Chapter 3 - BLACKWOOD
My father had always told me our family wasn't wealthy.
Comfortable, yes.
Successful, perhaps.
But never wealthy.
Yet Evelyn was now telling me that my father had created a trust worth millions.
I felt like I had spent my entire life inside a story someone else had written.
“Who is Blackwood?”
Evelyn closed the folder.
“Your father borrowed money from them twenty years ago.”
“For what?”
“To protect your family.”
I frowned.
“From whom?”
She looked toward Marcus.
“That's complicated.”
Marcus laughed bitterly.
“This is ridiculous.”
Evelyn ignored him.
“Your father owned a development company.”
“I knew about that.”
“You didn't know he was investigating financial fraud within it.”
My chest tightened.
“What kind of fraud?”
“Money laundering.”
Camille suddenly stepped forward.
“That's enough.”
Evelyn turned.
“You don't get to decide when we're finished.”
Camille's eyes narrowed.
“You're threatening me.”
“No.”
Evelyn smiled.
“I'm reminding you.”
Marcus suddenly grabbed Camille's arm.
“We need to leave.”
Camille pulled away.
“You said everything was handled.”
Marcus whispered:
“It was.”
“No,” Evelyn said.
“It wasn't.”
She held up the flash drive.
“Because your biggest mistake was assuming the original records were destroyed.”
Camille went silent.
I looked between them.
“What records?”
Evelyn answered.
“Records showing that your husband's affair wasn't simply an affair.”
My stomach turned.
“What do you mean?”
“Camille didn't meet Marcus by accident.”
I stared at her.
Evelyn continued.
“She approached him.”
Camille's face went pale.
“She knew about the trust.”
She knew about the property.
She knew about your father's assets.
And she knew exactly how to manipulate your husband.
Marcus looked at Camille.
“You told me you loved me.”
Camille laughed.
“You were useful.”
The words destroyed him.
For the first time, Marcus looked at me.
“Naomi…”
I stepped away.
“Don't.”
He swallowed.
“I made mistakes.”
“You planned to steal my home.”
“I thought—”
“You thought I would never find out.”
He lowered his head.
Evelyn gathered the documents.
“There's still one thing you don't know.”
“What?”
She looked toward the hallway.
“Your father wasn't the only person investigating Blackwood.”
“Who else?”
Evelyn's answer was almost a whisper.
“Your mother.”
I froze.
“My mother died when I was twelve.”
“Yes.”
Evelyn looked at me.
May you like
“And according to the records…”
“She didn't.”
