My sister's old office sat above a closed accounting firm on a quiet street.
I had not been there since her funeral.
The building smelled of dust and old paper.
The hallway lights flickered as I climbed the stairs.
I kept thinking about the message.
Go to the office before David does.
I didn't know whether to trust the sender.
But I trusted one thing.
My sister had hidden something.
And whatever it was, someone else wanted it badly enough to watch me search for it.
The office door was locked.
I still had an old key.
It took several attempts before the lock turned.
Inside, the air was stale.
A thin layer of dust covered the desk.
The blinds were closed.
Boxes remained stacked against the wall exactly as I remembered them.
For a moment, grief replaced suspicion.
My sister had sat behind that desk.
She had written notes here.
Made phone calls.
Planned birthdays.
Argued with insurance companies.
Lived a whole life in a room that now felt abandoned.
I walked toward the filing cabinet.
The locked drawer was on the bottom.
The key was still attached to the old ring.
It turned.
Inside were several envelopes.
A photograph.
A small notebook.
And a sealed letter with my name written across the front.
My hands began shaking.
I picked up the letter.
The handwriting was hers.
I knew it immediately.
I didn't open it.
Not yet.
Instead, I checked the photograph.
It showed me standing outside a grocery store.
I looked younger.
Beside me was my sister.
The photograph had been taken years before I met David.
On the back, my sister had written a date.
Nothing else.
The notebook contained names.
Dates.
Phone numbers.
Several pages had been crossed out.
Then I saw David's name.
My breath caught.
Beside it was a date.
The date was nearly a year before we met.
Under his name, my sister had written three words.
“Find out why.”
I sat down.
There were several entries beneath it.
Questions about his construction company.
Questions about a property.
Questions about Margaret.
And one line that made my stomach tighten.
“Clara must not know yet.”
I read it twice.
She had been investigating David before I ever met him.
Why?
I opened the next page.
There was a reference to a payment.
A substantial payment.
The recipient was not David.
It was the construction company.
Then another name appeared.
The same man from the photograph.
I recognized it now.
My sister had written his full name.
Daniel Price.
I knew that name.
Not personally.
But I had seen it on documents related to my sister's estate.
Daniel had been an adviser connected to the property.
I suddenly understood why the photograph mattered.
The meeting six months earlier had not been random.
David had been meeting Daniel.
And they had been discussing something tied to my family.
I opened the sealed letter.
The first line nearly broke me.
Clara, if you're reading this, something has happened that I hoped you'd never have to understand.
I stopped.
I pressed my fingers against my lips.
Then I continued.
My sister wrote that she had discovered financial irregularities involving the construction company.
She believed someone had been trying to acquire an interest in a property connected to our family.
She had refused.
Then she discovered that someone had begun asking questions about me.
My throat tightened.
She had not known whether David was directly involved.
But she had suspected he was connected.
She had written that if anything happened to her, I should not sign anything presented by people claiming it was for my protection.
I thought about the documents David had brought me.
My hands went cold.
The letter continued.
She had planned to speak with me.
She never got the chance.
I lowered the paper.
For several minutes, I couldn't move.
Then I heard footsteps outside.
I froze.
Someone stopped near the office door.
The handle moved.
I stood.
“Who's there?”
No answer.
The handle moved again.
I stepped backward.
Then the door opened.
David walked in.
I stared at him.
He looked exhausted.
“How did you know I was here?”
“I followed you.”
“No.”
“I followed the messages.”
My stomach dropped.
“You know about the messages?”
“Yes.”
“Who is sending them?”
He closed the door.
“I don't know.”
I held up the letter.
“Did you know about this?”
He looked at it.
His face changed.
“Yes.”
The answer was quiet.
I felt betrayed all over again.
“You knew my sister was investigating you.”
“I knew she had questions.”
“You knew she didn't trust you.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you come into my life?”
He looked down.
“I didn't know who you were when we first met.”
“You asked about my house before we met.”
His eyes lifted.
“Who told you that?”
“The truth.”
He took a breath.
“I was working for someone.”
“Who?”
He hesitated.
“Daniel.”
I felt sick.
“Daniel Price?”
“Yes.”
“What did he want?”
“Information.”
“About my family?”
“Yes.”
I stepped back.
“Why?”
David rubbed his face.
“Because there was a dispute over the property.”
“My property.”
“Eventually.”
“Eventually?”
He looked at me.
“That was the plan.”
I couldn't speak.
The room seemed too small.
“Did you choose me?”
“No.”
“Did you approach me because of the house?”
“At first, I was supposed to learn about the estate.”
“And then?”
“I met you.”
“That doesn't answer me.”
He swallowed.
“I stayed.”
“Why?”
“Because I fell in love with you.”
I wanted to believe him.
That was the most painful part.
He continued.
“I stopped working for Daniel.”
“When?”
“After a few months.”
“Then why were you still meeting him six months ago?”
David looked toward the letter.
“Because he threatened me.”
“With what?”
“My mother.”
I stared at him.
“Margaret?”
“No. My mother was involved separately.”
He shook his head.
“There were debts.”
“What kind?”
“Business debts.”
I remembered his mother's words.
The paperwork.
The house.
The savings.
Everything suddenly became more complicated.
“You still helped them.”
“I was trapped.”
“You had choices.”
“I know.”
That was the first thing he said that sounded like genuine remorse.
But remorse did not erase the harm.
I held up the letter.
“My sister knew.”
“Yes.”
“She was trying to protect me.”
“Yes.”
“And you still married into my family.”
“I never married you.”
“Not yet.”
He looked down.
“I know.”
A noise came from the hallway.
We both turned.
The door was open.
Nobody stood there.
David's face changed.
“Someone was here.”
“How do you know?”
“The drawer.”
I looked at it.
The notebook was still there.
But one envelope was missing.
The sealed letter remained in my hand.
The payment records were gone.
David crossed the room.
“Don't touch anything.”
I pulled the drawer shut.
“Someone came before us.”
He nodded.
I looked at him.
“Did you take the records?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
Neither of us knew.
My phone buzzed.
One final message appeared.
Now you know why David came.
But you still don't know why he stayed.
I stared at it.
Then I looked at David.
He had no answer.
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: David Finally Admitted the Part of His Past He Had Hidden From Me, and the Missing Records Pointed Toward a Betrayal Much Closer to Home
The Call That Was Never Supposed to Stay Open Revealed What My Fiancé Planned to Do After We Said Our Vows
Part 7 of 10
