Chapter 4 - DANIEL’S FATHER
I did not meet Daniel alone.
I brought Rebecca.
Daniel brought no one.
That surprised me.
We met in the lobby of a Jackson law office.
Public.
Cameras.
Daniel looked terrible.
No tuxedo.
No perfect hair.
Just a man who had slept badly after kneeling before the wrong woman.
Rebecca sat three chairs away.
Close enough to hear.
I said:
“Talk.”
Daniel looked at me for a long time.
“I did love you.”
Wrong opening.
“Your father.”
He flinched.
Then began.
Michael Reeves had been Blackridge’s internal accountant.
He signed the mineral-rights side agreement with my mother.
Three years later, Grant’s uncle pressured him to recant.
Why?
Blackridge wanted full control of the corridor.
Michael agreed.
In return:
Promotion.
Debt forgiveness.
House.
My stomach turned.
Daniel continued:
“He hated himself.”
“Did that kill him?”
“No.”
Michael died in a hunting accident.
Officially.
Daniel believed otherwise.
“Who?”
“Pinehaven.”
I stared.
“Nathaniel?”
“No. His father.”
That accusation needed evidence.
Daniel had none.
Only one thing.
Before Michael died, he told Daniel:
If anything happens, never let Mercers get Eleanor’s books.
Maybe fear.
Maybe truth.
Then Daniel confessed why he approached me eleven months earlier.
Not random.
He saw my surname in payroll.
Asked around.
Realized who my mother was.
My chest went cold.
“So every coffee—”
“Started because I wanted to know whether you had the ledger.”
There.
I looked away.
He continued quickly:
“Then it changed.”
“Did it?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever stop looking?”
Silence.
No.
That was the answer.
Then:
“Madeline’s family offered to back the new mining project.”
“And you were part of the deal.”
“My father’s estate owns a small Blackridge interest.”
“So choosing her increases your wealth.”
“Yes.”
Honest.
Then:
“They told me if I didn’t publicly break from you, the alliance collapsed.”
“And you did it.”
His face crumpled.
“I thought I could explain afterward.”
I laughed softly.
“After three hundred people watched.”
“I know.”
No.
He did not.
Then Daniel leaned closer.
“Grant thinks your mother hid the original agreement inside Pinehaven territory.”
“Why?”
“Because of the bracelet.”
Same clue.
“What is it?”
Daniel looked toward my wrist.
Empty.
“The pine-tree charm is actually a survey marker.”
I stared.
“No.”
“My father had one too.”
Matching charms.
Not sentimental jewelry.
Miniature replicas of an old forestry survey symbol.
Each contained engraved coordinates.
My bracelet was in my apartment.
Police evidence photos showed it.
Good.
Then Daniel said:
“There were three.”
“Three?”
“Your mother. My father. Nathaniel’s father.”
Witnesses.
Each held one coordinate?
Maybe.
Put together, they identified the location of the original agreement.
Then Rebecca asked:
“Where is Michael Reeves’s bracelet?”
Daniel’s face changed.
“Madeline has it.”
Of course.
The Cross family had acquired Michael’s estate debt after his death.
Including papers.
And apparently the bracelet.
Then:
“Nathaniel has his father’s.”
That meant the three people needed to locate the original were:
Me.
Madeline.
Nathaniel.
May you like
The gala had not been a romantic humiliation.
It was the opening move in a land war.
