Mara walked out of the restaurant without feeling the pavement beneath her shoes.
The sunlight was too bright.
Cars moved along the street. Someone laughed outside a nearby café. A delivery cyclist shouted at a taxi. The ordinary world continued with insulting confidence.
Her father had been killed.
Daniel had known.
And somehow, for three years, the man she trusted most had carried that knowledge while listening to her talk about everything else.
Her work.
Her childhood.
Her fears.
The future she wanted.
All of it.
Mara stopped beside a parked car and pressed both hands against the roof.
She tried to breathe.
Daniel came through the restaurant doors.
“Mara.”
She turned.
“Don't.”
He stopped.
For a moment they simply looked at each other.
He was still wearing the pale blue shirt she had told him made his eyes look brighter.
She hated herself for noticing.
“You lied to me,” she said.
“I did.”
“At least you can admit that.”
“I don't have an excuse.”
“No.”
He nodded.
“You don't.”
She laughed once, without humor.
“That might be the first honest thing you've said today.”
Daniel took one step toward her.
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Of losing you.”
“You already lost me.”
His face tightened.
Mara looked away.
She wanted anger.
Instead, she felt exhausted.
“What did my father know?”
“I don't know everything.”
“You knew enough to hide it.”
“Yes.”
“Then start talking.”
Daniel glanced back at the restaurant.
“Not here.”
“Why?”
“Because Evelyn is still inside, and there are things I need to show you.”
Mara almost walked away.
Then she remembered the photograph.
The boy.
Daniel.
Her father's son.
She turned back.
“Fine.”
They drove to Daniel's apartment in silence.
He didn't try to touch her.
That almost made things worse.
When they arrived, Mara followed him upstairs.
The apartment looked exactly as it had the previous evening.
Books on the coffee table.
A jacket thrown over the back of a chair.
Two mugs in the kitchen.
Her favorite tea in the cupboard.
The familiar little details suddenly seemed staged.
She stood in the living room.
“How much of our relationship was real?”
Daniel looked wounded.
“All of it.”
“You knew my identity before we met.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“My father asked me to find you.”
Mara's head lifted.
“Your father?”
Daniel nodded.
“My father worked with yours.”
“Doing what?”
“Insurance investigations.”
Mara stared at him.
Daniel walked to a locked cabinet.
He took out a key.
“I was twenty-four when my father died. Before he died, he gave me a file.”
He opened the cabinet.
Inside were several folders.
One had her name.
Mara stepped closer.
“You kept a file on me?”
“Not like that.”
She looked at him.
“Daniel.”
“I know how it sounds.”
“Then don't tell me how it sounds. Tell me what it is.”
He opened the folder.
Inside were copies of old newspaper articles, photographs, legal documents, and handwritten notes.
Mara saw her childhood home.
Her father's car.
A photograph of the road where he had died.
Then she saw something that made her stop.
A receipt.
Dated two days before her father's death.
From a restaurant.
The same restaurant where Daniel had brought her today.
“What is this?”
“My father believed your father met someone there.”
“Who?”
“We never found out.”
Mara picked up another page.
There was a handwritten sentence across the top.
ASK WHO BENEFITED.
She looked at Daniel.
“What does that mean?”
“My father believed your father's death wasn't random.”
“And your father died too?”
Daniel nodded.
“Six months after yours.”
Mara slowly sat.
“What happened?”
“Car accident.”
“Another accident.”
“Yes.”
She stared at the documents.
“Do you think they were connected?”
“I don't know.”
“But you think they were.”
“I think someone wanted us to believe both men died for unrelated reasons.”
Mara looked at him.
“Who?”
Daniel hesitated.
“My father suspected someone inside the company.”
“Which company?”
“Bellweather Holdings.”
The name meant nothing to Mara.
Daniel noticed.
“Your father worked there.”
“No, he didn't.”
“He did.”
“My father was an accountant.”
“For Bellweather.”
Mara shook her head.
“My mother said he worked independently.”
“She lied.”
Mara closed her eyes.
Another lie.
Another piece of her childhood that had been carefully rearranged without her permission.
“Why would my mother lie?”
Daniel didn't answer immediately.
When he finally spoke, his voice was softer.
“Because she was scared.”
Mara opened her eyes.
“Of whom?”
“I don't know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it's true.”
She stood and walked toward the window.
Below, people moved along the sidewalk.
Nobody looked like someone hiding a secret.
Nobody looked dangerous.
She thought of her mother's house.
The locked drawer in the bedroom.
The old habit her mother had of checking the front window before answering the door.
Mara had always thought it was anxiety.
Maybe it had been something else.
Daniel came to stand several feet behind her.
“There was one thing my father couldn't prove.”
“What?”
“Your father was going to expose someone.”
“Who?”
“He never wrote the name down.”
“Why?”
“Because he thought the evidence was somewhere safe.”
Mara turned.
“Where?”
Daniel looked at her.
“With you.”
She frowned.
“I don't have anything.”
“You might.”
“What?”
“The thing your father left you.”
“My father left me nothing.”
Daniel shook his head.
“He did.”
Mara thought of her childhood.
Her bedroom.
Her father's study.
The old wooden box he had once told her never to throw away.
She suddenly remembered it.
A small metal tin.
She had kept it for years.
After her mother moved houses, the tin disappeared.
Or so Mara thought.
She rushed to her bedroom closet.
Daniel followed.
She pulled out an old storage box.
Inside were photographs, school certificates, childhood drawings, and letters.
Her hands moved quickly.
Nothing.
Then she saw a faded blue ribbon.
Underneath it was a small brass key.
Mara froze.
Daniel stared.
“That wasn't there before.”
“It was.”
She looked at him.
“My father gave me this when I was nine.”
“For what?”
“I don't remember.”
She turned the key over.
A number had been scratched into the metal.
17.
Daniel's face changed.
“What?”
“My father used that number.”
“For what?”
“I don't know.”
He reached for his father's old file.
Mara followed.
They searched through pages until Daniel stopped.
His finger rested on a photocopy of a handwritten ledger.
Several numbers appeared beside dates.
17.
Again.
And again.
Mara felt the room tilt.
“What's this?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“No.”
“You recognized it.”
Daniel looked at her.
“I recognized the handwriting.”
“Whose?”
“My father's.”
Silence.
Mara looked at the key.
Then the ledger.
“Where does seventeen lead?”
Daniel took a breath.
“I think I know.”
He went to his desk and opened an old map.
Several streets had been marked in pencil.
One location had a circle around it.
A storage facility.
Unit 17.
Mara stared.
“How long have you known about that?”
“Three months.”
“And you didn't tell me.”
“I wanted to make sure it was safe.”
“You wanted to decide for me.”
“Yes.”
She shook her head.
“That is exactly what everyone keeps doing.”
Daniel lowered his gaze.
“You're right.”
Mara picked up the key.
“I’m going.”
“I'll come with you.”
“No.”
“Mara—”
“If you knew this much before today, then I don't know what else you haven't told me.”
He swallowed.
“I won't stop you.”
She slipped the key into her pocket.
“Good.”
She walked toward the door.
Daniel remained behind.
“Mara.”
She stopped but didn't turn.
“There is something else.”
She closed her eyes.
Of course there was.
“What?”
“I think the person your father was investigating knows about Unit 17.”
She turned.
“How?”
“Because someone broke into my father's old office last night.”
Mara stared at him.
“What did they take?”
Daniel's expression hardened.
“Nothing.”
“Then why break in?”
“They left something.”
“What?”
“A photograph.”
“Of whom?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Your mother.”
Click Here to continue read next: PART3: Inside Unit Seventeen, Mara Finds Proof That Her Father Expected Someone Close to Her to Betray Them
She Smiled for the Photograph, Then Noticed the Envelope Hidden Beneath His Hand
Part 2 of 8
