Chapter fourteen.

CHLOE'S POV

Ask Damian who killed his father.

I read the message again, hoping I had misunderstood it.

But the words remained unchanged.

Across the room, Damian sat on the edge of a hospital bed while a doctor dressed the wound on his hand. The injury wasn't life-threatening, but the sight of his blood had frightened me more than I wanted to admit.

He noticed me staring.

"Chloe, what's wrong?"

I slipped my phone into my handbag.

"Nothing."

His eyes narrowed.

"Don't lie to me."

I hesitated.

Then I walked towards him and showed him the message.

His expression changed.

"Where did this come from?"

"The same person who sent the photograph of Caroline."

He read it silently.

"Ask Damian who killed his father."

He returned my phone.

"Someone is trying to manipulate you."

"Are they?"

"Yes."

I folded my arms.

"Then answer the question."

His jaw tightened.

"What question?"

"Who killed your father?"

He looked away.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Finally, he said, "I don't know."

"That's not what I asked."

"Chloe, my father was murdered. The investigation was closed without identifying the killer. I've told you that."

"Then why would someone send me this message?"

"Because they want you to doubt me."

I studied his face.

"Is there something about your father's death you haven't told me?"

He didn't answer immediately.

That silence frightened me more than the message.

---

DAMIAN'S POV

I hated secrets.

I hated the way they destroyed trust and turned ordinary conversations into interrogations.

Yet there was one thing I had never told Chloe.

On the night my father died, I had received a phone call from him.

I was nineteen.

He sounded frightened, something I had never heard before.

He told me to remain at home and not to open the door for anyone.

I had ignored him.

I wanted to know what was happening, so I left the house and went looking for him.

By the time I arrived at his study, he was already dead.

There was blood on the floor, a broken glass beside his desk and a photograph lying near his hand.

The police found me there.

I had never forgotten the way they looked at me.

For months, I was treated as though I knew more than I was saying.

And perhaps I did.

Because I had found something that night.

Something I had kept hidden for years.

I looked at Chloe.

"I need you to understand that there are parts of that night I haven't discussed with anyone."

Her expression softened slightly.

"Why?"

"Because I was nineteen, and I didn't know who I could trust."

She sat beside me.

"Are you going to tell me?"

I looked at her.

"Yes. But not here."

---

ROURKE MANSION — LATER THAT NIGHT

Margaret was waiting when we returned.

The moment she saw Damian's bandaged hand, she rushed towards him.

"Good heavens! What happened?"

"Nothing serious, Grandma."

"Nothing serious? You're bleeding!"

She turned towards me.

"Chloe, what happened?"

I explained the incident at the Ashford Club and Caroline's disappearance.

Margaret covered her mouth.

"Caroline?"

"Someone took her," Damian replied.

Margaret sank into a chair.

"That poor woman. She must have been terrified."

Damian looked at Ethan.

"Have the police been informed?"

"Yes, sir. They've received the security footage from the club. We're also tracing the number used to contact Miss Summers."

"Good."

Margaret stood.

"I want everyone to be careful. Whoever is behind this has already come too close to our family."

I watched her.

"Margaret, do you know Jonathan Pierce?"

She froze.

Damian noticed immediately.

"Grandma?"

Margaret slowly turned towards us.

"Why are you asking about Jonathan?"

"Caroline said he was working with Victor Hale."

Margaret's expression became troubled.

"Jonathan was Edward's closest friend. They built their business together."

"Do you trust him?" I asked.

She didn't answer.

Instead, she looked at Damian.

"Your father once told me he regretted trusting Jonathan."

Damian stepped forward.

"When?"

"Several months before he died."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I thought it was another business disagreement. I never imagined it would end like this."

Damian's expression hardened.

"Did Father tell you what Jonathan had done?"

Margaret shook her head.

"He only said that Jonathan had become dangerous."

Damian looked towards Ethan.

"Find Jonathan Pierce. I want to know where he is tonight."

---

CHLOE'S BEDROOM — MIDNIGHT

I couldn't sleep.

The day had been exhausting, but my mind refused to rest.

Caroline was missing.

Victor Hale had escaped.

Jonathan Pierce was now connected to the investigation.

And Damian had admitted that he was hiding something about his father's final night.

I opened my notebook.

Under the names I had already written, I added:

Jonathan Pierce.

Then I wrote another question.

What did Damian find beside his father's body?

I stared at it.

How had I known there was something he hadn't told me?

Because his expression had changed when I asked.

I picked up my phone and called Victoria.

She answered sleepily.

"Chloe? Is something wrong?"

"Sorry for calling so late."

"What's happened?"

I explained everything.

When I mentioned Jonathan Pierce, she became more alert.

"That's an important name."

"Do you know him?"

"Not personally. But his company has connections to several businesses involved in the old Rourke investigation."

"Can you investigate him?"

"Yes. I'll start tomorrow."

I hesitated.

"Victoria, I think Damian is hiding something."

"About what?"

"His father's death."

She was quiet for a moment.

"Chloe, remember that you don't have to solve every mystery tonight. Let him explain when he's ready."

"I know."

"Get some rest."

We ended the call.

I placed my phone beside me.

Just as I closed my eyes, a notification appeared.

An email from an unknown sender.

The subject line read:

THE NIGHT EDWARD ROURKE DIED.

My heart began racing.

I opened it.

There was one attachment.

A photograph.

It showed Damian standing outside his father's study on the night Edward died.

I zoomed in.

His shirt was stained with blood.

And in his right hand, he was holding a gun.

---

THE FOLLOWING MORNING

I found Damian in the library.

He was reading a document when I entered.

"Chloe?"

I placed my phone on the table.

"I need you to explain something."

He looked at the photograph.

His expression immediately changed.

"Where did you get this?"

"An email."

He stood slowly.

"Who sent it?"

"I don't know."

He stared at the image.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

Then he pulled out a chair.

"Sit down."

I remained standing.

"Damian, why were you holding a gun on the night your father died?"

He closed his eyes briefly.

"Because I found it beside him."

I stared.

"What?"

"The gun wasn't mine. I found it on the floor when I entered his study."

"Why were your clothes covered in blood?"

He looked at me.

"Because I tried to save him."

The room became painfully quiet.

I slowly sat down.

"Tell me everything."

Damian took a deep breath.

"That night, my father called me. He told me to stay away from the mansion, but I went looking for him. When I entered his study, I found him on the floor."

His voice became strained.

"I checked his pulse. I tried to stop the bleeding. But he was already gone."

I swallowed.

"Did the police know?"

"Yes. They questioned me for hours. The photograph was taken by a security camera before the police arrived."

"Then why wasn't it included in the investigation?"

"Because my lawyers obtained the original footage. The police had already cleared me as a suspect, but the photograph was circulated privately among several investigators."

I looked at the image again.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't want you to see me as someone capable of killing his own father."

I reached across the table.

"Damian, I don't think you killed him."

He looked at my hand.

"But you have questions."

"Of course I do. That's why I'm asking."

He nodded slowly.

Then he stood and walked towards an old cabinet.

He unlocked a drawer and removed a small black box.

"I found this beside my father's desk that night. I never gave it to the police."

My heart skipped.

"Why?"

"Because I was afraid."

He opened the box.

Inside was a silver key and a folded piece of paper.

I picked up the paper.

It contained a handwritten message.

The person you trust most is the one who opened the door.

I looked at Damian.

"Who wrote this?"

"I don't know."

"Did you ever find out what the key opens?"

He shook his head.

"Not until recently."

He removed another document from the box.

It was an old property record.

The address belonged to a private storage facility.

"What's there?" I asked.

"Something my father kept hidden."

I looked at him.

"Why didn't you investigate it earlier?"

"I tried. The facility was sold, and the storage unit was registered under a false name."

I studied the key.

"Perhaps we should try again."

He nodded.

"That's what I intend to do."

---

ROURKE GLOBAL HOLDINGS — AFTERNOON

Ethan entered Damian's office with a laptop.

"Sir, we've found something."

Damian turned.

"What?"

"Jonathan Pierce left the country yesterday evening."

"Where did he go?"

"We're still confirming his destination. However, his private aircraft departed less than an hour after the incident at the Ashford Club."

I looked at Damian.

"Do you think he knows Caroline was taken?"

"I think he knows much more than he's admitting."

Ethan continued.

"There's another issue. We recovered part of the security footage from the club. The person who attacked us was not acting alone."

He played the recording.

A man entered through the rear entrance.

A second figure appeared several minutes later and helped someone leave.

I leaned closer.

"Pause it."

Ethan stopped the footage.

The second figure wore a dark jacket and a cap.

I noticed something on his wrist.

A distinctive bracelet.

My stomach dropped.

I recognised it.

I had seen it on James Thornton.

"Damian..."

He turned towards me.

"What?"

I pointed at the screen.

"I know that bracelet."

"Whose is it?"

I swallowed.

"James Thornton."

Damian's expression darkened.

"Your ex-fiancé?"

I nodded.

But there was something worse.

James wasn't simply connected to Victor Hale.

He had been at the Ashford Club when Caroline disappeared.

And if the footage was genuine, he had helped someone escape.

---

THE UNKNOWN LOCATION

A man sat in a dimly lit room.

Caroline Reed was tied to a chair opposite him.

Her face was bruised, but she was conscious.

"You should have stayed quiet," the man said.

Caroline lifted her head.

"I won't help you."

He placed a photograph on the table.

It showed Edward Rourke.

"Your silence won't save you."

Caroline looked at the photograph.

Then she laughed weakly.

"You still haven't learned, have you?"

The man frowned.

"What?"

"Edward knew the truth before he died."

The man's expression hardened.

Caroline leaned forward as far as her restraints allowed.

"And Damian has the key."

For the first time, the man looked genuinely alarmed.

He immediately reached for his phone.

"Find the storage unit," he ordered. "Before they get there."

He ended the call and turned back towards Caroline.

"You have just made a very serious mistake."

She smiled faintly.

"No. You did, the night you killed Edward."

---

CHLOE'S POV

My phone rang.

It was an unknown number.

I answered cautiously.

"Hello?"

A familiar male voice spoke.

"Hello, Chloe."

My blood ran cold.

James.

"How did you get my number?"

He chuckled.

"That's not important. We need to talk."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"You might want to reconsider. I know what you're investigating."

I glanced towards Damian.

He noticed my expression and motioned for me to put the call on speaker.

James continued.

"You're looking for Isabella Moore, aren't you?"

I didn't respond.

"Well, I know what happened to her."

My heart pounded.

"Where is she?"

James laughed.

"You're asking the wrong question, Chloe."

"What does that mean?"

His voice dropped.

"Ask Damian why his father was meeting your mother on the night he died."

I froze.

Damian's face changed.

"What did you say?" I whispered.

James continued.

"Your mother was the last person Edward Rourke called before he died."

The call suddenly disconnected.

I slowly lowered my phone.

Damian stared at me.

Neither of us spoke.

Then his phone vibrated.

A message appeared from an unknown sender.

It contained a photograph of Eleanor Summers standing outside Edward Rourke's mansion.

The timestamp was dated the night Edward died.

Beneath it were eight words:

Your future wife knows nothing about her mother.

Damian looked at me.

And I realised that the mystery surrounding his father's murder was no longer just about my father, my uncle or Victor Hale.

My mother had been there too.

To be continued...