Chapter 8: The Truth Buried in the Crash

I booked the first flight back to Manhattan.

Clara tried to stop me.

“Fernanda, if the investigation is still incomplete, you should let the lawyers handle it.”

I shook my head.

“They already handled my life once.”

“This time, I want to see the truth myself.”

By the time I landed, the city looked exactly as I remembered it.

But I was no longer the woman who had left it.

A black car was waiting outside the airport.

My investigator, Daniel Brooks, stepped out.

“Mrs. Alvarez.”

I nodded.

“Did you find anything else?”

He handed me a file.

“The garage owner agreed to speak with us.”

We drove directly there.

The owner was an elderly man named Victor.

When he saw the photograph of my parents, his expression changed.

“I remember them.”

I sat across from him.

“My parents brought their car here the day before the accident?”

He nodded slowly.

“Yes.”

“Who brought it?”

“Your father.”

“What did he say?”

Victor looked uncomfortable.

“He said the brakes felt strange.”

My stomach tightened.

“The brakes?”

“Yes. We inspected the car.”

“There was a problem with the brake line.”

I stared at him.

“Then why was the car returned?”

He lowered his eyes.

“Because someone paid us to release it.”

“Who?”

Victor swallowed.

“A man from Ferraro Holdings.”

The room went silent.

“Did you repair the brakes?” I asked.

“No.”

My fingers curled into my palm.

“Why not?”

“We were told the car had to be released immediately.”

“Who gave the order?”

Victor shook his head.

“I never met him.”

Daniel placed another photograph on the table.

“Do you recognize this man?”

Victor stared at it.

Then his face went pale.

“Yes.”

He pointed at the photograph.

“He came here that afternoon.”

I looked at the picture.

It was one of Reed's senior executives.

A man who had attended my wedding.

A man who had stood beside Reed while I cried over my parents' deaths.

I closed my eyes.

For eight years, I had mourned them.

And all this time, the people responsible might have been standing beside me.

“There’s more,” Victor whispered.

I opened my eyes.

“What?”

“Your father came back later that evening.”

“He was furious.”

“He said he was going to expose someone.”

My heart pounded.

“Who?”

Victor hesitated.

“He mentioned Reed Ferraro.”

The words hit me harder than anything else.

My father had confronted Reed before the crash.

The same confrontation Reed had described as a simple argument.

The same argument he claimed caused my father's heart condition to flare up.

But now I knew something else.

The car had already been damaged.

My father knew something was wrong.

And someone connected to Reed had made sure the car was released anyway.

I stood up.

“I need every record you have.”

Victor nodded.

Daniel gathered the documents.

As we walked outside, my phone began ringing.

The number was private.

I answered.

“Fernanda.”

My blood ran cold.

It was Reed.

“Where are you?”

“Why?”

“Because I know what you're investigating.”

I stopped walking.

“Then you know why I'm here.”

His voice lowered.

“You don't understand what you're getting into.”

I laughed bitterly.

“You said the same thing when I discovered Pilar.”

“This is different.”

“No, Reed.”

I looked at the file in my hand.

“This is the first time you're afraid.”

Silence followed.

Then Reed said something that made my blood run cold.

“Your parents weren't killed because they discovered Pilar and me.”

I stopped breathing.

“Then why were they killed?”

His answer came quietly.

“Because they discovered what we were planning.”

The call ended.

I stared at the phone.

For the first time since leaving Manhattan, I felt truly afraid.

Whatever Reed and Pilar had been hiding was bigger than an affair.

And somehow, my parents had died because they knew the truth.