Chương 8
A name.
A name Ethan recognized.
His own.
But the handwriting was not Claire’s.
It belonged to someone who had been watching his family long before the wedding day.
Sophie stepped closer.
“Dad?”
Ethan closed the notebook.
He did not want her seeing his expression.
“What is it?”
He looked at Natalie.
She looked terrified.
And this time, Ethan knew it was not because she was afraid of being exposed.
She was afraid because she had finally reached the part of the truth she had been avoiding.
“This,” Ethan said quietly, “is why Claire was scared.”
The notebook felt heavier than it should have.
Ethan had held thousands of important things in his life.
Contracts.
Medical documents.
Legal papers.
Keys to houses.
The weight of objects had never bothered him.
But this was different.
This was a record of someone looking into his family from the shadows.
He placed it back on the desk.
“Who is this?” he asked.
Natalie did not answer.
“Sophie,” Ethan said quietly, “can you wait in the living room with Mrs. Harper?”
Sophie looked at him.
She did not argue.
That worried him more.
A child who argued was still being a child.
A child who quietly accepted bad news was usually trying to protect everyone else.
“I’ll come with you,” she said.
Ethan knelt.
“I know you want to.”
“Then why can’t I?”
Because he wanted to say that the world was cruel.
Because he wanted to say adults made mistakes.
Because he wanted to say he had failed to protect her from things he did not even know existed.
Instead, he touched her shoulder.
“Because some things are heavy, and it’s my job to carry them first.”
Sophie looked at him for a long moment.
Then she nodded.
Not because she fully understood.
Because she trusted him.
That trust almost hurt more.
Mrs. Harper led her back toward the living room.
Ethan waited until the door closed.
Then he turned toward Natalie.
“Start talking.”
Natalie walked to the window.
The city moved below them.
Cars passed.
People carried groceries.
A man walked a dog that kept stopping to sniff every tree.
Normal life continued without knowing anything about the hidden things inside this apartment.
“I met him before Claire got sick,” Natalie said.
Ethan stayed silent.
“Who?”
Natalie looked at the notebook.
“Daniel Voss.”
The name meant nothing to him.
“Should I know him?”
“No.”
“Then why is his name in Claire’s notes?”
Natalie took a breath.
“Because he was looking into your company.”
Ethan frowned.
“My company?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer frustrated him.
But this time, Natalie looked less like someone hiding information and more like someone trapped inside it.
“What did Claire know?”
Natalie looked down.
“She thought something was wrong with the financial reports.”
Ethan stared.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because everything was audited.”
Natalie nodded.
“I know.”
“You knew?”
“Claire told me.”
Ethan turned away.
He walked toward the desk again.
His company had been his entire life before Claire became sick.
Long hours.
Travel.
Meetings.
The endless pressure of making sure everyone who depended on him was taken care of.
He had always believed the work was separate from home.
Now that separation felt like a lie.
“What kind of problem?”
Natalie hesitated.
“Money missing.”
Ethan shook his head.
“No.”
“She didn’t know exactly.”
“Then why write it down?”
“Because she noticed patterns.”
Ethan opened the notebook.
The first pages were filled with dates.
Amounts.
Names.
Small notes.
Nothing immediately clear.
But one thing repeated.
A department name.
A division he knew well.
A person who had worked with him for years.
His stomach tightened.
“Mark?”
Natalie nodded.
“Your business partner.”
Ethan looked up.
Mark Ellis had been his friend since college.
They had built the company together.
They had stood beside each other through the worst years.
When Claire got sick, Mark had taken on extra responsibilities.
He had helped.
At least that was what Ethan believed.
“No.”
The word came out quietly.
Natalie watched him.
“I said the same thing.”
“You accused him?”
“No.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I asked Claire.”
“And?”
Natalie looked away.
“She told me not to.”
Ethan stared.
“Why?”
“She said suspicion could destroy people even when it was wrong.”
“That sounds like Claire.”
Natalie gave a small nod.
“She was always more careful with people than they deserved.”
The sentence surprised him.
Because it sounded like something Ethan would have said.
Before everything changed.
Before grief turned every memory into something painful.
He looked back at the notebook.
“What happened after that?”
Natalie sat down.
“Claire started collecting information.”
“Without telling me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she was afraid you would confront Mark.”
Ethan almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was exactly what he would have done.
“I would have.”
“I know.”
“And she was right.”
Natalie looked at him.
“What?”
“She was right to worry.”
The admission sat heavily between them.
He hated it.
But it was true.
Claire knew him.
She knew his instinct was action.
Protect.
Confront.
Fix.
Sometimes before understanding.
“So she created this apartment,” Ethan said.
“Yes.”
“To investigate my company.”
“Yes.”
“And she trusted you with it.”
Natalie looked ashamed.
“She trusted me with part of it.”
“Part?”
Natalie nodded.
“There were things she never told me.”
“What things?”
“I don’t know.”
Ethan looked at the notebook.
A strange frustration built inside him.
The truth was close enough to touch but still covered by layers of missing information.
“How long did she investigate?”
“Months.”
“While she was sick?”
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes.
That was the part he could not accept.
Not because he blamed Claire.
Because he blamed himself.
She had spent her final months carrying fear.
And he had been beside her believing he was helping.
Maybe he had been.
Maybe he had also missed something important.
“What did Daniel Voss have to do with this?”
Natalie looked toward the desk.
“Claire hired him.”
May you like
Ethan froze.
“She hired a private investigator?”
