Chapter 18: The Third Person

I stared at the torn second page for several long seconds.

Someone hadn't stolen the entire file.

They had removed only the part that mattered most.

Nathaniel had always been methodical.

If he numbered every receipt and dated every note, there was no chance he would accidentally lose half a page.

Someone had taken it.

Deliberately.

I slid the document back into the folder before anyone could interrupt me.

The knock came less than a minute later.

"Madam?"

It was Damien.

"Open the door."

I looked around the room.

The memory card was already hidden.

Nathaniel's diary disappeared beneath the mattress.

The Hawthorne Project folder returned to the archive box.

Only then did I unlock the door.

Damien stood outside wearing a dark charcoal sweater instead of his usual suit.

For a brief second, he looked less like the chairman of Ashford Holdings and more like the man I had once fallen in love with.

The illusion disappeared the moment he spoke.

"You've been avoiding me."

"I've been busy."

"Busy hiding documents?"

My expression remained unchanged.

"Do you search every room before knocking now?"

He ignored the question.

"Mother says you refused tomorrow's luncheon."

"I did."

"You can't keep disappearing whenever you're upset."

"I'm not upset."

"Then what are you?"

"Finished."

The word lingered between us.

Damien's jaw tightened.

"You still intend to divorce me."

"You already know the answer."

"Not until I hear you say it."

"Yes."

"I intend to divorce you."

Silence settled over the hallway.

For once, Damien didn't argue.

Instead, his eyes drifted past me into the guest room.

"Why are you staying here?"

"Because I no longer belong in the master bedroom."

"You do."

"Do I?"

"You made that decision yourself."

"No, Damien."

"You made it the night Colette stood half-dressed in our living room."

His face darkened.

"Nothing happened."

"You keep saying that."

"Because it's true."

"Truth usually doesn't require repeating."

His lips parted, but no explanation followed.

Instead, he asked quietly,

"Did Elias tell you to leave me?"

I almost laughed.

"You still believe this is about another man."

"Isn't it?"

"No."

"Then tell me what it is about."

I looked directly into his eyes.

"It's about a third person."

He frowned.

"Third person?"

"Our marriage was never just you and me."

"Someone else has been standing between us from the very beginning."

"Colette?"

"No."

"Then who?"

"I don't know yet."

"But I'm going to find out."

For the first time, uncertainty flickered across Damien's face.

"What are you talking about?"

"Three years ago, my brother started investigating financial transfers connected to Ashford Holdings."

His expression froze.

"Who told you that?"

"Does it matter?"

"Answer me."

"It matters very much."

"Why?"

"Because Nathaniel never worked for Ashford Holdings."

"Exactly."

"So why was he investigating your company?"

Damien fell silent.

That silence answered more than any denial could.

"You knew," I whispered.

"I knew he contacted our legal department once."

"Nothing more."

"That's not what your face says."

"Vivian..."

"Did you meet him before the accident?"

He hesitated.

"Once."

"Where?"

"At my office."

"What did he want?"

"He asked whether I trusted everyone working under me."

"And what did you say?"

"I told him yes."

"He looked disappointed."

My heartbeat quickened.

"Did he explain why?"

"No."

"He simply thanked me and left."

"That was the last time I saw him."

"You're lying."

Damien looked genuinely surprised.

"Why would you think that?"

"Because my brother wrote something before he died."

"He said someone inside your family was using your name."

The colour drained from Damien's face.

"Who told you that?"

"Does it matter?"

"Vivian."

"Answer me."

"Did Nathaniel really say that?"

"Yes."

He took a slow step backwards.

"That's impossible."

"Why?"

"Because..."

He stopped himself.

"Because what?"

"Nothing."

"No."

"You were about to say something."

"Finish it."

Damien rubbed both hands across his face before speaking again.

"Because someone else said exactly the same thing to me the day after Nathaniel's funeral."

The room seemed to shrink around us.

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"The call came from an unlisted number."

"The voice told me one sentence."

"Don't trust your own signature."

"Then they hung up."

Neither of us spoke.

The silence between us felt completely different now.

Not hostile.

Uneasy.

"Did you ever investigate?" I asked.

"I tried."

"Someone erased every trace of the call."

"Even our telephone provider couldn't identify the source."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because by then..."

His eyes met mine.

"...I already believed you had lost another man's child."

"I thought Nathaniel was simply protecting you."

"So you chose suspicion instead of questions."

He lowered his gaze.

"Yes."

It was the first honest answer Damien had given me in months.

My phone vibrated inside my pocket.

An unknown number.

I answered cautiously.

"Mrs. Ashford?"

"Speaking."

"This is Officer Daniel Cross."

"Victor Hayes gave me your number."

"He said you're looking into your brother's accident."

"I am."

"Then there's something you need to know."

"The official crash report listed only two people at the scene before emergency services arrived."

"That report was wrong."

"There was a third person."

Every muscle in my body went still.

"Who?"

"That's exactly what somebody has spent three years making sure nobody remembers."