Chương 7
Sadness.
Not surprise.
Like she had been expecting to see his father’s eyes in someone else’s face.
“Adrian.”
He stopped beside the table.
“You know what I look like.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Your father had photographs.”
That answer should not have bothered him.
It did.
He sat down.
Claire took the chair beside him.
Evelyn looked at her.
“I’m sorry.”
Claire frowned slightly.
“For what?”
“For what my family’s history has done to yours.”
The words were unexpected.
Claire did not know how to respond.
Adrian leaned forward.
“Tell me everything.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“Everything is a dangerous word.”
“Why?”
“Because people remember things differently.”
“Then tell me what you know.”
That seemed to satisfy her more.
“My parents owned the land before your grandfather.”
Adrian listened.
“They struggled financially.”
Evelyn glanced toward the window.
“This was before the neighborhood became what it is now.”
She described a smaller town.
A house that needed repairs.
A family trying to hold onto something meaningful.
“My parents sold the property because they had no choice.”
“And my grandfather bought it.”
“Yes.”
“But there was an agreement.”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
Evelyn reached into her purse.
She removed a folded piece of paper.
Not the original.
A copy.
“My father kept this.”
Adrian opened it carefully.
The language was old.
Formal.
But clear enough.
The agreement described a percentage of future property value.
Not ownership.
Not a claim to live there.
A financial promise.
“When my grandfather died, why didn’t anyone know about this?”
Evelyn looked at him.
“Because the original disappeared.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“Who took it?”
Evelyn did not answer immediately.
“My father believed it was your grandfather.”
“And you?”
“I believed your grandfather was not the only person involved.”
Claire looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
Evelyn folded her hands.
“It means your family was not the only family keeping secrets.”
The statement changed the room.
Adrian stared at the paper.
“What happened after my father found out?”
“He called me.”
“When?”
“About a year before he died.”
“What did he want?”
“To make things right.”
Adrian almost smiled.
Almost.
“My father always wanted to make things right.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“That sounds like him.”
The recognition hurt.
Because it came from someone who had known a side of his father Adrian had never seen.
“Did he tell you about my mother?”
Evelyn hesitated.
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“That she was not a bad person.”
Adrian looked confused.
“After everything?”
Evelyn nodded.
“He said Margaret was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Losing control.”
Claire looked down.
The answer seemed too familiar.
Evelyn continued.
“Your father believed fear had shaped Margaret for years.”
Adrian rubbed his thumb against the edge of the paper.
“He defended her.”
“He understood her.”
“That’s different.”
“Yes.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“Your father also said understanding someone does not mean allowing them to hurt you.”
Adrian became quiet.
It sounded like something his father would say.
Something he needed to hear.
“Where is the original agreement?” he asked.
Evelyn’s expression changed.
Not fear.
Concern.
“I don’t know.”
“But you know something.”
“I know your father found it.”
“Then where did it go?”
Evelyn looked directly at him.
“That is why I agreed to meet you.”
Adrian leaned forward.
“Why?”
“Because after your father died, someone came to see me.”
“Who?”
Evelyn looked down at her coffee.
“Your mother.”
The answer was not surprising.
But it still hurt.
“What did she want?”
Evelyn took a slow breath.
“She wanted to know if I still had the original documents.”
“And?”
“I told her no.”
“Did she believe you?”
Evelyn looked toward the window.
“No.”
Adrian felt his phone vibrate.
He looked down.
A message from an unknown number.
A single sentence appeared on the screen.
Stop looking into things your father buried.
Claire saw his expression change.
“What is it?”
Adrian turned the phone toward her.
Evelyn saw it too.
Her face went pale.
Because she recognized something Adrian did not.
Not the message.
The number.
“That’s impossible,” she whispered.
Adrian looked at her.
“What?”
Evelyn stared at the screen.
“That number belonged to your father.”
Adrian looked at Evelyn as if waiting for her to correct herself.
She did not.
The older woman kept staring at the phone, her face carrying a kind of fear he had not seen from anyone since his father’s funeral.
“That number,” she said quietly, “was disconnected after he died.”
Adrian looked back at the screen.
The message was still there.
The words were simple.
The threat behind them was not.
“How do you know it was his number?” Claire asked.
Evelyn finally looked away from the phone.
“Because I called it.”
“When?”
“Three days after the funeral.”
Adrian felt his chest tighten.
“Why?”
“Because your father told me to.”
The answer created a silence that none of them knew how to fill.
Claire leaned closer.
“What exactly did he tell you?”
Evelyn looked at the folded document on the table.
“He said if anything happened to him before he finished fixing what was wrong, I should call that number.”
Adrian stared.
“My father gave you a phone number that belonged to him?”
“Yes.”
“But he died.”
“Yes.”
“And somehow it just sent me a message.”
Evelyn nodded slowly.
“That is what worries me.”
Adrian picked up his phone.
He checked the number again.
No name.
No profile.
No information.
Just eleven digits connected to a dead man.
“Could someone else have it?”
Evelyn shook her head.
“Maybe.”
The uncertainty bothered him.
He wanted a clear answer.
A villain.
A person.
A reason.
Instead, he had another question.
Claire noticed his frustration.
“Don’t force it.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
“You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Trying to solve the whole thing before you let yourself understand one part.”
He wanted to argue.
He did not.
Because she was right.
He had spent years watching his family avoid the truth.
May you like
Now he was doing the opposite.
He was trying to drag every hidden piece into the light at once.
