Chapter 4 - Someone Had Been Living as Evan Hart
The letter destroyed what little certainty I had left.
I read it six times.
Every word looked like Adrian’s handwriting.
The same slanted letters.
The same unnecessary loops in his capital S.
But one fact remained impossible.
Fern had not been named until two hours after she was born.
Adrian had supposedly died three months earlier.
“Did he know your grandmother’s name?” Stellan asked.
“No.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever discuss baby names?”
“We didn’t even know I was pregnant when he died.”
Helena looked at me sharply.
“You discovered the pregnancy afterward?”
“Six days afterward.”
For the first time, she appeared genuinely unsettled.
Stellan noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That expression has never meant nothing.”
Helena walked toward the windows.
“Adrian called me three weeks before the crash.”
“You already said that.”
“He asked something strange.”
“What?”
“He asked whether I remembered your grandmother.”
I frowned.
“My grandmother?”
Helena turned toward me.
“No. Ours.”
Stellan’s expression tightened.
“Fern Cross.”
Helena nodded.
I stared between them.
“Your grandmother was named Fern?”
“Our paternal grandmother,” Stellan said. “Fern Cross.”
The room went silent.
I looked toward my daughter.
“What are the chances?”
“Not good,” Stellan said.
Helena’s face had gone pale.
“Adrian told me if he ever had a daughter, he wanted to name her after Grandmother Fern.”
My chest tightened.
I sank into a chair.
“He never told me.”
“Perhaps he intended to.”
“But I chose the same name.”
Nobody had an explanation.
That was somehow worse.
Stellan took the letter back.
“Who delivered this?”
“My attorney said it arrived through a delayed legal instruction.”
“From whom?”
“Adrian.”
“When was it arranged?”
“Fourteen months ago.”
Stellan folded the letter.
“So Adrian planned for it to be delivered only if something triggered the release.”
Helena nodded.
“What triggered it?”
“A search request.”
“For what?”
“Selene Hart.”
I looked up.
“Who searched for me?”
Helena reached into her bag and produced another page.
“A private investigative company accessed an old sealed file two days ago.”
Stellan took it.
His eyes hardened.
“Which company?”
“Northbridge.”
Stellan looked at Darius, who had been standing near the doorway.
“Who owns Northbridge?”
Darius hesitated.
“That’s complicated.”
“Make it simple.”
“A shell corporation.”
“Owned by?”
“Vale Holdings.”
Something changed in Stellan.
Helena whispered, “So he’s still looking.”
“Who?” I asked.
Nobody answered.
I stood.
“I’m getting tired of being the only person in the room who doesn’t know what’s happening.”
Stellan turned toward me.
“Marcus Vale.”
“Who is Marcus Vale?”
“My father’s former partner.”
“Former?”
“My father tried to kill him.”
That was not the answer I expected.
“Why?”
“Because Marcus tried to take control of the organization after my father became ill.”
Helena added, “And because Marcus believed Adrian had stolen something.”
“The blue ledger.”
“Yes.”
Stellan looked at his mother.
“You knew about it all along.”
“I knew it existed.”
“You helped Adrian disappear because of it.”
“Yes.”
“And then allowed me to believe he was dead.”
Her voice broke slightly.
“I believed a dead man could not be hunted.”
Stellan laughed once without humor.
“You believed grief was acceptable collateral damage.”
“I believed you would survive grief.”
“You weren’t as certain Adrian would survive Marcus.”
Helena said nothing.
That silence was an answer.
Within an hour, Stellan turned the estate into a command center.
Names appeared on screens.
Property records.
Phone logs.
Banking histories.
Old photographs.
I sat near Fern while men searched for anything connected to “Evan Hart.”
At first there was almost nothing.
A driver’s license.
A lease.
A bank account.
A payroll record from Lakefront Logistics.
All created within the same thirty-day period.
Then Darius found something.
“Vehicle registration.”
Stellan looked over.
“What?”
“The car from the accident.”
I stood.
Darius enlarged a document.
The black sedan Adrian had driven when he died was not registered to Evan Hart.
It was registered to a woman named Marissa Lane.
“Who is she?” I asked.
Darius typed.
A photograph appeared.
I knew her.
“Oh my God.”
Stellan turned.
“You recognize her?”
“She was Adrian’s coworker.”
“Under which name?”
“Evan.”
I moved closer to the screen.
Marissa had visited our apartment twice.
She was funny.
Loud.
Red hair.
She brought wine.
She once joked that Evan was too serious to deserve me.
“She attended his funeral,” I whispered.
Stellan stared at the screen.
“What funeral?”
“The one in Milwaukee.”
“You attended a funeral?”
“Yes.”
“You told me the remains weren’t viewable.”
“They weren’t.”
My stomach dropped.
Closed casket.
A grieving girlfriend.
A handful of coworkers I barely knew.
A priest who mispronounced his middle name.
I suddenly remembered something.
Marissa had organized everything.
The hospital calls.
The transportation.
The funeral home.
“She handled the arrangements.”
Stellan looked toward Darius.
“Find her.”
Darius typed rapidly.
Then stopped.
“What?”
“She died.”
Of course she had.
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
“How?”
“Apartment fire.”
Stellan leaned against the desk.
“Convenient.”
I hugged myself.
Everyone connected to Adrian’s second life seemed to disappear.
“Was she married?”
Darius searched.
“No.”
“Family?”
“A sister.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Chicago.”
Stellan picked up his jacket.
I stepped forward.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Selene.”
“She knew him.”
“Which is exactly why you’re not coming.”
“She might talk to me.”
“She might also recognize you and contact whoever has been searching for you.”
I looked at him.
“I spent a year with the man. If you walk into her house asking questions, you’re Stellan Cross. You think people tell you the truth when they’re afraid?”
His eyes narrowed.
“Some do.”
“They tell you what keeps them alive.”
That made Darius look away, possibly hiding a smile.
Stellan noticed.
“Something amusing?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I folded my arms.
“I’m coming.”
Twenty minutes later, I was in the back of Stellan’s SUV.
It was the first argument with him I won.
I suspected he allowed it.
Marissa’s sister lived in a modest brick house on the northwest side.
Her name was Caroline.
She opened the door, saw me, and immediately tried to close it.
Stellan blocked the door with one hand.
“We’re not here to hurt you.”
Caroline stared at him.
“That’s what dangerous men always say.”
I stepped forward.
“Caroline, please.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“You know me?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Marissa showed me pictures.”
“Of me?”
“You and the baby.”
My blood went cold.
“What baby?”
Her gaze dropped toward my phone, where Fern’s photograph was visible on the lock screen.
“That baby.”
I looked at Stellan.
Fern hadn’t existed before Adrian died.
Marissa had somehow obtained photographs afterward.
“Why?” I whispered.
Caroline stepped backward.
“Come inside.”
The living room smelled like coffee.
Caroline sat opposite us.
“My sister worked for Adrian.”
“You knew his real name?” Stellan asked.
“Yes.”
“Doing what?”
“Keeping him hidden.”
“From Marcus Vale?”
Caroline’s face confirmed it.
“Marissa told me Adrian had evidence that could destroy Vale. He was supposed to disappear until he could deliver it safely.”
“What happened?”
“She never knew exactly. Adrian fell in love.”
Caroline looked at me.
“With you.”
My throat tightened.
“She said that wasn’t supposed to happen.”
I looked down.
“He wanted to leave everything behind.”
“He tried.”
“What stopped him?”
Caroline swallowed.
“You got pregnant.”
I stared at her.
“I didn’t know.”
“He did.”
The room disappeared around me.
“What?”
“He knew.”
“No.”
“Marissa told him.”
“How would Marissa know before I did?”
Caroline hesitated.
“She was monitoring your medical records.”
Rage replaced confusion.
“What?”
“It was part of protecting him.”
“That isn’t protection.”
“I know.”
I stood.
Stellan touched my wrist.
“Let her finish.”
I sat again.
Caroline wiped her eyes.
“When Adrian learned about the pregnancy, he changed the plan. He said he couldn’t leave you behind.”
“Then why didn’t he tell me anything?”
“Because he believed knowing would make you a target.”
A horrible irony.
Ignorance had not protected me.
It had merely left me defenseless.
“Where is the blue ledger?” Stellan asked.
Caroline shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“What did Marissa know?”
“She knew Adrian hid it somewhere connected to Selene.”
I stared.
“Me?”
“He said nobody would look for it where his real life had finally begun.”
Stellan looked at me.
“Your apartment.”
“No. We’ve moved since then.”
“Where did you live with Adrian?”
“Logan Square.”
Caroline suddenly stood.
“Wait.”
She hurried upstairs and returned carrying a small box.
“Marissa gave me this before she died. She made me promise never to open it unless Selene came looking.”
My heart hammered.
Caroline handed it to me.
Inside was a key.
Brass.
Old.
A number engraved into it.
317.
Beneath it was a note in Adrian’s handwriting.
Selene—
If you found this, then somebody finally told you my real name.
I’m sorry.
The key opens the place where I kept the only truth I could not trust anyone else to carry.
Don’t go alone.
And whatever happens, keep Fern away from Marcus Vale.
I looked at Stellan.
He stared at the key.
“317,” he said.
“You recognize it?”
“Yes.”
His expression became grim.
“It’s not an apartment.”
“What is it?”
“A safe-deposit box.”
“Where?”
Stellan lifted his eyes to mine.
“At a bank my father secretly owned.”
May you like
And for the first time, we had something Marcus Vale might be willing to kill for.
---
