Chapter eight

My father's frightened expression kept replaying in my mind. Richard Summers was a man who rarely showed weakness. Even when Mother challenged him, he remained composed. Yet the moment I mentioned Isabella Moore, something inside him had cracked.

He knew her.

The question was whether he had simply known her or had played a part in her disappearance.

I sat at my desk, staring at the names written in my notebook.

Isabella Moore. Edward Rourke. Richard Summers.

Three names connected by a tragedy that had remained unsolved for years.

My phone vibrated.

It was a message from Victoria.

I found something else. We need to speak in person.

I immediately called her.

"Can you tell me what you found?"

"I'd rather show you the documents," she replied. "But Chloe, I think you should be careful. Someone has been asking questions about your father."

My grip tightened around the phone.

"Who?"

"I don't know yet. The person used an anonymous email address. However, the questions were very specific. They wanted to know whether Richard Summers had ever been questioned about Isabella Moore."

My heart skipped.

"Was he?"

"According to the newspaper records, he was interviewed briefly after Isabella disappeared. There is no official statement from him in the police summary."

"Why?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out."

I closed my eyes.

"Send me the address. I'll meet you."

After ending the call, I stood and walked to the window.

My father had warned me to stay away from Damian's family. Perhaps he wasn't concerned about my happiness. Perhaps he was afraid I would discover something he had spent years hiding.

---

SUMMERS ESTATE

Breakfast was unusually quiet.

Mother sat at the dining table scrolling through her phone while Pearl discussed an upcoming charity event.

Father had barely touched his food.

I watched him carefully.

"Father, we need to talk."

His spoon stopped halfway to his mouth.

"About what?"

"Isabella Moore."

Mother looked up.

Pearl's attention shifted between us.

Father placed his spoon down.

"Chloe, I already told you to stay away from that matter."

"And I asked you a question yesterday. You didn't answer."

"There is nothing to answer."

"Then why were you frightened when I mentioned her name?"

His expression hardened.

"Watch your tone."

I almost laughed.

It was always the same response whenever I asked something he didn't want to discuss.

Pearl leaned forward.

"Who is Isabella Moore?"

"Someone connected to the Rourke family," I answered without taking my eyes off Father.

Mother frowned.

"Why are you involving yourself in the Rourkes' family affairs?"

"Because I'm marrying Damian."

"That doesn't mean you should investigate every unpleasant thing about his family," she snapped.

I turned towards her.

"Would you prefer that I marry into a family without knowing the truth about its past?"

"You're making this more complicated than it needs to be."

Father suddenly stood.

"Enough. Chloe, I forbid you from digging into this matter."

I slowly rose from my chair.

"You can forbid me from entering your study. You can forbid me from using your money. But you cannot decide what I do with my life."

His jaw tightened.

"You're making a terrible mistake."

"Then tell me what happened."

For several seconds, he said nothing.

Then he looked at me with an expression I couldn't understand.

"Some truths are better left buried."

I stared at him.

"Only people who have something to hide say that."

I walked away before he could respond.

Behind me, I heard Mother whisper something to Pearl.

I didn't turn around.

---

VICTORIA'S OFFICE

Victoria had arranged several documents across her desk when I arrived.

She pushed a folder towards me.

"These are copies of the available newspaper reports, police summaries and business records."

I opened the folder.

The first document contained a photograph of Isabella Moore. She was a beautiful woman with long dark hair and a gentle smile.

Beneath the photograph was a headline:

BUSINESSMAN'S FIANCÉE VANISHES BEFORE HIGH-PROFILE WEDDING.

I turned the page.

"Look at this," Victoria said, pointing to a paragraph.

According to the report, Isabella had attended a private meeting at the Ashford Club on the evening she disappeared. Richard Summers had been identified as one of the businessmen present at the venue.

"Was he the man she argued with?" I asked.

"That's unclear. The witness statement mentioned an unidentified man. However, the club's guest records show your father was there."

I stared at the document.

"Did the police question him?"

"Apparently, yes. But his interview wasn't included in the publicly available investigation summary."

"Can we get the original records?"

"Not easily. The investigation was closed, and some documents are restricted. I'm trying to establish whether a formal request can be made."

I flipped through another page.

There was a photograph of the Ashford Club taken from outside. A timestamp showed the evening Isabella was last seen.

"Can we get the security footage?"

Victoria shook her head.

"The club claims its old recordings were destroyed after their retention period. But I'm not convinced."

I looked up.

"Why?"

"Because I contacted someone who used to work there. He remembered a disturbance that night. He also said management received instructions to remove certain names from the guest records."

My stomach tightened.

"Who gave the instructions?"

"He couldn't remember. Or he didn't want to tell me."

I closed the folder.

"Victoria, I need you to find that employee."

"I'm already working on it. But there's something else."

She handed me a printed email.

The sender had contacted her office asking whether my marriage agreement with Damian contained any financial arrangements involving my family.

I read it twice.

"Why would anyone care about my contract?"

"Because someone wants to know whether your marriage gives you access to the Rourke family or their private affairs."

I looked at her.

"Do you think the anonymous messages and these inquiries are connected?"

"I think it's too much of a coincidence to ignore."

My phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

Your father warned you for a reason. Stop before you destroy your family.

I showed Victoria.

Her expression became serious.

"Don't respond. Save every message."

I took a screenshot.

For the first time, I wondered whether the person threatening me was trying to protect my father or protect someone from him.

---

ROURKE GLOBAL HOLDINGS

Damian was waiting when I arrived at his office.

He stood beside the window, speaking with Ethan. When he noticed me, he ended the conversation.

"Chloe."

"Damian."

His eyes studied my face.

"You look troubled."

"I found something about Isabella."

His expression changed immediately.

"What?"

I placed the copies of the newspaper article on his desk.

"Your father's former fiancée was last seen at the Ashford Club. My father was there that evening."

Damian picked up the photograph.

"Richard Summers?"

I nodded.

"Yes."

He examined the document carefully.

"Did your father know Isabella?"

"I asked him. He refused to answer."

Damian's jaw tightened.

"Did he explain why he warned you to stay away from my family?"

"No. He simply said your family destroys everything it touches."

Damian looked at me for a long moment.

"That's an interesting thing for him to say."

"Do you think he was involved in her disappearance?"

"I don't know." He placed the photograph down. "But I intend to find out."

Ethan stepped forward.

"Sir, there's another development."

Damian turned.

"What is it?"

"The journalist who received the leaked investigation document has agreed to meet our communications director. He claims he has information about the Ashford Club incident."

"When?"

"Tomorrow afternoon."

"Arrange for us to attend."

Ethan nodded.

Damian looked at me.

"You should stay out of that meeting."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"Because whoever is leaking these documents may be trying to draw us into something."

"And you think sending me away will make me safer?"

"I think I have a responsibility to protect you."

I folded my arms.

"You have a responsibility to respect the agreement we signed. It says we make decisions together when our interests are involved."

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"You're already using the contract against me."

"I'm simply reminding you of its terms."

He studied me before nodding.

"Fine. You can attend, but you will follow my instructions if the situation becomes dangerous."

"I'll consider it."

"Chloe."

"Damian."

He sighed.

For some reason, I found his frustration amusing.

---

THE SUMMERS ESTATE — NIGHT

I returned home later than expected.

The house was quiet, but light escaped from beneath my father's study door.

I stopped.

It was almost ten o'clock.

Father rarely remained in his study this late unless something important was happening.

I approached quietly.

His voice drifted through the slightly open door.

"That girl is asking questions again."

I froze.

A pause followed.

"No. She doesn't know anything about what happened that night."

My heart began pounding.

Who was he speaking to?

"Listen to me. If the Rourkes discover the truth, everything will be ruined."

Silence.

Then he spoke again.

"I said I'll handle Chloe."

I stepped backwards, but my heel accidentally struck a small decorative table.

The sound echoed through the hallway.

The conversation stopped.

"Who's there?"

I quickly turned and walked towards the staircase.

The study door opened.

"Chloe?"

I stopped.

Father stood in the doorway, holding his phone.

"What are you doing outside my study?"

"I just got home."

"At this hour?"

"I was with Victoria."

His eyes narrowed.

"Your lawyer?"

"Yes."

He looked at me suspiciously.

"Come inside."

I hesitated before following him.

He closed the door and returned to his desk.

"Chloe, I want you to listen carefully. Whatever you think you heard, forget it."

I stared at him.

"I heard you say the Rourkes mustn't discover the truth."

His face went pale.

"You're misunderstanding."

"Then explain."

He rubbed his forehead.

"There are business matters you don't understand."

"Was Isabella Moore a business matter?"

He slammed his hand against the desk.

"Stop mentioning that woman's name!"

The sudden outburst left the room silent.

I looked at him.

"Why? What happened to her?"

For a moment, he seemed ready to answer.

Instead, he walked around his desk.

"Stay away from Damian. End this arrangement before it's too late."

"I won't."

"Chloe, I'm warning you!"

"And I'm asking you one last time. Did you hurt Isabella Moore?"

His eyes widened.

Then his expression turned cold.

"Get out."

I held his gaze for another second before leaving.

But as I reached the door, he spoke again.

"Chloe."

I turned.

His voice was quieter now.

"If you continue this, you may lose more than you can imagine."

I left without answering.

---

CHLOE'S BEDROOM

I locked my bedroom door and sat on the edge of my bed.

My father had confirmed nothing, but his reaction told me enough.

He knew what happened to Isabella.

Perhaps he wasn't responsible for her disappearance. Perhaps he had witnessed something. But whatever the truth was, he was terrified of it coming to light.

I opened my notebook and wrote:

Richard Summers was at the Ashford Club on the night Isabella disappeared.

Then I added:

He is hiding something.

My phone vibrated.

A message from Damian appeared.

I hope you got home safely.

I stared at it before replying.

I did. I spoke to my father again.

His response came almost immediately.

And?

He knows more than he's telling me.

A few seconds passed.

Then my phone rang.

Damian.

"Chloe," he said as soon as I answered. "What happened?"

I told him about the conversation outside my father's study.

He remained silent until I finished.

"Someone is threatening your family," he finally said.

"Or my father is protecting someone."

"Either possibility is dangerous."

"I know."

"Don't confront him alone again."

I looked towards my locked bedroom door.

"I can't promise that."

"Chloe."

"I won't sit quietly while everyone decides what I'm allowed to know."

His voice softened.

"Then don't do it alone. Whatever happened to my father and Isabella, I want the truth as much as you do."

For the first time that night, I felt less alone.

"Thank you, Damian."

"Get some sleep. We'll deal with this tomorrow."

The call ended.

I placed my phone on the bed and returned to my notebook.

Just as I was about to close it, another message appeared from the unknown number.

This time, it contained a photograph.

I opened it.

My breath caught.

The picture showed Isabella Moore standing outside the Ashford Club.

Beside her was my father.

But that wasn't what frightened me most.

A second man stood behind them, his face partially visible.

Beneath the photograph was a short message.

Your father wasn't the only Summers involved that night.

I stared at the screen.

Who else in my family had been there?

My thoughts immediately went to Mother.

Then Pearl.

My fingers trembled as I enlarged the photograph.

The second man's face remained unclear, but I noticed something in his hand.

A distinctive silver ring.

I had seen that ring before.

Recently.

Very recently.

And the person wearing it was someone who had been standing in my house that very morning.

To be continued...