Chapter 3 - THE PHOTOGRAPH MY HUSBAND NEVER WANTED ME TO SEE
“Tell me that's not Daniel's handwriting.”
I held the photograph so tightly that the edges bent against my fingers.
Evan stared at the picture.
Peter stared at Laura.
And somewhere behind me, a champagne glass shattered.
Nobody bothered to clean it up.
“Emily,” Evan said quietly, “there's an explanation.”
“Then start talking.”
He glanced at the photograph.
“I knew Daniel.”
My heart dropped.
The man who had spent eight months telling me I deserved another chance at happiness had been keeping a piece of my first husband's life hidden from me.
“How well?”
“We worked together briefly.”
“You told me you moved to Chicago two years ago.”
“I did.”
“Daniel died three years ago.”
Evan rubbed his forehead.
“I worked here before that. I left after the fire.”
I looked at Peter.
He wouldn't meet my eyes.
“You introduced us,” I whispered.
My brother nodded.
“At Mom's anniversary dinner.”
“You told me Evan was a friend from your investment club.”
“He is.”
“And you forgot to mention he knew Daniel?”
Peter looked toward our mother.
“Emily, this isn't the place.”
I almost laughed.
He had said that when I questioned Daniel's death.
He had said it when I asked why the warehouse insurance paid out so quickly.
He had said it when I wondered why my husband's work files disappeared before I was allowed to collect his belongings.
Apparently, there was never a proper place to tell me the truth.
Laura stepped down from the head table.
“I didn't know what the papers meant,” she said.
Peter turned sharply.
“Laura, stop.”
She ignored him.
“I signed because you told me they were routine company documents.”
“What documents?” I asked.
Laura held out the envelope.
Inside were copies of three agreements bearing her signature.
The words meant little to me at first.
Shareholder authorization.
Transfer of voting rights.
Corporate restructuring.
Then I saw the company name.
Harrington Family Holdings.
My father's company.
The business he had built from a single repair shop into a warehouse and distribution operation employing forty-three people.
My father had died seven months earlier.
Since then, Peter had been managing the business while I cared for Sophie and settled Dad's estate.
I still owned forty percent.
Peter owned forty percent.
The remaining twenty percent belonged to a family trust Dad had established for Sophie.
I looked up.
“Why are you transferring company voting rights?”
Peter's jaw tightened.
“Because we're trying to save the business.”
“From what?”
He said nothing.
Evan stepped closer.
“Emily, your father left behind obligations you don't understand.”
“Then explain them.”
“Not here.”
I looked around.
The guests were watching with expressions ranging from shock to embarrassment.
Several had already begun gathering their coats.
And I realized that this wasn't fair to them.
They had come to celebrate a wedding, not witness my family tearing itself apart.
I walked back to the microphone.
“I'm sorry,” I said. “The reception is over. Thank you for coming.”
My voice shook.
“Please take your gifts home. I don't want anyone feeling obligated to leave anything behind.”
The silence that followed was painful.
Then my aunt Marianne stood.
She approached me, kissed my cheek, and whispered, “Your father would want you to keep asking questions.”
I nearly broke.
Instead, I nodded.
Within fifteen minutes, the ballroom had begun to empty.
Some guests hugged me.
Others avoided my eyes.
The musicians quietly packed their instruments.
And my beautiful wedding cake stood untouched beneath the chandeliers.
Evan remained near the stage.
Peter stood by the doors, arguing with Laura.
I looked toward the hallway.
Sophie was sitting on a bench beside Rachel, eating a cracker.
When she saw me, she lifted her arms.
I hurried to her.
“Did I do something bad, Mommy?”
The question nearly destroyed me.
I knelt.
“No, sweetheart. You did exactly what you're supposed to do when something worries you.”
“Uncle Peter was mad.”
“I know.”
She looked down at her feet.
“I lost my shoe.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
“We'll find it.”
Rachel touched my shoulder.
“I'll take her home if you want.”
I shook my head.
“No. She's staying with me.”
Sophie leaned close.
“Mommy, the picture was in the watch.”
I froze.
“What picture?”
“The little one. Uncle Peter took it out.”
I looked at Rachel.
She understood immediately.
“Tell Mommy what you remember, honey,” she said gently.
Sophie wrinkled her nose.
“They had the blue box. Uncle Peter opened the watch. Evan said, ‘Not that one.’”
“Then what happened?”
“They took out a tiny picture.”
“Who was in it?”
Sophie hesitated.
“Daddy Daniel.”
My chest tightened.
“And another man?”
She shook her head.
“A lady.”
I stared.
“A lady?”
Sophie nodded.
“She had a red coat.”
“Did you recognize her?”
“No.”
Then she added something that made my skin prickle.
“But Uncle Peter said you would.”
I stood slowly.
Rachel looked frightened.
“Emily?”
I pressed a hand against the wall.
Daniel had never mentioned keeping a photograph inside his watch.
He had been a private man, but not a secretive one.
He told me about his work.
His friends.
His worries.
Or so I'd believed.
I kissed Sophie's forehead.
“Stay with Aunt Rachel for a minute.”
Then I returned to the ballroom.
Evan was alone beside the wedding cake.
He had loosened his tie.
When he saw me, relief crossed his face.
“Emily, thank God. I wanted to—”
“Who was the woman in the red coat?”
His expression froze.
I watched the color leave his cheeks.
“Where did you hear that?”
“Sophie.”
He glanced toward the hallway.
I stepped into his path.
“Don't look at her. Look at me.”
Evan lowered his head.
“Her name was Caroline.”
“Caroline who?”
He hesitated.
“Caroline Mercer.”
The name meant nothing.
I searched my memory.
“Was she Daniel's girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Your girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Evan exhaled.
“She was an accountant at the warehouse.”
I waited.
“She found irregularities in the company's financial records,” he continued. “Daniel was helping her investigate.”
“Investigate what?”
Evan looked toward the doors.
“Missing money.”
A cold sensation moved through me.
“How much?”
“Almost four million dollars.”
I stared at him.
“And Peter?”
Evan didn't answer.
“Was Peter involved?”
“I don't know what Daniel believed.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Evan's voice cracked.
“Daniel thought someone was stealing from the company.”
I looked at the photograph in my hand.
“Is that why he died?”
Evan shook his head.
“The fire was an accident.”
“You sound very certain.”
“Because I was there afterward.”
“Afterward?”
He looked away.
I thought of the words on the back of the photograph.
If I die, ask Evan why.
“Daniel knew something was going to happen,” I whispered.
Evan closed his eyes.
“No. He was frightened. That's different.”
“What was he frightened of?”
Before Evan could answer, Peter entered the ballroom.
Laura followed several steps behind him.
Her eyes were red.
“Enough,” Peter said. “Emily, you need to come to the office tomorrow morning.”
“Why?”
“Because Dad left instructions concerning the trust.”
I stared.
“What instructions?”
Peter placed a folder on the table.
“The trustee's annual review is tomorrow. If the required signatures aren't completed, the bank can freeze our operating credit.”
“And you waited until my wedding to mention this?”
“We thought Evan could help you understand.”
I looked from my brother to my husband.
Then back again.
“You planned this.”
Peter's silence answered me.
Laura stepped forward.
“Emily, there's something else.”
Peter turned.
“Laura.”
She didn't stop.
“When I signed those papers, I saw a name on the authorization list.”
Her voice was barely audible.
“Caroline Mercer.”
Evan went completely still.
Laura swallowed.
“Peter told me she moved away years ago.”
I looked at my brother.
“Where is she?”
Peter's shoulders dropped.
For a moment, he looked older than his forty-two years.
Then he whispered, “She's not coming back.”
“Why?”
His eyes filled with something I couldn't identify.
Fear.
Shame.
May you like
Or grief.
“Because Caroline disappeared the same night Daniel died.”
