Chapter 4 - THE HUSBAND WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
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I stared at the photograph until the faces blurred.
My father looked older than I remembered, his dark hair threaded with silver. He stood beside a warehouse entrance, one hand resting on Dorian's shoulder.
Dorian was barely twenty-five.
He looked almost gentle.
The date on the photograph was impossible.
"My father died when I was twelve," I said.
Blythe didn't answer.
"His funeral was open-casket."
"Was it?" she asked quietly. "Or did your mother tell you that the body had been prepared privately because of the condition he was in?"
The memory struck me with painful clarity.
My mother had insisted I stay upstairs. I remembered a closed door, the smell of lilies, and relatives telling me that I should remember my father as he had been.
I had never seen his face after his death.
I gripped the desk.
"Why would my mother lie to me?"
"Maybe she was protecting you."
"From whom?"
Blythe glanced toward the hallway.
"Your husband."
The door opened before I could respond.
Dorian entered alone.
"Leave us," he ordered.
Blythe remained where she stood.
"I think Audra deserves the truth."
Dorian's expression became lethal.
"And I think you have forgotten who pays your salary."
She looked at me, then walked out.
Dorian closed the door.
"Give me the letter."
"No."
"Audra."
"You have spent ten months sleeping with that woman, giving her my mother's belongings, and letting her search my family's records. Now you want to pretend this is a private disagreement between husband and wife?"
He looked exhausted suddenly.
"You don't understand what you're reading."
"Then explain it."
He stared at the photograph.
For a long moment, I thought he might finally tell me everything.
Instead, he said, "Your father was involved in business with my father. There were transactions you were never meant to know about."
"Was he alive in this photograph?"
Dorian's jaw tightened.
"Yes."
The single word nearly knocked me backward.
"How long did he live?"
"I don't know."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I was twenty-five. My father controlled everything. I was told your father had disappeared after a dispute."
"Yet you married his daughter."
His eyes lifted to mine.
"That was never a coincidence."
The room went silent.
"What does that mean?"
Dorian moved toward the window.
"I met you before I knew who your father was. By the time I learned the truth, I was already in love with you."
"And you married me anyway?"
"Yes."
"Did you ever intend to tell me?"
He didn't answer.
I laughed, but the sound came out broken.
"You built our marriage on a secret you knew could destroy me."
"I was trying to protect you."
"From your own family?"
"From everyone who wanted what your father left behind."
I held up the photograph.
"Then why was Blythe searching for it?"
His expression changed.
Because that was the question he couldn't answer without exposing himself.
Finally, he said, "Your father left something more valuable than money. Something people have killed to obtain."
"What?"
Before he could speak, his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen and answered.
"What?"
A man's urgent voice came through the speaker.
Dorian listened for three seconds.
Then every trace of color disappeared from his face.
"Lock down the estate," he ordered. "Nobody leaves."
He ended the call and looked at me.
"Your father has been found."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"Where?"
Dorian swallowed.
"At the hospital."
"Is he alive?"
May you like
His silence lasted one second too long.
"Audra, someone has tried to kill him."
