Chapter 3 - DANIEL'S SECRETBy two in the morning, the Ashford mansion no longer felt like a home.
It felt like a crime scene.
Police moved through hallways that had been built for ambassadors, senators, movie stars, and people wealthy enough to believe ordinary rules were optional. Yellow evidence markers dotted the carpet outside the guest suite. Detectives questioned security staff in the library.
Victoria's father, Charles Sterling, had survived the gunshot.
Barely.
The bullet had passed through his upper shoulder.
Victoria's mother claimed she had been downstairs when it happened.
No one could find Victoria.
Clara sat alone at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee cooling between her palms.
Nathan entered.
His bow tie was gone. His tuxedo jacket had been sliced during the attack. A thin cut ran along his collarbone.
"You need stitches."
"It's nothing."
"That's what men say right before infections."
For the first time that night, his mouth almost moved into a smile.
Almost.
Then he sat across from her.
"Tell me about Daniel."
Clara looked down.
"You suddenly care?"
"I should have asked sooner."
"You didn't know."
"I should have."
That irritated her more.
"Why?"
"Because you've worked in my house for four years."
"I'm not family."
Nathan's eyes stayed on hers.
"No."
Something in his tone made her look away.
He continued.
"What did Daniel tell you before he disappeared?"
Clara hesitated.
Then she told him.
The phone call.
Daniel breathing too hard.
The strange warning.
Don't trust the family you work for.
Nathan absorbed the words without defending anyone.
"Anything else?"
"He asked me where Mom's old photographs were."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"Your mother?"
"Died six years ago."
"I'm sorry."
Clara shrugged.
She'd learned long ago that people said those words because silence felt uncomfortable.
Nathan understood the gesture.
He didn't repeat them.
"What photographs?"
"Boxes from when we were kids."
"Where are they?"
"In storage."
Nathan stood.
"We should get them."
Clara stared at him.
"At two-thirty in the morning?"
"If Daniel asked about them before disappearing, yes."
Marcus entered.
Nathan's expression hardened.
"No."
Marcus stopped.
"I need to explain."
"You've needed to explain for three years."
"I couldn't."
"You watched me bury an empty coffin for Natalie."
Clara looked at Nathan.
She hadn't known that.
Marcus's face tightened.
"I know."
"You stood beside me."
"Yes."
"And you knew she was alive."
"Not exactly."
"What does that mean?"
Marcus looked toward Natalie, who had entered behind him.
She answered.
"He knew someone pulled me from the wreck."
Marcus nodded.
"I didn't know where Natalie went afterward."
Nathan stared at him.
Marcus continued.
"Three years ago Charles Sterling approached me. He said Natalie had documents that could destroy both families. He offered money to make sure she stopped asking questions."
"You accepted."
"Yes."
Nathan looked disgusted.
"I needed him to believe I could be bought."
Marcus continued.
"I swapped the vehicle assigned to Natalie. The car Sterling's people sabotaged wasn't the one she originally had."
Natalie frowned.
"You knew about the brakes?"
"I knew they planned something. Not exactly what."
"Then why didn't you warn me?"
"Because there was another leak. Every move I made got back to them."
Nathan looked at his mother.
Marcus followed his gaze.
"It wasn't Evelyn."
"Who?"
Marcus hesitated.
"Daniel believed it was someone close to Richard."
Richard entered behind them.
"You keep talking about me like I'm not here."
Marcus turned.
"For twenty years, Charles Sterling has been buying influence inside your company."
Richard's face darkened.
"Impossible."
"Your chief financial officer worked for him."
Richard froze.
"Howard?"
"Yes."
Clara knew Howard Greer.
Polite.
Soft-spoken.
Sixty years old.
He sent Christmas gifts to every staff member.
Nathan swore quietly.
Marcus said, "Daniel discovered it."
Clara stood.
"How?"
"Because Daniel wasn't only a driver."
Marcus looked at her.
"He was working for the FBI."
Clara laughed.
Nobody else did.
She stopped.
"You're serious."
"He became a confidential source."
"My brother?"
"He got arrested for illegal gambling eighteen months before he disappeared. The charges vanished because he agreed to cooperate."
Clara's face burned.
Daniel had told her the case was dismissed because police made a mistake.
"He lied to me."
"To protect you."
"Stop saying that!"
Everyone went silent.
Clara hit the counter with her palm.
"People keep deciding what I should know because they're protecting me. Daniel protected me. Natalie disappeared to protect people. Evelyn hid things to protect Nathan. Marcus lied to everybody to protect Natalie. And look where all that protection got us."
No one answered.
Clara grabbed her coat.
"I'm going to the storage unit."
Nathan followed.
"I'm coming."
She didn't argue.
The storage facility sat forty minutes outside Manhattan.
Marcus drove separately.
Natalie stayed at the mansion under police protection.
At 3:37 a.m., Clara unlocked Unit 218.
Dusty cardboard boxes filled the space.
Nathan removed his jacket.
Clara raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"That's an eight-thousand-dollar tuxedo."
"Was."
Together they searched.
Twenty minutes later, Clara found the box.
MOM — PHOTOS.
Inside were years of birthdays, school pictures, beach trips, Christmas mornings.
Nathan picked up one photograph.
Clara and Daniel as teenagers beside their mother.
"She looks like you."
Clara smiled faintly.
"Everyone said Daniel looked like Dad and I looked like Mom."
Nathan studied another photograph.
Then stopped.
"Clara."
She turned.
He held up an old Polaroid.
Her mother stood beside a much younger Richard Ashford.
Clara stared.
"What the hell?"
Richard looked maybe thirty-five.
Her mother, twenty-something.
On the back, written in her mother's handwriting:
Richard — Chicago, 1998. Thank you for keeping your promise. — Anna
Nathan sat down slowly.
"Your mother knew my father."
Clara felt dizzy.
She dug deeper.
At the bottom of the box was a sealed envelope.
Her name was written across it.
CLARA — ONLY IF DANIEL DOESN'T COME HOME.
Her hands started shaking.
Nathan moved closer but didn't touch it.
"You don't have to open it now."
"Yes, I do."
She tore the envelope.
Inside was a key.
And a handwritten note from Daniel.
C, if you're reading this, I failed. Mom didn't spend fifteen years cleaning offices because she was poor. She was hiding. Richard Ashford knows why. Don't hate him until you know everything. Locker 317. Grand Central. Password is the place Dad proposed.
Clara read it twice.
Nathan whispered, "Where did your father propose?"
"Coney Island."
Before they could leave, lights outside the unit switched off.
Marcus drew his gun.
"Stay behind me."
Footsteps approached.
Nathan grabbed Clara.
A shadow appeared.
Then another.
Three men.
Marcus shouted, "Police are already on the way."
A voice answered.
"No, they're not."
Clara knew that voice.
Howard Greer.
The Ashford CFO stepped into the light.
He was holding a gun.
"Give me Daniel's letter."
Nathan moved in front of Clara.
Howard sighed.
"This doesn't concern you."
Nathan laughed coldly.
"You broke into my employee's storage unit with armed men."
Howard smiled.
"Your employee?"
Clara felt Nathan stiffen.
Howard continued.
"You still haven't figured it out."
"Figured what out?"
Howard looked at Clara.
"Why Richard Ashford paid for your mother's medical care."
Clara's blood ran cold.
"What?"
"Why Daniel got into Ashford buildings without background checks."
Nathan stared at Howard.
Howard smiled wider.
"Why your father has watched Clara Morgan from a distance for almost thirty years."
Clara whispered, "What are you saying?"
Howard raised the gun.
"I'm saying Richard Ashford isn't the only man in that family who has been lying."
A siren sounded outside.
Howard's smile vanished.
Marcus had lied about the police not coming.
Howard fired.
Marcus fired back.
The storage facility erupted into chaos.
Nathan dragged Clara behind concrete shelving.
Gunshots cracked.
One of Howard's men fell.
Howard ran.
Police vehicles flooded the driveway.
Minutes later, he was gone.
But he had left something behind.
His phone.
On the cracked screen was a message received thirty seconds earlier.
VICTORIA: I HAVE DANIEL. BRING CLARA TO PIER 19. COME ALONE.
May you like
Clara stared at the message.
Her brother was alive.
Related Stories
