're right about one thing. You were eighteen.”

He held up the photograph.

“But your father wasn't dead yet when this was taken.”

Arabella stared at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“Three days after this photograph was taken, my father was found unconscious in his private office. He died in the hospital that evening.”

Her stomach twisted.

“I thought he had a heart attack.”

“That was the official report.”

“Then what do you mean?”

Damien moved toward the window, his reflection appearing against the dark glass.

“My father was healthy. He had no history of serious heart problems. The doctors said the attack was sudden, but the investigation found irregularities in the hours before his death.”

Arabella felt the room tilt.

“Why wasn't there another investigation?”

“Because someone made sure there wouldn't be.”

He turned toward her.

“Evidence disappeared. Witnesses changed their statements. And the man who could have explained everything was your father.”

Arabella shook her head.

“My father would never murder someone.”

“You sound very certain about a man whose business dealings you apparently knew nothing about.”

“Because I knew him!”

“You knew the father who read you bedtime stories and attended your school events. You didn't know the businessman who sat across from mine and watched him lose everything.”

The words hurt because she couldn't completely deny them.

Her father had kept his work separate from their family life. Even during the final months before his death, he had refused to discuss the company's problems.

She had always assumed he was protecting her.

Now she wondered whether he had been hiding something far worse.

Damien placed the photograph on the desk.

“Give me the letter.”

“No.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Arabella, don't test me.”

“It's the only thing my father left me that might explain what happened. I'm not handing it over because you demand it.”

“Then tell me what it says.”

She hesitated.

He noticed.

“You've read it.”

Arabella said nothing.

Damien approached her, stopping close enough that she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze.

“Does it mention my father?”

“Yes.”

“Does it explain his death?”

“I don't know.”

“Then let me read it.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I don't trust you.”

His expression hardened.

“That's unfortunate, considering we're married.”

“Only on paper.”

“Paper can be remarkably powerful, Mrs. Blackwood.”

She hated the way he said her new name.

Like a warning.

Like a promise.

Before she could respond, Damien's phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and something in his face shifted.

“Stay here,” he ordered.

“Don't tell me what to—”

He was already answering.

“What happened?”

A man's voice spoke rapidly on the other end. Arabella couldn't make out every word, but she heard one name clearly.

Bennett.

Damien's expression became murderous.

“Send someone to the hospital. I want every security recording from the building, and I want the police informed.”

He ended the call.

Arabella stepped forward.

“What happened to Mr. Bennett?”

Damien stared at her.

“He was attacked.”

Her blood turned cold.

“What?”

“He was found unconscious outside his office less than an hour ago. Someone struck him from behind.”

Arabella covered her mouth.

“No. I spoke to him this morning.”

“Apparently, you weren't the only person interested in his activities.”

She grabbed her handbag.

“I need to go to the hospital.”

Damien caught her wrist.

“Absolutely not.”

“Let go of me!”

“Someone is attacking people connected to your father's past. You think I'm going to let you walk into a hospital without security?”

“Mr. Bennett could be dying!”

“And if the person who attacked him is waiting for you, you'll be next.”

Arabella struggled against his grip.

“I'm not one of your employees, Damien!”

“No. You're my wife.”

His voice was sharper now.

“And until I know who's threatening you, you're not going anywhere alone.”

She stared at him, furious at his arrogance and frightened by the possibility that he might be right.

Finally, he released her wrist.

“Thomas will take you,” he said. “Two security officers will accompany you.”

“I don't need—”

“Then consider it part of the marriage arrangement.”

She glared at him.

“You're impossible.”

“And you're alive. Let's keep it that way.”

---

Mr. Bennett was conscious when Arabella arrived at the hospital.

A bandage covered the side of his head, and his right arm rested in a sling. He looked exhausted, but his eyes brightened when he saw her.

“Arabella.”

She hurried to his bedside.

“Are you all right? What happened?”

“I was leaving the office when someone approached me from behind. I didn't see his face.”

“Did he take anything?”

Mr. Bennett hesitated.

That hesitation frightened her.

“Sir?”

“The letter.”

Arabella went still.

“What letter?”

“The original document your father left with me. I made a copy for my records years ago. The attacker took it.”

Her mouth went dry.

“You told me you gave me the letter.”

“I did. But I kept another document.”

“What was in it?”

Mr. Bennett glanced toward the door.

Damien stood there, his expression unreadable.

The lawyer's face drained of color.

“You brought him here?”

“He's my husband,” Arabella replied. “He knows about the photograph.”

“Then you need to listen carefully.” Mr. Bennett struggled to sit up. “Your father wasn't the only person who knew what happened to Damien's father.”

Damien stepped closer.

“Who else?”

The lawyer closed his eyes.

“Someone who attended the private meeting that night.”

“Name.”

“I can't.”

Damien's voice turned dangerously quiet.

“You were attacked because you possess information about my father's death. If you know the name of the person responsible, now would be a good time to say it.”

“I can't,” Bennett repeated. “Not without putting Arabella in danger.”

Arabella's heart pounded.

“Why me?”

The lawyer looked at her with an expression that made her feel suddenly very young.

“Because your father made a promise to protect you from the truth.”

“What truth?”

Mr. Bennett reached beneath his pillow and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper.

“I managed to hide this before the attacker found me.”

He handed it to Arabella.

On the paper was a name.

VICTORIA BLACKWOOD.

Damien went completely still.

Arabella looked between them.

“Who is Victoria Blackwood?”

Neither man answered immediately.

Then Damien spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“My father's younger sister.”

He took the paper from Arabella and stared at the name as though it were a weapon pointed at his heart.

“She was the last person to see him alive.”

Mr. Bennett nodded weakly.

“And the person who signed the original investment agreement on behalf of the Blackwood family.”

Damien's fingers tightened around the paper.

“That's impossible. My aunt left the country before the investigation ended.”

“She returned three weeks ago,” Bennett whispered.

Silence fell over the room.

Arabella felt a chill creep down her spine.

Three weeks ago.

Just before Damien had contacted her.

Just before the marriage proposal.

Just before someone began sending threatening messages.

Damien looked at her.

For the first time, his expression held something other than suspicion.

Fear.

“Arabella,” he said slowly, “did anyone contact you before I sent the invitation?”

She thought of the unknown messages, the photograph, and the warning to stop asking questions.

“Yes.”

His face darkened.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because I didn't trust you.”

He looked away, breathing heavily through his nose.

Then his phone vibrated.

A message appeared on the screen.

Damien read it once.

Then again.

His expression turned ice-cold.

“What is it?” Arabella asked.

He showed her the message.

It contained a photograph of the Blackwood mansion taken from the garden.

The image had been captured that evening.

Someone had been watching their home.

Beneath the photograph was a single sentence.

Your wife has six months to discover the truth. After that, she dies.

Arabella's fingers went numb.

She looked up at Damien.

He was no longer looking at her like a temporary wife.

He was looking at her like the one person he might not be able to save.

Then another message arrived.

This time, the sender had included a photograph of a woman standing beside Arabella's father.

The woman was elegant, dark-haired, and unmistakably familiar.

Damien's face went pale.

Because the woman in the photograph was Victoria Blackwood.

And she was holding a newborn baby.

On the back of the photograph, someone had written a final message.

Ask Damien who his real mother was.

Arabella slowly turned toward her husband.

For the first time since signing their contract, she saw genuine terror in his eyes.

And she realized that their marriage wasn't just a business arrangement anymore.

It was the beginning of something neither of them understood.

Something that had already claimed one life.

And might soon claim another.