The Last Night

Evelyn stared at Adrian.

“The last person?”

Adrian didn't look away.

“Yes.”

Her fingers tightened around the piece of paper.

“You were here the night my father died?”

“Yes.”

“And you never told me?”

“I couldn't.”

“You couldn't?”

Her voice cracked.

“You watched me mourn him for two years while knowing you were the last person who saw him alive.”

Adrian stepped toward her.

“Evelyn, listen to me.”

“No.”

She stepped back.

“I've listened to you for three years.”

“Then listen to me now.”

His voice was unusually desperate.

“I didn't kill your father.”

“I didn't accuse you.”

“But you're thinking it.”

Evelyn fell silent.

Adrian looked away.

“I came here because your father called me.”

“Why?”

“He said he had proof.”

“Proof of what?”

“The people who were using both our families.”

Evelyn frowned.

“What happened?”

“I arrived around eleven.”

“And my father?”

“He was already waiting.”

Adrian paused.

“He told me he was afraid.”

“Of whom?”

“He didn't say.”

Evelyn crossed her arms.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“I expect you to hear everything.”

He walked toward the desk.

“Your father gave me a file.”

“What was inside?”

“Names. Bank accounts. Payments.”

“The same documents we found tonight?”

“Yes.”

Evelyn's eyes widened.

“Then what happened?”

Adrian's expression darkened.

“Your father received a phone call.”

“From whom?”

“I don't know.”

“You don't know?”

“He refused to tell me.”

Adrian looked down.

“Then he told me to leave.”

“Why?”

“He said if I stayed, I'd become a target too.”

Evelyn stared at him.

“And you left?”

“Yes.”

“What time?”

“Eleven forty-five.”

“When did he die?”

“Just after midnight.”

Evelyn's breath caught.

“So you were only minutes away.”

“Yes.”

She looked toward the window.

“Why didn't you come back?”

“I tried.”

His voice dropped.

“But when I returned, the house was already surrounded.”

“By the police?”

“No.”

Evelyn looked at him.

“Then who?”

Adrian's eyes hardened.

“Men working for the people your father had discovered.”

Silence filled the room.

Evelyn looked down at the old photograph.

“Then why was your name never mentioned in the investigation?”

“Because I made sure it wasn't.”

She looked at him sharply.

“What?”

“I didn't want anyone to know I had been there.”

“Why?”

“Because I had already received a threat.”

Adrian reached into his pocket and pulled out an old photograph.

Evelyn took it.

Her heart stopped.

It was a photograph of her.

Taken outside her university.

On the back were four words:

SHE DIES NEXT.

Evelyn's face went pale.

“This was taken before we married.”

“Yes.”

“Who sent it?”

“I never found out.”

She looked at him.

“And that's why you married me?”

Adrian nodded.

“I thought keeping you close was the only way I could protect you.”

“But you pushed me away.”

“I thought if you hated me, you would stay away from me.”

Evelyn's eyes filled with tears.

“That was your plan?”

“Yes.”

“It was a terrible plan.”

A faint, sad smile appeared on his face.

“I know.”

For the first time that night, Evelyn almost smiled too.

Then a sound came from upstairs.

Both of them froze.

Footsteps.

Slow.

Careful.

Someone was walking through the house.

Adrian immediately took Evelyn's hand.

“Stay behind me.”

They moved toward the staircase.

The footsteps stopped.

Adrian signaled for her to remain quiet.

They reached the top.

The hallway was empty.

Then a door slammed.

Evelyn jumped.

Adrian rushed toward the sound.

It came from her father's old bedroom.

He opened the door.

Nothing.

The window was open.

The curtains moved in the wind.

Evelyn walked inside.

“Someone was here.”

Adrian looked around.

Then he noticed something on the bed.

A small brown envelope.

He picked it up.

There was no name.

He opened it.

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

His eyes scanned it.

Then his expression changed.

“What?”

He handed it to Evelyn.

She read it.

THE MAN YOU THINK IS DEAD IS ALIVE.

Below it was a photograph.

The same man from the photograph in the hidden room.

Evelyn stared at him.

“Who is he?”

Adrian's voice was barely a whisper.

“Daniel Cross.”

“Who was he?”

“My father's closest business partner.”

“You said he died ten years ago.”

“He did.”

“Then why is someone telling us he's alive?”

Adrian didn't answer.

Evelyn looked at the photograph again.

Something caught her attention.

In the background was a building.

She recognized it immediately.

“Adrian.”

“What?”

“That building.”

He looked closer.

Evelyn pointed.

“It's the hospital.”

Adrian's eyes widened.

“The same hospital where Clara was treated.”

Neither of them spoke.

Then Evelyn remembered the first photograph Clara had shown her.

Adrian.

Clara.

The hospital.

Three years ago.

She looked at Adrian.

“Was Daniel Cross there that night?”

Adrian's expression became grim.

“I don't know.”

Evelyn's phone suddenly rang.

Unknown number.

She answered.

“Hello?”

A man's voice came through.

Cold.

Calm.

“You're looking in the wrong place, Evelyn.”

Her blood ran cold.

“Who are you?”

“You want to know what happened to your father?”

“Yes.”

“Then stop asking your husband questions.”

She looked at Adrian.

“Why?”

The man laughed softly.

“Because Adrian wasn't the one who killed your father.”

Evelyn's heart stopped.

“Then who was?”

There was a long silence.

Then the man whispered:

“The person standing beside you.”

The call ended.

Evelyn slowly lowered her phone.

She looked at Adrian.

He was staring at her.

Neither of them moved.

Then, from downstairs, the front door slammed shut.

Someone had entered the house.