Chapter 8: The Truth My Father Took to His Grave
For the next forty-eight hours, I barely left Bennett Holdings.
The warehouse documents were transferred to the legal team.
The suspicious accounts were frozen.
And Leonard Cross agreed to provide a formal statement.
But the sentence he had spoken kept replaying in my mind.
Your father died knowing someone in that house had betrayed him.
On the third morning, Daniel arrived with a sealed envelope.
“Camille, Leonard has provided additional information.””
I looked up.
“What information?””
“He claims your father left behind a recorded statement.””
I stood.
“A recording?””
“Yes. It was stored in the company's old legal archive.””
“Why wasn't it included in the original estate review?””
Daniel placed the envelope on the desk.
“Because it was registered under a restricted access code. Leonard says your father instructed him not to release it until the estate's ownership was challenged.””
I stared at the envelope.
“Can we watch it?””
Daniel nodded.
“The archive team has recovered the file.””
He placed a laptop on the table.
Then he opened a video.
The screen flickered.
And my father appeared.
He was sitting in his study.
The same study where I had spent countless afternoons drawing butterflies.
He looked tired.
His face was thinner than I remembered.
But his eyes were clear.
“Camille,” he began.
My breath caught.
I sat down.
“My darling girl. If you're watching this, then something has gone wrong.””
I covered my mouth.
He continued.
“I want you to know that I love you. Nothing that happens after this changes that.””
He paused.
“I've discovered that money has been transferred from the company without authorization. I've also discovered that some of the original business records have been altered.””
I stared at the screen.
My father leaned closer to the camera.
“I don't know how much has been taken. But I know who has been helping.””
He looked down at a document.
Then he said a name.
“Leonard Cross.””
I froze.
Daniel made a note.
My father continued.
“Leonard was supposed to protect the company. Instead, he helped create accounts that concealed the transfers.””
I looked at Daniel.
He nodded grimly.
Then my father said something that made my entire body go cold.
“But Leonard was not acting alone.””
He looked directly into the camera.
“Vanessa knew.””
I felt tears slide down my face.
“She knew about the accounts. She knew about the documents. And when I confronted her, she told me that she had done it for Brielle.””
My father sighed.
“I wanted to believe she could be reasoned with. I wanted to believe that the woman I married would never deliberately hurt my daughter.””
He paused.
“But I was wrong.””
I gripped the edge of the table.
“Camille, if you are hearing this, I need you to understand something. None of this was your fault.””
He took a breath.
“Do not blame yourself for what happened to me. Do not spend your life trying to understand why people betray the people who trust them.””
His eyes softened.
“You have a future, Camille. A beautiful one. I hope you build something that makes you happy.””
The recording ended.
I sat motionless.
The room seemed impossibly quiet.
Daniel waited.
Finally, I whispered:
“Was he ill when he made this?””
“Yes.””
“How long before he died?””
“According to the archive metadata, approximately three weeks.””
I closed my eyes.
Three weeks.
My father had known.
He had been preparing to protect me while I was busy believing everything was normal.
I remembered those final weeks.
His tired smile.
The way he had squeezed my hand.
The way Vanessa had insisted he needed rest and privacy.
And the evening she told me he was too tired to see me.
I had believed her.
I had believed her because she was his wife.
And because I had wanted our family to remain a family.
I wiped my eyes.
“Daniel, I want the investigation expanded.””
“Already underway.””
“And I want every person who participated in the transfers identified.””
He nodded.
“Understood.””
At four o'clock, Brielle arrived at the office.
She looked exhausted.
Her hair was tied into a loose ponytail.
Her makeup was gone.
For the first time in years, she wasn't wearing anything expensive.
She stood in the doorway holding a folder.
“Can I come in?””
I looked at her.
“Yes.””
She sat opposite me.
For a few seconds, she didn't speak.
Then she placed the folder on the desk.
“I found these in Mother's bedroom.””
I opened it.
Inside were bank statements, company registration forms, and correspondence between Vanessa and Leonard.
I read the first letter.
Then the second.
My stomach tightened.
One message from Vanessa read:
Camille is too distracted by her designs to notice the company transfers. Once the new ownership arrangement is completed, there will be nothing left for her to challenge.
Another message was addressed to Leonard.
Make sure the old signature files are destroyed. Daniel must never discover the second account.
I looked up.
“Why are you giving me these?””
Brielle's eyes filled with tears.
“Because I don't want to become her.””
I stared at her.
She looked down.
“I know I did terrible things. I know I took your dress. I know I lied about being selected for the gala.””
She swallowed.
“But I didn't know about the money.””
I closed the folder.
“Brielle, not knowing about the money doesn't excuse everything else.””
“I know.””
“You humiliated me.””
“I know.””
“You laughed when Vanessa shoved me.””
Her eyes dropped.
“I know.””
I leaned back.
“Why?””
She began crying.
“Because I thought if I was the favorite, nobody could hurt me.””
I stared at her.
She continued.
“Mother always told me you were the reason things were difficult. She said your father gave you everything. She said I had to fight for my place.””
I shook my head.
“Your place wasn't mine to take.””
“I know that now.””
She wiped her cheeks.
“I thought the gown would make people admire me. I thought if I wore something designed by Asteria, I would finally matter.””
I looked at her for a long moment.
“Did it?””
She shook her head.
“No.””
Silence settled between us.
Then she asked:
“Will you ever forgive me?””
I looked at the folder.
“I don't know.””
Her face fell.
“But I appreciate that you brought me these documents.””
She nodded slowly.
“I understand.””
She stood.
At the door, she turned around.
“Camille?””
“Yes?””
“Mother told me something else.””
I waited.
“She said Dad had planned to change his will.””
My fingers went cold.
“When?””
“Shortly before he died.””
“Did she say why?””
Brielle hesitated.
“She said he wanted to remove her from the trust.””
I nodded.
“I know.””
Brielle shook her head.
“No. You don't understand.””
She stepped closer.
“She said he was going to tell you something about your mother.””
I went still.
“My mother?””
Brielle nodded.
“She said your father had hidden something about her for years.””
I felt my pulse quicken.
“What exactly did Vanessa say?””
Brielle looked toward the door.
“She said your mother hadn't died the way everyone believed.””
That evening, I returned to the mansion.
For three years, I had avoided my mother's old bedroom.
Vanessa had turned it into a storage room.
The furniture was covered in white sheets.
Boxes were stacked against the walls.
The curtains had faded.
But the room still smelled faintly of lavender.
My mother had died when I was thirteen.
At least, that was what my father had told me.
A car accident.
A rainy road.
A hospital.
A funeral.
I remembered very little.
I had been too young to understand.
And afterward, my father had rarely spoken about her.
I walked toward the wardrobe.
Inside was a small wooden jewelry box.
I recognized it immediately.
My mother used to keep her favorite necklace inside.
I opened it.
The necklace was still there.
A silver butterfly with a tiny blue stone.
Beneath it was a folded photograph.
I opened it.
My mother stood beside a woman I didn't recognize.
They were smiling in front of a building.
On the back, someone had written:
For Camille, when the time is right.
I turned the photograph over again.
The woman beside my mother looked familiar.
Not because I had met her.
Because I had seen her somewhere recently.
I searched my phone.
Then I opened the gala's guest database.
I found the photograph.
And there she was.
The woman beside my mother was Eleanor Harrington.
Alexander's mother.
My hands began to shake.
Why had my mother been with Eleanor?
And why had my father hidden the photograph?
I called Alexander.
He answered immediately.
“Camille?””
“Alexander, I need to ask you something.””
“What is it?””
“Did your mother know mine?””
Silence.
Then he said:
“Yes.””
My breath caught.
“How well?””
“Very well.””
“How?””
He hesitated.
“Camille, I think we should talk in person.””
“Why?””
“Because there's something about your mother's accident that my family has never told you.””
I gripped the photograph.
“What?””
May you like
His voice dropped.
“Your mother was supposed to meet my father the night she died.””
