THE SECRET MY FATHER TOOK TO HIS GRAVE

I stood outside The Obsidian Room with the phone still pressed against my ear.

The call had lasted less than twenty seconds.

But those few words had shaken me more than anything Clint had confessed that night.

Ask your uncle what happened to your father.

I looked down at the photograph in my hand.

My wedding day.

Clint smiling beside me.

My father standing proudly behind us.

He had looked so happy that day.

So certain that his daughter had chosen a good man.

I remembered what he had told me before the ceremony.

“Clara, never marry someone because you think you can fix him.”

I had laughed.

“Dad, Clint doesn’t need fixing.”

He had smiled.

“Then make sure you never become the one who needs saving.”

At the time, I thought he was simply being protective.

Now those words sounded like a warning.

I returned inside.

The emergency lights were still flashing.

Agents were searching every corridor.

Miller approached me.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

He looked at the envelope in my hand.

“What happened?”

“Someone escaped through the service entrance.”

“Did you see them?”

“No.”

“Did they leave that?”

I nodded.

He opened the evidence bag and examined the photograph.

“Who is this?”

“My father.”

Miller looked at me.

“Why would someone send you a picture of your father?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out.”

I walked back toward the main room.

Meredith was sitting beneath the red emergency lights.

She looked exhausted.

But when she saw the photograph in my hand, something changed in her expression.

“You know who that is?”

She stared at my father.

“Yes.”

My entire body went still.

“How?”

Meredith looked away.

“I’ve seen him before.”

“When?”

She didn’t answer.

I grabbed a chair and pulled it closer.

“Meredith.”

She looked at me.

“Tell me the truth.”

She hesitated.

Then she whispered:

“Your father worked with Sterling Global.”

I felt the floor shift beneath me.

“My father was an accountant.”

“He was more than that.”

“What does that mean?”

“He discovered something.”

“What?”

“Money was disappearing from the company.”

My breathing slowed.

“How much?”

“Millions.”

“Did he report it?”

Meredith shook her head.

“He tried.”

“And?”

“He disappeared.”

I stared at her.

“My father died in a car accident.”

“That is what they told you.”

The room seemed to go silent.

“What are you saying?”

Meredith leaned closer.

“I’m saying your father wasn’t supposed to die.”

I stood abruptly.

“You knew him?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know this?”

She looked toward the agents.

“Because the same people who were involved then are involved now.”

My mind raced.

“What people?”

“I don’t know all of them.”

“But you know one.”

She looked at me.

“Yes.”

“Who?”

She swallowed.

“Victor Hale.”

The name meant nothing to me.

“Who is Victor Hale?”

Meredith shook her head.

“That’s the problem.”

“What problem?”

“You can’t find him.”

“Why?”

“Because he doesn’t officially exist.”

Before I could ask another question, an agent approached us.

“Agent Harrison.”

I turned.

“We recovered the files from Meredith’s office.”

“Anything useful?”

He handed me a tablet.

“There are encrypted records dating back twelve years.”

I looked at the screen.

Twelve years.

The same year my father died.

My hands tightened around the tablet.

“Can you open them?”

“Our digital team is working on it.”

“Do whatever it takes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He walked away.

I looked at Meredith.

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”

She laughed bitterly.

“Because I was scared.”

“You weren’t scared when you stole millions.”

“I thought I was untouchable.”

“And now?”

She looked around the room.

“Now I know better.”

I leaned toward her.

“Tell me everything.”

She was silent for several seconds.

Then she finally spoke.

“Clint wasn’t the one who started this.”

I frowned.

“What?”

“He was recruited.”

“By Victor?”

She nodded.

“He was approached about eighteen months ago.”

“For what?”

“To help move money.”

“How much?”

“At first, small amounts.”

“And then?”

“Larger.”

“Why did he agree?”

She looked embarrassed.

“Because he wanted power.”

I closed my eyes.

That sounded exactly like Clint.

“He wanted to become a partner,” she continued. “But Victor didn’t want him to own anything.”

“So what did Victor promise him?”

“Protection.”

I looked at her.

“From what?”

Meredith’s voice became almost a whisper.

“From me.”

I stared at her.

“You’re saying Victor wanted you to turn against Clint?”

“No.”

She shook her head.

“He wanted Clint to turn against me.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew too much.”

The pieces were beginning to connect.

Clint wasn’t the mastermind.

Meredith wasn’t either.

They were both pieces on someone else’s board.

But there was still one question.

“Why my father?”

Meredith looked at me.

“Because your father found the original ledger.”

“What ledger?”

“The one that proves where the money came from.”

“Where is it?”

She hesitated.

“I don’t know.”

“Who does?”

She looked toward the evidence room.

“Your husband.”

I froze.

“Clint?”

“He found it months ago.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

I turned toward the agents.

“Bring Clint here.”

Minutes later, Clint was brought into a private conference room.

His face was pale.

He looked at me and immediately knew something had changed.

“What happened?”

I placed the photograph of my father on the table.

Clint stared at it.

His eyes widened.

“Where did you get that?”

“Someone sent it to me.”

He looked terrified.

“Clara…”

“Tell me what you know about my father.”

He shook his head.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I swear.”

“You worked for Sterling Global.”

“So?”

“My father worked for Sterling Global.”

Clint’s expression changed.

“You already knew that?”

“I knew he worked there.”

I leaned forward.

“I didn’t know he discovered millions of dollars being stolen.”

Clint looked away.

“Who told you?”

“Meredith.”

He closed his eyes.

“She’s going to get us killed.”

“Who?”

He looked at me.

“Victor.”

“Who is Victor Hale?”

Clint swallowed.

“You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it.”

“He doesn’t care about the money.”

“Then what does he care about?”

Clint stared at the table.

“People.”

“What people?”

“Anyone who gets in his way.”

I pushed the photograph closer.

“What happened to my father?”

Clint said nothing.

“Clint.”

His eyes filled with fear.

“Your father found the ledger.”

“And?”

“He gave it to someone.”

“Who?”

Clint looked directly at me.

“Your uncle.”

My blood ran cold.

Richard.

Uncle Richard.

The same man who had helped me begin the investigation.

The same man who had warned me not to trust anyone inside the club.

I stood slowly.

“Why would my father give it to Richard?”

“Because he trusted him.”

“And then?”

Clint looked away.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not good enough.”

He finally whispered:

“Your father was going to expose everyone.”

“Everyone who?”

“Sterling Global.”

“Victor?”

“Yes.”

“And my uncle?”

Clint’s eyes widened.

“I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He suddenly grabbed my wrist.

“Clara, listen to me.”

I pulled my hand away.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Your uncle may not be who you think he is.”

I stared at him.

“Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Because if Richard really has that ledger…”

He stopped.

“What?”

Clint looked toward the door.

“Then you aren’t investigating Victor.”

His voice dropped.

“You’re investigating the man who has been protecting Victor for twelve years.”

My heart stopped.

And before I could ask another question, the conference-room door opened.

An agent stood there.

“Agent Harrison.”

“Yes?”

“We decrypted one of the files.”

“What does it say?”

He looked at the tablet.

Then at me.

“It contains a payment record from twelve years ago.”

“Who made the payment?”

The agent hesitated.

Then he turned the screen toward me.

I looked at the name.

And for several seconds, I couldn’t breathe.

Because the person who had authorized the payment connected to my father’s death…

was Richard Vance.