Chương 4
"You still think this is about the document."
He stopped.
"It isn't?"
"It's about the fact that when someone tried to destroy me, you needed evidence before you needed me."
The sentence stayed there.
Adrian opened his mouth.
Nothing came.
Because there was no defense that did not sound like an excuse.
He looked toward the folder.
"I need to understand what this is."
"I understand."
"Elena."
"No, I do."
She stepped closer.
"I know your life doesn't work on trust alone."
Her voice lowered.
"You have people around you who lie to you because they want things."
"Yes."
"And I know you can't ignore something connected to your father."
Adrian's face tightened.
"But I thought I was different."
He looked at her.
"What?"
"I thought I was the one person you didn't have to investigate."
The words were quiet.
That made them heavier.
Adrian sat down slowly.
For the first time that night, he looked less like a billionaire and more like a man who had no idea how to repair something.
"I am sorry."
Elena looked at him.
"I believe you are."
The answer surprised him.
"But that doesn't fix it."
A sound came from the hallway.
Both of them turned.
A house employee stood near the doorway holding a small envelope.
"Mr. Vale?"
Adrian stood.
"What is it?"
The employee looked uncomfortable.
"It was left at the front entrance."
"By who?"
The employee hesitated.
"Someone who said you would know."
Adrian took the envelope.
There was no name on the front.
Only a date.
The date was six years earlier.
The same week his father died.
Elena watched his face change.
"What is it?"
Adrian did not answer immediately.
Because for the first time that night, he was no longer looking at a problem involving Elena.
He was looking at a piece of his own history that someone had buried and suddenly placed back in his hands.
He opened the envelope.
Inside was a single photograph.
Adrian stared at it.
Then he turned it toward Elena.
Her breath stopped.
The picture showed Thomas Vale standing outside a hospital entrance.
Beside him was Elena's mother.
And between them was a young Elena, much younger than she was now.
A girl Adrian had never met.
A girl standing next to his father.
A girl his father had apparently known.
Adrian lowered the photograph slowly.
Neither of them spoke.
Because the question had changed.
It was no longer whether Elena had entered his life for a reason.
It was why his father had known her family long before Adrian ever did.
Adrian lowered the photograph slowly.
Neither of them spoke.
Because the question had changed.
It was no longer whether Elena had entered his life for a reason.
It was why his father had known her family long before Adrian ever did.
Elena took the photograph from his hand carefully, as if the paper itself might break.
Her eyes moved over the image again and again.
The hospital entrance in the background looked familiar.
Not because she remembered that exact day.
Because she remembered that place.
The smell of antiseptic.
The uncomfortable chairs in the waiting area.
The vending machine that always swallowed dollar bills.
Her mother sitting with her hands folded tightly in her lap while doctors spoke in voices adults used when they did not want children to understand.
But Thomas Vale was not supposed to be there.
"Who gave you this?" Elena asked.
Adrian looked toward the hallway.
The employee was gone.
"I don't know."
"Adrian."
"I said I don't know."
His voice was sharper than he intended.
He immediately regretted it.
Elena stepped back slightly.
The reaction was small.
Almost invisible.
But Adrian saw it.
He had spent years negotiating with people who hid their reactions because they wanted something from him.
Elena did the opposite.
She tried to hide her reactions because she was afraid of needing something from him.
"Sorry," he said.
She looked at the photograph.
"What was my mother doing with your father?"
Adrian rubbed his forehead.
"I don't know."
"That's becoming your favorite answer tonight."
The comment was quiet, but it carried the exhaustion of someone who had run out of patience for uncertainty.
Adrian walked to the desk and placed the photograph beside the document.
Two pieces of paper.
Two different questions.
Both connected to the same person.
His father.
"I need to talk to my mother," he said.
Elena looked at him.
"Your mother?"
"She might know something."
"Does she know about me?"
He hesitated.
That hesitation was enough.
Elena looked away.
"Wow."
"Elena."
"No."
She held up a hand.
"Don't explain it yet."
"I was going to say I don't know."
"And that is exactly the problem."
She walked toward the window.
Below them, the garden lights continued glowing.
A few guests were leaving through the front entrance.
Drivers waited beside luxury cars.
The party was ending like any other wealthy family event.
Except nothing about it was normal anymore.
"When did your father die?" Elena asked.
"Six years ago."
"How long before he died was this picture taken?"
Adrian looked at the date written on the back.
"Three weeks."
Elena closed her eyes briefly.
Three weeks.
A short amount of time.
Long enough for decisions.
Long enough for secrets.
"Did your father ever mention my mother?"
"No."
"Did your mother?"
"No."
She turned around.
"Then someone spent six years making sure nobody talked."
Adrian did not argue.
Because he was thinking the same thing.
The problem was not only that his father knew Elena's family.
The problem was that his father had hidden it.
And Thomas Vale was not a man who hid things without a reason.
Adrian picked up the folder.
"I need to find out where Claire got this."
Elena looked at him.
"You still trust her enough to ask?"
"No."
"Then why?"
"Because if she found something connected to my father, I need to know how."
May you like
Elena nodded slowly.
It was the answer she expected.
