“Oh God, Hannah.”
“I don’t know what you know yet, but you’ve been asking questions. Looking through records. You’re not pretending everything’s fine anymore.”
“I know about Brooke.”
My grip tightened around the phone. “How do you know that?”
“Because I notice people that no one else notices. You noticed me when I was sixteen. You were the only adult who ever talked to me like I mattered.” Hannah paused. “I think it’s my turn.”
“Tell me everything.”
An hour later, we were sitting across from each other at a small café.
“I’ve watched Brooke for years,” Hannah leaned closer. “You’ve been looking at Daniel.” She paused. “I think you’ve been watching the wrong man.”
My heart skipped. “What are you talking about?”
“I think it’s my turn.”
“I only have pieces. Not the whole story. But I checked the phone records. The disappearing message wasn’t sent to Daniel’s private number.”
“Then whose?”
“I think you already know.”
Hannah slid a folded printout across the table. “The number belongs to Richard.”
I stared at it. For a second, I forgot how to breathe. I wanted to tell myself Hannah was wrong.
Once she planted the idea in my head, I couldn’t stop watching.
“The number belongs to Richard.”
Richard laughed at Brooke’s jokes before anyone else. She always seemed to know exactly where he was in the room. He watched her when she wasn’t looking.
Sometimes she’d lean down to whisper something only he could hear. Other times, I’d catch them sharing a glance that lasted just a heartbeat too long.
Every moment, taken alone, meant nothing. Together…
I wasn’t so sure anymore.
I’d catch them sharing a glance.
***
Two weeks before Brooke’s birthday, I met Hannah. She had something for me.
“There’s more. I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Tell me.”
“That wire you couldn’t trace. Family Holdings.”
I sat down on the edge of the café sofa. “You know who’s behind it.”
Hannah nodded. “Brooke.”
“How do you know?”
“You know who’s behind it.”
“She convinced Daniel to move your father’s inheritance there. She told him it was temporary.”
“And it wasn’t?”
“It was all hers.”
I stared at her. “How did you find that?”
“She came into the office with the paperwork. I recognized the company name. After she left, I looked it up. It was all in Brooke’s name.”
I leaned back against the sofa. “When did he sign?”
“A few months ago. Before the photo. Before any of it.”
I closed my eyes. The hotel sweatshirt, the late nights, the casual assignments at every dinner.
None of it had been the betrayal. It had only hidden the real one.
“When did he sign?”
***
The next morning, I spread months of lies across my dining room table.
- Hotel receipts.
- Bank transfers.
- Conversations.
Every answer only led to another question.
Then I reached for Hannah’s envelope again. I read every page twice.
By the time I finished, I no longer needed revenge.
I wanted the truth to walk into the room before I did.
I spread months of lies across my dining room table.
I bought a black wooden box that afternoon. One by one, I placed everything inside. Then I stopped.
There was one last item still lying on the table.
I stared at it for a long time.
Hannah had almost apologized before handing it to me. “I hope I’m wrong.”
She wasn’t.
I picked it up carefully, slipped it into a plain white envelope, and tucked it beneath everything else.
I closed the lid. Tied the bow. And smiled for the first time in six months.
