Chapter 3 - THE HUSBAND WHO MARRIED ME FOR A KEY
For three years, Derek had told me my mother died because her heart was weak.
Now he was standing in front of me, admitting his family had arranged her death.
I couldn't breathe.
"What did you say?"
Derek stared at the floor.
"Emily—"
"Look at me."
My voice surprised even me.
He lifted his eyes.
"Did your father kill my mother?"
Alexander moved closer, but he didn't interrupt.
Derek swallowed.
"My father gave the order. I didn't know until afterward."
I stood so quickly the chair scraped against the floor.
"You knew?"
His silence answered.
I remembered the funeral.
Derek standing beside me.
Holding my hand.
Telling me I wasn't alone.
He'd brought flowers every week afterward.
He'd listened while I cried.
And all that time, he'd known.
I felt sick.
"Why did you marry me?"
Derek looked toward Alexander.
"I was supposed to find the key."
The room seemed to tilt.
Alexander's expression hardened.
"Who sent you?"
"My father."
"Name."
"Richard Hayes."
Alexander went still.
Richard Hayes.
I recognized it immediately.
Derek had told me his father died years earlier.
He'd never mentioned the surname because Derek used his mother's maiden name.
Alexander slowly exhaled.
"Richard Hayes was my father's chief financial officer."
Derek nodded.
"He still controls the hidden accounts."
I stared at them.
"Then what does that have to do with me?"
Alexander turned toward me.
"Your father uncovered evidence that Richard was diverting millions through shell companies."
"And?"
"Jonathan copied the records before confronting him."
I remembered my mother refusing to sell the wooden box.
Even when we couldn't pay rent.
Even when our electricity was disconnected.
She'd guarded it like treasure.
Now I understood why.
But there was something else I needed to know.
"Why did Derek wait three years?"
Alexander looked toward him.
Derek's face tightened.
"Because the box wasn't where I expected."
My hands went cold.
He'd searched our apartment.
My drawers.
My clothes.
Even my mother's old letters.
Suddenly, memories became clearer.
The nights he insisted I sleep while he stayed awake.
The way he became furious whenever I visited my mother's storage unit.
The missing documents I'd blamed on myself.
He hadn't been controlling me because he was jealous.
He'd been searching.
I looked at Alexander.
"I want to leave."
He nodded immediately.
"All right."
Derek stepped forward.
"You can't!"
Alexander's security officers blocked him.
I looked at my husband.
For the first time, I didn't apologize.
"I'm leaving."
Derek's face twisted.
"You'll regret this."
Alexander's voice turned cold.
"No more threats."
Then Marcus entered with two police officers who had responded to the security team's call.
Derek was escorted away for questioning about the assault and threats.
But as he passed the doorway, he looked over his shoulder.
His expression suddenly became strangely calm.
"Emily," he said softly, "you should ask Moretti what happened to your father's body."
I froze.
Alexander went rigid.
Derek smiled.
"Because Jonathan Carter wasn't buried in that coffin."
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Then he added:
"And Alexander knows why."
