Chapter 3 - The Cold Dinner
The motorized hum of the garage door sounded like a death knell.
Panic surged through my veins. I hastily shoved the autopsy report and the fake passports back into the leather binder, slid the drawer shut, and turned the key. My hands shook so violently that the key slipped from my fingers and skittered across the hardwood floor, vanishing beneath the radiator.
"Nora?" Daniel’s voice called out from the foyer. "Are you home?"
I froze. There was no time to search for the key. I kicked a stack of magazines closer to the radiator to hide the gap, stood up, smoothed my blouse, and walked into the hallway just as Daniel rounded the corner.
He looked exhausted. His tie was loosened, his hair slightly disheveled, and the sharp lines of his face were drawn tight with stress. But the moment his eyes landed on me, his signature warm smile flickered across his lips.
"Hey," he said, stepping forward to wrap his arms around me.
I held my breath. His coat smelled of cold autumn air and the faint, bitter scent of the espresso they brewed at the café next to that red-brick warehouse. I felt his heartbeat against my chest—steady, rhythmic, hiding a universe of secrets.
"You're home early," I said, forcing my voice into a tone of gentle curiosity. "Did the office quiet down?"
Daniel sighed, releasing me and tossing his keys onto the console table. "You have no idea. The regional audit is a nightmare. Everyone is running around like their hair is on fire. I had a pounding headache, so I told the director I was finishing the day from home."
He looked directly into my eyes without flinching. The lie slipped off his tongue with effortless grace.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "Why don't you shower? I'll make us some dinner."
"You're an angel," he whispered, kissing my forehead before walking upstairs.
While he was in the shower, I stood in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with robotic precision. The knife hit the cutting board with sharp, violent thuds. My mind was a storm of contradictory clues.
The passports suggested an affair and an escape. But the note on my father's autopsy report pointed toward something far more sinister. *Sterling covered it up.*
Victor Sterling was Daniel’s boss—the CEO and principal founder of Meridian Financial, and the very man who had once been my father’s most trusted business partner before the bankruptcy ruined our family.
At 7:00 PM, we sat down across from each other at the dining table. A plate of roasted chicken and vegetables sat between us.
"Daniel," I said softly, watching him cut his food.
"Hmm?"
"Do you ever think about Vivian?"
His fork paused millimeters above his plate. The casual ease on his face vanished, replaced by an instant, defensive rigidity.
"Where did that come from?" he asked, his tone measured.
"I don't know," I said, swirling the wine in my glass. "I was cleaning out the attic earlier and found an old photo album. I just wondered... if you ever crossed paths with her, would you even speak to her?"
Daniel lowered his fork slowly. His gaze darkened, filled with a heavy, protective sorrow. "Nora, that woman tore your family apart. She stole your mother's treatment money and broke your heart. If I ever saw her again, the only place I'd lead her is straight to a police station."
He said it with such raw conviction that, for a split second, I almost doubted what I had seen with my own eyes outside the warehouse. He was magnificent at this.
Suddenly, the harsh buzz of a phone vibrating against glass shattered the tension.
Daniel reached for his pocket, but the sound wasn't coming from his work phone on the table. It was coming from his briefcase by the door.
A sharp, rapid series of short vibrations. A burner phone.
Daniel stood up instantly, his chair scraping against the floor. "Excuse me for a second. That might be the server alerts from the tech team."
He walked briskly toward the hallway and picked up his briefcase, carrying it into the downstairs guest bathroom and locking the door behind him.
I didn't hesitate. I slipped off my socks and crept silently across the wood floor, pressing my ear against the bathroom door.
Through the crack beneath the frame, I heard Daniel’s hushed, urgent whisper.
May you like
"Vivian, calm down. What happened?... Did someone follow you?... No, do not go back to the safehouse. Sterling’s security team has already pinged the local servers... Meet me at the docks on Pier 14 at midnight. Bring the flash drive. We're running out of time."
***
