Chương 7
Nothing illegal.
Nothing dramatic.
Just pressure.
Money.
Control.
The usual things that happened when companies became valuable enough for people to forget they were built by humans.
“How did she know?”
“I don’t know.”
Christopher looked down.
That was impossible.
Or almost impossible.
“Michael.”
“She asked questions about you.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Your schedule.”
The answer made his stomach tighten.
“Your habits.”
Michael paused.
“Emma’s routine.”
Christopher gripped the phone.
“What did you tell her?”
“Nothing important.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“I know.”
The honesty surprised him.
Michael had always struggled with admitting mistakes.
It was one of the reasons they stopped being brothers before they stopped being business partners.
“You’re hiding something.”
“Yes.”
Christopher waited.
“I didn’t want to tell you because I thought it would make things worse.”
“That has never worked in the history of problems.”
Michael gave a quiet, humorless laugh.
“You sound exactly like Dad.”
Christopher looked away.
The comparison irritated him.
Then it hurt.
Their father had been gone for nine years.
Still capable of appearing in conversations.
Still capable of creating arguments from beyond the grave.
“What did Juliette want?”
Michael took a breath.
“She wanted information.”
“About what?”
“About you.”
“Why?”
“Because she believed you were going to leave her.”
Christopher frowned.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Michael hesitated.
“Because she thought Emma was the reason.”
The words felt colder than they should have.
Christopher walked back toward the desk.
“She thought my daughter was the reason?”
“She said you would never choose anyone over Emma.”
“That’s true.”
“I know.”
Michael’s voice softened.
“But she didn’t say it like it was something good.”
Christopher said nothing.
A memory surfaced.
Juliette watching Emma and him from across the dining room.
The expression on her face.
He had thought it was affection.
Now he wondered.
Maybe it was calculation.
Maybe it was jealousy.
Maybe it was something more complicated.
“Did she ask you to hurt me?”
“No.”
“Did she ask you to help her get closer to me?”
“Yes.”
Christopher closed his eyes.
“How?”
“She wanted me to repair our relationship.”
The answer stunned him.
“She thought if you trusted me again, you would trust her more.”
Christopher almost laughed.
It was absurd.
It was exactly the kind of plan that sounded reasonable to someone who did not understand the damage between brothers.
“She used you.”
“Yes.”
Michael did not defend himself.
“I think she used both of us.”
The sentence remained there.
Christopher wanted to reject it.
He wanted one clear person to blame.
One villain.
One simple answer.
But life rarely gave those.
“Where is she now?”
Michael paused.
“Juliette?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know.”
Christopher looked toward the front door.
She had left less than an hour ago.
“She was here.”
“Then you need to know something else.”
“What?”
Michael’s voice became quieter.
“Before she met you, she changed her name.”
Christopher stared at the wall.
“What?”
“Her legal name used to be Julia Bennett.”
The name meant nothing.
But the way Michael said it meant everything.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“You met with her and never asked?”
“I asked.”
“And?”
“She lied.”
Christopher felt his jaw tighten.
“About what?”
“She said she changed it because she wanted a fresh start.”
“And you believed her?”
“No.”
That answer came quickly.
“Then why keep talking to her?”
Michael was quiet.
Finally, he said, “Because I thought she was trying to hurt you.”
Christopher looked at the photograph.
“And you wanted to know how.”
“Yes.”
The honesty was uncomfortable.
“You were investigating her?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
Michael laughed softly.
“You didn’t exactly invite me into your life.”
The words landed.
Because they were true.
Christopher had spent so long protecting himself from betrayal that he had built walls around everyone.
Even people who had once mattered.
“I found something,” Michael said.
Christopher looked up.
“What?”
“A file.”
“What kind of file?”
“About Julia Bennett.”
“Where?”
“In an old storage account connected to my previous company.”
Christopher frowned.
“Why would information about her be there?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not normal.”
“I know.”
Christopher looked at the photograph again.
Juliette standing beside his brother.
Two people from different parts of his life.
Both connected to the same person.
“What was in the file?”
Michael hesitated.
That hesitation was different.
Not fear.
Concern.
“Chris.”
“Tell me.”
“It mentioned another child.”
The room became silent.
Christopher felt the words before he understood them.
“Another child?”
“Yes.”
“Whose?”
Michael swallowed.
“I don’t know.”
Christopher stared at the phone.
“What does that mean?”
“It means the file was incomplete.”
“Then why tell me?”
“Because there was one sentence I could read.”
Christopher waited.
Michael spoke slowly.
“‘Access through emotional attachment remains the most effective method.’”
Christopher felt cold.
Not because the sentence proved anything.
Because it sounded like something someone would write about a person.
Not to a person.
“Where is the file now?”
“I deleted it.”
Christopher closed his eyes.
“You deleted evidence?”
“I didn’t know what it was.”
“You just said it was about her.”
“I know.”
Michael sounded frustrated with himself.
“I was angry.”
Christopher looked at the pool outside.
A place where everything had seemed simple yesterday.
A father.
A daughter.
A woman he trusted.
Now every memory felt like something he had to examine.
“Send me everything you have.”
“There isn’t much.”
“Send it anyway.”
Michael was quiet.
Then he said, “Chris.”
“What?”
“If Juliette is who I think she is, the pool wasn’t the first attempt.”
Christopher looked toward Emma’s bedroom.
His daughter was upstairs.
Sleeping.
Safe.
At least for the moment.
“What do you mean?”
Michael answered carefully.
“I mean you need to stop asking what happened yesterday.”
A pause.
“You need to find out what has been happening while you weren’t looking.”
Christopher ended the call without saying goodbye.
He remained in the study long after the screen went dark.
The room felt different now.
May you like
Not because anything had changed physically.
The same books lined the shelves.
