Chapter 36: What Nathaniel Hid

The office remained silent after Victor's words.

"She was planted."

I stared at the highlighted phone record.

Colette Barnes.

The last person Nathaniel had spoken to before he died.

"There has to be a mistake," I whispered.

"She didn't even work for the Ashfords back then."

"Not officially," Victor replied.

"Official records show she joined the household eight months after the accident."

"But people don't simply appear inside families like yours."

"Someone placed her there."

I lowered myself into my chair.

"Why would Nathaniel call her?"

"He didn't know she was the enemy."

"He believed she was a witness."

"A witness?"

"She contacted him first."

"Three days before the crash."

Victor opened another folder.

Inside was a printed timeline.

"Unknown female contacts Nathaniel."

"Claims to possess information regarding Hawthorne Logistics."

"Requests private meeting."

"Meeting cancelled twice."

"Third appointment confirmed."

"Nathaniel dies six hours later."

My stomach tightened.

"She lured him."

"That's one possibility."

"Or she was being used."

"Either way, she's connected."

I looked toward the rain-covered windows.

"Damien fired her yesterday."

"Good," Victor answered.

"Now she'll make mistakes."

"People are always more dangerous after losing protection."

"And easier to track."

He reached into his coat pocket.

"Nathaniel left one final item with me."

"I wasn't certain you were ready for it until now."

He placed a brass key on my desk.

Small.

Old.

Its tag had faded almost completely.

Only one handwritten word remained.

Cedar.

"What does it open?"

"A safety deposit box."

"Where?"

"First National Trust."

"Nathaniel rented it under an assumed business account."

"Why didn't you open it?"

"Because the agreement required both my signature and yours."

"Without you, the bank wouldn't release anything."

I picked up the key.

It felt surprisingly heavy.

"What's inside?"

"I honestly don't know."

"Nathaniel never told me."

"He only said..."

Victor paused.

"If Vivian ever doubts herself, let her see what I hid."

Those words stayed with me long after Victor left.

At five-thirty, I drove to First National Trust.

The bank manager escorted me downstairs without question after verifying the legal documents Victor had prepared.

Rows of steel lockers lined the underground vault.

"Number 314," the manager said.

"Take as much time as you need."

He left me alone.

My hands trembled slightly as I inserted the brass key.

The lock clicked.

Inside the narrow drawer rested only three objects.

A sealed envelope.

A black leather notebook.

And a velvet jewellery pouch.

I opened the pouch first.

An emerald ring slid into my palm.

Not my engagement ring.

Older.

Simpler.

The inside band carried a tiny engraving.

"For Mum."

Tears blurred my vision.

Nathaniel had made it.

He couldn't have been more than sixteen.

Our mother died before he ever had the chance to give it to her.

I closed my fingers around the ring.

Then reached for the notebook.

Unlike the blue diary...

This one contained no daily entries.

Only names.

Dates.

Payments.

Meetings.

Each page documented different transactions.

Most involved companies I'd already seen.

Ashford Holdings.

Hawthorne Logistics.

Raven Capital.

Then, halfway through the notebook...

One unfamiliar heading appeared.

"Project Iris."

Underneath were only four names.

Richard Hawthorne.

Eleanor Ashford.

Unknown Beneficiary.

Vivian Clarke.

I stopped breathing.

My own name.

Written two years before I ever met Damien.

"No..."

I turned the page.

Nothing.

The following pages had all been removed.

Every single one.

Only torn edges remained.

Someone had carefully cut them out.

The envelope was my last hope.

I broke the wax seal.

A single folded letter rested inside.

Nathaniel's handwriting filled the page.

"Viv,"

"If you're reading this, I failed."

"I need you to understand something before you hate the wrong people."

"You were never chosen because of Damien."

"Damien was chosen because of you."

I read the sentence again.

Then again.

Nothing about it made sense.

"Someone wanted you inside the Ashford family long before either of you realised it."

"I spent months trying to discover why."

"I came close enough that they stopped hiding."

"If I disappear... don't waste your life asking who killed me first."

"Ask why they needed you married."

The letter ended abruptly.

No signature.

No farewell.

Only one line written across the bottom margin.

"Find Iris before Iris finds you."

My phone vibrated violently inside my handbag.

Unknown number.

I answered cautiously.

"Hello?"

No one spoke.

Only slow breathing.

Then a woman's voice whispered.

"You're asking the wrong questions, Vivian."

"Who is this?"

"Nathaniel died protecting you."

"Don't make his sacrifice meaningless."

"Tell me who you are!"

A soft laugh answered me.

"You'll remember my voice soon enough."

The line disconnected.

I looked down at the black notebook still resting in my lap.

Tucked inside its back cover was something I hadn't noticed before.

A faded photograph.

Three young people smiled at the camera.

Nathaniel.

A teenage Damien.

And standing between them...

A girl whose face had been deliberately burned away.