Chapter 7
My father stayed silent for so long that I thought the call had disconnected.
Then he cleared his throat.
"Adrian, you're emotional."
I closed my eyes.
"Answer the question."
He sighed.
"That woman has always been trouble."
I felt anger rise.
"Her name is Serena."
"She's manipulating you."
I looked at Lily's photograph.
"Is my daughter manipulating me too?"
Silence.
Then my father spoke sharply.
"Don't be ridiculous."
I stood.
"Did you know Serena was pregnant?"
He hesitated.
"Adrian—"
"Yes or no?"
A long pause.
Then he whispered, "Yes."
The word hit me like a hammer.
I gripped the edge of my desk.
"You knew."
He sighed.
"I was protecting you."
My chest tightened.
"From what?"
"From a mistake."
I couldn't breathe.
"My daughter is not a mistake."
He raised his voice.
"You were about to inherit responsibilities you didn't understand!"
I stared at the wall.
"What responsibilities?"
"The company. The family name. Everything your grandfather built."
I shook my head.
"So you stole five years of my daughter's life?"
"Don't exaggerate."
I felt something inside me snap.
"Five years!"
My voice echoed through the office.
"Five years of birthdays. Five years of bedtime stories. Five years of being her father!"
My father went silent.
I took a shaky breath.
"Did you forge my signature?"
He didn't answer.
"Did you send Serena that letter?"
Silence.
I closed my eyes.
"Did you threaten her?"
Finally, he whispered, "Victor handled the details."
My stomach turned.
There it was.
Not a denial.
Not confusion.
An admission that Victor had acted on his behalf.
I sat down slowly.
For years, I'd believed my father was strict but loyal.
Cold sometimes.
Controlling.
But ultimately devoted to family.
Now I was hearing him justify taking my child away from me.
I looked at the framed photograph on my desk.
My mother smiling beside me at my college graduation.
I took a breath.
"Dad, I found Mom's letter."
The silence changed.
This time, I could hear his breathing.
"What letter?"
"The one she left with Mrs. Jenkins."
He didn't respond.
I continued.
"I know about the trust."
My father's voice hardened.
"Adrian, be very careful."
I felt a chill.
"Is that a threat?"
"No. It's advice."
I stared at the phone.
"Then here's some advice for you."
He said nothing.
"Do not contact Serena or Lily."
"Adrian—"
"Do not send Victor near them."
"You're making a terrible mistake."
I took a breath.
"And do not try to control what I learn about my mother's money."
His voice became cold.
"You have no idea what you're dealing with."
I closed my eyes.
"Then I guess it's time I found out."
I ended the call.
My hands were shaking.
For several minutes, I sat alone.
Then I called Camille.
I told her everything.
She listened carefully.
"Did you record the call?" she asked.
"No."
"That's okay. Write down what was said while it's fresh."
I did.
Every word I could remember.
Then Camille advised me to keep future communication documented and avoid direct confrontation.
I agreed.
I wasn't going to let anger ruin the investigation.
Over the next several weeks, the financial review continued.
The forensic accountant found evidence that my mother's trust had been used to support business ventures without clear authorization.
Some funds appeared to have been returned.
Others remained unaccounted for.
The records were complex.
But one thing became increasingly clear.
My father had not told me the truth about the trust.
Camille began preparing legal action to obtain a full accounting.
Meanwhile, Victor's role became clearer.
He had signed several documents.
Witnessed others.
And communicated with Serena during the period when she disappeared.
The evidence raised serious questions about whether he had helped create false records.
I felt sick every time I saw his name.
But I kept reminding myself to focus on facts.
I wanted justice.
Not chaos.
During that time, I spent every possible moment with Lily.
We went to the zoo.
The aquarium.
The library.
We baked cookies.
We built a cardboard castle in Serena's living room.
And every evening, Lily asked the same question.
"Daddy, are you coming tomorrow?"
At first, I answered with a smile.
"Of course."
Then I realized she wasn't just asking about the next day.
She was asking whether I would disappear.
I began giving her clear plans.
"I'll pick you up after school on Friday."
"I'll call before bedtime."
"I'll see you Sunday morning."
And I kept every promise.
Slowly, she stopped asking so anxiously.
She began trusting that I would return.
One evening, Serena watched us building a puzzle.
Lily was sitting in my lap.
She held a piece shaped like a star.
"Daddy, where does this go?"
I studied the puzzle.
"Maybe right here."
She tried it.
It fit.
She cheered.
Serena laughed.
For a moment, everything felt simple.
Then Lily ran to get another puzzle.
Serena looked at me.
"You're good with her."
I smiled sadly.
"I wish I'd had five more years to practice."
Her expression softened.
"You're here now."
I nodded.
But I still carried anger.
Not toward Serena.
Toward the people who stole those years.
I looked at her.
"Do you think we can ever trust each other again?"
She hesitated.
"I don't know."
I appreciated the honesty.
She continued.
"I loved you, Adrian."
My throat tightened.
"I loved you too."
She looked down.
"I spent years believing you'd rejected me."
I closed my eyes.
"And I spent years believing you left because you didn't love me."
We sat quietly.
Then she whispered, "Maybe we need time."
I nodded.
"We have time."
For the first time, those words felt like a gift.
That night, Camille called.
Her voice was serious.
"Adrian, we found another document."
My stomach tightened.
"What kind?"
"A report related to your mother's medical treatment."
I stood.
"What report?"
"It appears she had been experiencing symptoms before the lake house incident."
I felt cold.
"Symptoms?"
"Chest pain and dizziness."
I closed my eyes.
"Did anyone know?"
Camille paused.
"Your father was listed as the emergency contact."
My heart pounded.
She continued.
"We need to obtain the full records before drawing conclusions."
I nodded.
Then she said something that made my stomach drop.
"Adrian, there's also a note indicating your mother requested help leaving the property that day."
I stared at the wall.
"What?"
"The available record suggests she called someone before emergency services arrived."
My hands went cold.
"Who did she call?"
Camille took a breath.
May you like
"Victor Hale."
And suddenly, the mystery surrounding my mother's final hours became impossible to ignore.
