The Truth My Father Left Behind

I could not take my eyes away from the message on my phone. Because Victor is not the person you should be afraid of. I read it again, hoping I had misunderstood it, but the words remained exactly the same. Nora stood beside me, staring through the window at the black car parked across the street.

“Do you think that man is still there?” she asked.

“I do not know.”

She moved closer to the curtains and looked outside again. “He is gone.”

I slowly released the breath I had been holding. “Maybe we should leave.”

Nora turned toward me. “Where would we go?”

“I do not know.”

I looked around my grandmother’s old house. A few minutes earlier, being there had made me feel safe, but now every room seemed to hold another secret. My father’s letter was still in my hand, and I read the line again. If Adrian Cross ever comes looking for you, listen to him before you trust anyone else. I could not understand why my father had written those words. He had died five years ago, and I had believed I knew everything important about him. I knew the kind of father he had been, the way he used to laugh when I made him angry, and how he always called me his little girl even after I became an adult. But I had never known about Victor. I had never known about Adrian. I had never known that my father had trusted someone else with my future.

I sat on the edge of the sofa. “I need to see Adrian again.”

Nora frowned. “Are you sure?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“Because my father told me to listen to him.”

Nora looked at the letter. “I still do not trust him.”

“Neither do I.”

“Then what do you trust?”

I looked down at the words written in my father’s handwriting. “His connection to my father.”

The next morning, I called the number Adrian had left with me, and he answered almost immediately. “I was wondering when you would call.” His voice was calm.

“I found a letter from my father.”

There was a short silence. “What did it say?”

“He mentioned you.”

Adrian did not respond right away.

“He told me to listen to you if you ever came looking for me.”

Another silence followed before he asked, “Where are you?”

“At my grandmother’s house.”

“Stay there.”

“Why?”

“Because I am coming to you.”

I almost laughed. “You cannot keep telling me where to go.”

“I am not trying to control you.”

“It sounds like you are.”

“I am trying to keep you alive.”

His words made me uncomfortable. “I can protect myself.”

“I believe you.”

“Then why are you so worried?”

“Because the people who are looking for you are not interested in giving you a fair warning.”

I fell silent for a moment. “Come quickly,” I finally said.

“I will be there in twenty minutes.”

He arrived exactly when he said he would. When I opened the door, I saw him standing beside a dark car, looking different from the night before. He was still calm, but there was a new tension in his face as he walked inside and looked around the house. “This place has not changed much.”

I stared at him. “You have been here before?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“The night your father died.”

My chest tightened. “You were here?”

He nodded.

“Why?”

“Your father called me.”

“What did he want?”

Adrian looked at me for several seconds before answering. “He wanted me to protect you.”

I felt tears gather in my eyes. “Why did he think I needed protection?”

“Because he had discovered something about Victor.”

I stepped closer. “What did he discover?”

Adrian took a slow breath. “Victor did not build his company with your father’s money alone. Your father discovered that Victor had been using the company to move money for people who were not supposed to be connected to him.”

I stared at him. “What people?”

“I do not know everyone involved.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“I expect you to understand that I am telling you what I know.”

“Then tell me everything.”

Adrian reached inside his coat and removed a small folder, placing it on the table. “This contains copies of the documents your father collected before he died.”

I opened the folder and found bank records, company reports, and several photographs. I turned one page and my heart stopped. The photograph showed Victor standing beside three men I had never seen before, one of them shaking his hand, and the date on the photograph was from four years earlier. Victor had told me he had been out of the country that week. I turned another page and found a second photograph, this one showing Victor with Sophia, standing outside a private building.

I looked at Adrian. “When was this?”

“Six months ago.”

I stared at the photograph. “They were already working together.”

“Yes.”

“Then why did Victor pretend that their relationship started three months ago?”

“Because three months ago was when he wanted you to believe it started.”

I felt sick. “So everything was a lie.”

“Not everything.”

I looked at him. “What does that mean?”

Adrian’s eyes softened. “Some of what Victor felt for you may have been real.”

I shook my head. “I do not want to hear that.”

“I know.”

I closed the folder. “Why did my father trust you?”

Adrian looked toward the window. “Your father helped my family when we had nothing. Years later, I returned the favor by helping him with his business.”

“And Victor?”

“Victor was someone your father believed he could trust.”

I gave a bitter smile. “He was wrong.”

“Yes.” Adrian’s voice grew quieter. “Your father realized that too late.”

I looked at the letter again. “What happened the night my father died?”

Adrian did not answer immediately, and that frightened me. “Tell me.”

He looked directly into my eyes. “Your father was going to expose Victor.”

My heart began beating faster. “What happened?”

“He was killed before he could do it.”

The room went completely silent. I stared at Adrian. “You are saying my father was murdered?”

“I am saying his death was not the accident you were told it was.”

I felt as though the floor had disappeared beneath me. For five years, I had mourned my father while believing his death had been an unfortunate accident, and now I was being told that someone had taken his life on purpose. I covered my mouth as tears slipped down my cheeks, and Adrian moved toward me but stopped himself before touching me. “I am sorry.”

I looked at him through my tears. “Who killed my father?”

Adrian’s expression became hard. “I do not know.”

“Then how can I trust you?”

“You should not trust me yet,” he answered, and his honesty surprised me. He stepped back. “But there is one thing you need to understand.”

“What?”

“Your father’s death was only the beginning.”

Before I could ask what he meant, his phone rang, and he looked at the screen with an expression that changed immediately. “What happened?” I asked.

He looked at me. “We need to leave.”

“Why?”

He walked toward the window and pointed outside. A black car had stopped in front of the house, and this time there were two men inside. Adrian turned toward me, his voice suddenly urgent. “They found you.”