Chương 6
“But Emily thought she knew.”
Daniel picked up the mouse.
He opened the document again.
The notes continued below the payment records.
There were scanned messages.
Screenshots.
A list of dates.
At first, none of it made sense.
Then he saw a name.
Marcus.
His hand stopped.
“No.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“What?”
“Why is Marcus here?”
Her expression changed.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
“Because Emily suspected him.”
Daniel stepped back.
The accusation felt impossible.
Marcus was Noah’s father.
Emily’s husband.
The man who had sat beside Daniel during hospital visits.
The man who had cried harder than anyone at her funeral.
“No.”
Rebecca said nothing.
“Don’t do this.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re letting a document convince you.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I’m letting Emily’s concerns speak.”
Daniel looked at the screen.
The name was there.
But a name was not a truth.
He knew that.
He had spent decades teaching employees not to confuse evidence with conclusions.
“What did Emily think Marcus did?”
Rebecca swallowed.
“She thought he was hiding money.”
Daniel stared.
“From her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She didn’t know.”
The answer frustrated him.
“Then why suspect him?”
“Because of the timing.”
Daniel looked closer.
Rebecca pointed at a date.
“This transfer happened three days after Emily updated her will.”
Daniel stared at the screen.
A cold feeling moved through him.
“Marcus knew about the will?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Rebecca’s eyes lowered.
“Emily told him.”
That answer created another question.
Too many questions.
Daniel stepped away from the desk.
The wedding outside suddenly felt like another universe.
A place where people were fixing table settings and checking flower arrangements while his family history was being rewritten inside a tiny office.
“Where is Marcus now?”
Rebecca looked toward the door.
“He’s with Noah.”
Daniel immediately moved.
Then stopped.
Because the last thing he wanted was to confront Marcus without knowing what he was walking into.
For years, Daniel had believed the truth was something you found.
Now he was beginning to understand that sometimes the truth was something people fought over.
Something everyone touched and changed.
Something that arrived carrying pieces of every person who had tried to protect themselves.
The computer screen remained open.
Emily’s notes waited below.
Daniel scrolled further.
Near the bottom was a final message written in Emily’s own handwriting.
Not typed.
Not copied.
A photograph of a handwritten page.
The words were simple.
Daniel leaned closer.
Dad, if you are reading this, please remember one thing.
The room disappeared around him.
He read the next line.
Do not punish someone because they are afraid.
Find out what they are afraid of.
Daniel read the sentence again.
Do not punish someone because they are afraid.
Find out what they are afraid of.
For a moment, he forgot that Rebecca was standing beside him.
He forgot the wedding guests waiting outside.
He forgot the music, the flowers, and the life he had planned to begin that afternoon.
All he could see was Emily’s handwriting.
The uneven letters.
The slight pressure marks where she had pressed harder with the pen.
The handwriting of someone who was tired but still trying to make things easier for everyone else.
That had always been Emily.
Even when she was suffering, she worried about other people being uncomfortable.
Daniel leaned back in the chair.
A memory came without permission.
Emily sitting at his kitchen table six months before her death, wearing one of his old sweatshirts because she said hospitals had made her hate expensive clothes.
She had been sorting bills.
He had told her to stop and rest.
She had laughed and said, “Dad, you think resting is something people do when they’re not responsible for anyone.”
At the time, he had thought she was being stubborn.
Now he wondered how many things she had been trying to carry without letting anyone know.
“What else did she write?” Rebecca asked.
Daniel looked at her.
There was something different in her voice.
Not curiosity.
Not fear of being exposed.
Something closer to needing the answer.
He scrolled down.
The image ended there.
There were no more handwritten notes.
But beneath it was another file.
A photograph.
Daniel opened it.
The picture showed Emily sitting in a hospital chair.
She looked thinner than he remembered.
Her hair was shorter.
Her face was tired.
But she was smiling.
Noah was sitting beside her, holding a toy dinosaur.
Marcus was standing behind them.
And Rebecca was on the other side of the room.
Daniel stared.
It was not the photograph that bothered him.
It was what was on the table in front of Emily.
A folder.
The same folder that appeared in another photograph taken several weeks later.
A folder Daniel had never seen.
“What is that?” he whispered.
Rebecca stepped closer.
“I don’t know.”
Daniel looked at her.
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“Emily told me not to look inside.”
That answer surprised him.
“Why would she tell you that?”
“Because she didn’t trust herself.”
Daniel frowned.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
Rebecca looked at the photo.
“She said she was too emotional.”
The room became quiet.
“She said if she opened it before she was ready, she would make a decision based on fear.”
Daniel looked back at Emily’s note.
Do not punish someone because they are afraid.
The words felt heavier now.
“What was in the folder?”
Rebecca’s face tightened.
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
“I expect you not to believe anything until you have enough information.”
Daniel watched her.
That was the first time since the hallway that Rebecca sounded like the person he thought he knew.
Not defensive.
Not pleading.
Just exhausted.
A knock came at the door.
Sandra opened it slightly.
“Daniel?”
He turned.
Marcus stood behind her.
Noah was beside him.
The little boy looked relieved when he saw Daniel.
“Grandpa.”
Daniel immediately walked over and crouched down.
“You okay?”
May you like
Noah nodded.
“Marcus gave me apple juice.”
