Chapter seven

I barely slept that night.

The message about Damian's father's former fiancée kept replaying in my mind.

Who was she?

Why had she disappeared before his father's murder?

And why was someone suddenly interested in making sure I knew about her?

By morning, I had made a decision.

I was going to find out everything I could about the woman.

I reached for my phone and called Victoria.

“Good morning, Chloe. Is everything all right?”

“I need your help with something.”

“What is it?”

“I want you to investigate someone for me. A woman who was engaged to Damian Rourke's father.”

There was a pause.

“That's quite specific.”

“I know. I don't have her name yet, but I believe she disappeared shortly before his death.”

“Do you have any other information?”

“Not much. I only know that the police investigated her disappearance.”

Victoria sighed.

“Chloe, this could be complicated. If the case involved a murder investigation, some of the records may be restricted.”

“I'm not asking you to do anything illegal. I just want to know what is publicly available.”

“All right. I'll see what I can find.”

“Thank you.”

After ending the call, I opened my notebook and wrote:

Damian's father's fiancée.

Underneath it, I added:

Missing before murder.

I stared at the words.

My second life was supposed to be about reclaiming my identity and destroying the people who had ruined my first one.

But somehow, I was becoming involved in a mystery that had existed long before I was born.

---

At ten o'clock, I received a message from Damian.

Damian: Are you free this afternoon?

Chloe: Why?

Damian: My grandmother wants to see you.

I smiled.

Chloe: Does she ever get tired of seeing me?

Damian: Apparently not.

Chloe: Should I be worried?

Damian: Only if she starts discussing wedding dresses.

I laughed.

Chloe: Too late. I'm sure she's already selected twenty.

Damian: Thirty-two, according to Ethan.

I shook my head.

His grandmother was clearly determined to make this wedding happen.

Chloe: I'll come.

Damian: I'll send a car.

---

When I arrived at the Rourke residence, Margaret was waiting in the garden.

She wore an elegant cream dress and a wide-brimmed hat. A cup of tea rested beside her.

“Chloe, darling!”

She stood and welcomed me with a warm embrace.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Rourke.”

“Margaret, please. If you're going to marry my grandson, you must stop treating me like a stranger.”

I smiled.

“Then Margaret it is.”

She gestured toward the chair opposite her.

“Sit down. I've been waiting for you.”

I settled into the seat.

“Is Damian around?”

“He's at the office. I deliberately told him not to come.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Because I want to speak with my future granddaughter without that serious-faced grandson of mine interrupting us.”

I laughed.

Margaret poured me some tea.

“So, how are you feeling about the wedding?”

“Excited, I suppose.”

“Only suppose?”

I smiled.

“It's a big decision.”

She nodded.

“Marriage always is. But I must admit, Damian has been different since he met you.”

I looked at her.

“Different how?”

“He smiles more.”

I almost choked on my tea.

“Damian?”

“Yes, Damian. Don't look so surprised.”

I laughed.

“Perhaps you're imagining things.”

Margaret gave me a knowing look.

“Maybe. But I've known that boy since he was born. He doesn't rearrange his schedule for people he doesn't care about.”

I lowered my cup.

I didn't know what to say.

She reached across the table and held my hand.

“Chloe, I hope you understand that you don't have to pretend to be someone else in this family.”

Her words caught me off guard.

“I appreciate that.”

“I mean it. You are welcome here.”

For a moment, I almost forgot that this marriage had started as an arrangement.

Almost.

---

After tea, Margaret invited me inside to look at some old family photographs.

We walked through a hallway lined with portraits of previous generations.

I stopped in front of a large photograph.

It showed a handsome middle-aged man standing beside a beautiful woman in a white dress.

The woman had dark hair and striking eyes.

“Who is she?” I asked.

Margaret turned.

Her expression changed.

“That is my son, Edward, and his fiancée.”

My heartbeat quickened.

Edward Rourke.

Damian's father.

I looked more closely at the woman.

“His fiancée?”

Margaret nodded slowly.

“Her name was Isabella.”

I tried to keep my expression neutral.

“Was?”

Margaret's fingers tightened around the photograph's frame.

“She disappeared.”

I swallowed.

“Before Edward died?”

Margaret looked at me sharply.

“Who told you that?”

I hesitated.

“I heard something about it.”

She studied me for a moment before looking back at the photograph.

“Isabella was a lovely woman. Edward adored her. They were supposed to get married shortly after his birthday.”

“What happened?”

Margaret sighed.

“Nobody knows. One morning, she simply wasn't there. Her belongings were gone, and she never contacted anyone again.”

“Did the police investigate?”

“Of course. But there was no evidence of a crime. Edward refused to believe she had abandoned him.”

I stared at the photograph.

“Did they ever find her?”

Margaret shook her head.

“No.”

I felt a chill run down my spine.

“Do you think she was involved in his death?”

Margaret's face became unreadable.

“I don't know what to think anymore.”

I looked at her.

“Did Edward have enemies?”

She gave a sad smile.

“Darling, my son was a powerful man. He had more enemies than I care to remember.”

Before I could ask another question, a familiar voice interrupted us.

“Grandmother?”

Damian stood at the end of the hallway.

His eyes moved from Margaret to me.

“What are you two discussing?”

Margaret immediately smiled.

“Family history.”

Damian's gaze settled on the photograph in my hands.

His expression hardened.

“Why are you looking at that?”

I carefully returned it to its place.

“Your grandmother was showing me the family portraits.”

He looked at Margaret.

“Is that all?”

Margaret raised an eyebrow.

“Must there be something else?”

Damian didn't answer.

Instead, he turned to me.

“Can I speak with you?”

I nodded.

---

He led me into his study and closed the door.

“What did my grandmother tell you?”

I folded my arms.

“About Isabella?”

His jaw tightened.

“So she mentioned her.”

“Yes.”

He walked toward his desk.

“Why are you asking questions about her?”

I hesitated.

“Because someone sent me a message telling me to ask you about your father's fiancée.”

He turned immediately.

“What?”

I took out my phone and showed him the message.

He read it twice.

“When did you receive this?”

“Last night.”

His expression darkened.

“Why didn't you tell me immediately?”

“I was trying to understand what was happening.”

“Chloe, this isn't a game.”

“I know that.”

He placed my phone on the desk.

“Someone is deliberately bringing up a case that my family has spent years trying to understand.”

“Then perhaps it's time someone found the truth.”

He stared at me.

“You don't know what you're getting involved in.”

I met his gaze.

“Neither do you, apparently. Your father's fiancée disappeared, and nobody knows what happened to her.”

His expression tightened.

“I was nineteen when my father died. I was dealing with the murder investigation and taking responsibility for the company. I didn't have the luxury of chasing every unanswered question.”

I softened slightly.

“I'm not blaming you.”

He looked away.

For a moment, the powerful businessman disappeared, and I saw the son who had lost his father.

“I just want to know who killed him,” he said quietly.

I stepped closer.

“Then let's find out.”

He looked at me.

“Together?”

I nodded.

“Together.”

He studied my face before giving a small nod.

“All right. But we do this carefully.”

“Agreed.”

---

Later that afternoon, Damian asked Ethan to join us.

He placed several printed documents on the desk.

“These are the records we could retrieve from the old investigation,” Ethan explained.

I picked up the first page.

It contained a photograph of Isabella and basic information about her disappearance.

Name: Isabella Moore.

Last confirmed sighting: Four days before Edward Rourke's death.

Investigation status: Unresolved.

I turned the page.

There were statements from people who had worked at the Rourke residence.

One statement caught my attention.

A former driver claimed he had seen Isabella arguing with an unidentified man outside the estate shortly before she disappeared.

“Who was the man?” I asked.

Ethan shook his head.

“He couldn't identify him.”

“Was the argument investigated?”

“Yes, but the witness later changed his statement.”

I looked up.

“Why?”

“He claimed he had been mistaken.”

Damian leaned against his desk.

“Which is why I've never trusted the original investigation.”

I continued reading.

Another document contained a list of phone calls made from the estate during the week Isabella disappeared.

Several numbers had been redacted.

I frowned.

“Why are these names hidden?”

“Some of the information was removed from the public report,” Ethan explained.

“Can we find the original records?”

“Possibly. I'll need to contact the investigator who handled the case.”

Damian nodded.

“Do that.”

Ethan gathered the documents.

“There's one more thing, sir.”

Damian looked at him.

“What?”

“The person who leaked the investigation document contacted one of our journalists this morning.”

My attention sharpened.

“What did they want?”

Ethan hesitated.

“They offered to provide more information about Edward Rourke's murder.”

Damian's face became cold.

“Did the journalist accept?”

“No. He informed our communications department.”

“Find out who contacted him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ethan left.

I looked at Damian.

“Someone is trying to force this case into the public eye.”

“Or distract me from something else.”

“Something like what?”

He looked at the documents.

“That's what I intend to find out.”

---

On my way home, I received a call from Victoria.

“Chloe, I found something.”

I sat up in the car.

“What is it?”

“I found an old newspaper article about Isabella Moore's disappearance.”

“Does it mention anything useful?”

“Yes. She was reported missing four days before Edward Rourke was murdered.”

I closed my eyes briefly.

“That's what Damian told me.”

“But there's something else.”

“What?”

“According to the article, Isabella was last seen entering a private club with a man named Richard Summers.”

My entire body went still.

“Richard Summers?”

“Yes. Is that name familiar?”

I stared at the road ahead.

My father.

My own father had been connected to Damian's father's missing fiancée.

“Victoria, are you certain?”

“I'm reading the article right now. It identifies him as a businessman who had a meeting with Isabella that evening.”

I couldn't speak.

Why had my father never mentioned this?

What connection did he have to Edward Rourke?

And why had someone waited until now to bring it to my attention?

“Chloe? Are you still there?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to investigate further?”

I swallowed.

“Yes. Find out everything you can about that meeting.”

“All right. I'll call you when I have more information.”

The call ended.

I stared at my phone.

My father.

The same man who had spent years making me feel unwanted.

The same man who had favoured Pearl and dismissed my achievements.

What had he been hiding?

---

When I arrived home, I found my father in his study.

The door was slightly open.

I knocked.

“Come in.”

He looked up from his desk.

“Chloe? What do you want?”

I stepped inside and closed the door.

“Who was Isabella Moore?”

His expression changed.

For one brief second, I saw something I had never noticed before.

Fear.

Then it disappeared.

“Where did you hear that name?”

I moved closer.

“Answer my question.”

He stood.

“That's not something you should be concerned about.”

“Why? Because you knew her?”

His face hardened.

“Chloe, I don't know what games you're playing, but I suggest you stop.”

I stared at him.

“Were you involved in her disappearance?”

His hand tightened around the edge of his desk.

“Get out.”

I didn't move.

“Did you know Edward Rourke?”

His expression became furious.

“I said get out!”

I slowly stepped backward.

But before I reached the door, he spoke again.

“And stay away from Damian Rourke.”

I turned.

“Why?”

He looked directly at me.

“Because that family destroys everything it touches.”

My heartbeat quickened.

It was almost exactly what the anonymous sender had written.

I forced myself to remain calm.

“Is that a warning?”

My father didn't answer.

I left his study with more questions than answers.

As I walked upstairs, my phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

I opened the message.

Unknown: Now you understand why you should have stayed away.

A second message followed.

Unknown: Ask your father what happened at the club that night.

I stopped in the hallway.

For the first time since my rebirth, I felt genuinely unsettled.

My father was connected to Isabella Moore.

And someone knew I had discovered it.

I looked toward his study.

Whatever happened years ago, my father was hiding something.

Something serious enough to make him afraid.

I returned to my bedroom and opened my notebook.

Under the names of Pearl, James, Richard, and Eleanor, I wrote a new name.

Isabella Moore.

Then I added another.

Edward Rourke.

My revenge had begun with the people who destroyed my first life.

But now, another mystery was unfolding around me.

And the more I uncovered, the more I realised that my father's secrets might be far more dangerous than I had ever imagined.

Because the man who had betrayed me in my first life might also have played a role in the tragedy that destroyed Damian's family.