Chapter 7 - The Woman Who Had Been Watching Me
Three years passed before I understood that surviving the accident had only been the beginning.
I had rebuilt my company.
I had rebuilt my body.
I had rebuilt my life.
But there was one thing I could never completely rebuild.
Trust.
Every time someone walked behind me too quickly, I noticed.
Every time an unfamiliar car appeared outside my office, I looked twice.
Every time my phone rang from an unknown number, my stomach tightened.
I hated that.
I hated knowing that people I once trusted had changed the way I saw the world.
But I refused to let them change who I was.
That was why I continued working.
My mother's foundation had become one of the largest private organizations in the state helping accident survivors.
We funded rehabilitation.
We helped families who couldn't afford medical care.
We paid for wheelchairs, therapy, transportation and housing.
And every year, we held a charity gala.
Ironically, the gala was held in the same ballroom where Daniel had humiliated me.
I had considered changing the location.
My father told me not to.
“Why?”
He looked at me.
“Because you don't run from a room just because someone hurt you in it.”
So I returned.
Every year.
I walked through those same doors.
And every year, I remembered the woman I had been.
The woman sitting silently while red wine soaked her dress.
The woman everyone thought was helpless.
I wanted her to know she had survived.
That year, something strange happened.
Twenty minutes before the gala began, my assistant came into my office.
“Emily?”
“Yes?”
“There is someone asking to see you.”
“Who?”
She hesitated.
“A woman named Claire Morgan.”
My heart stopped.
Claire.
My aunt.
The woman everyone believed had disappeared.
The woman whose confession had supposedly ended the investigation.
I hadn't seen her since the trial.
“Where is she?”
“In the lobby.”
I immediately went downstairs.
Claire stood near the entrance.
She looked older.
Thinner.
Tired.
But her eyes were clear.
“I didn't know whether you would see me.”
I stared at her.
“You shouldn't have come.”
“I know.”
“Why are you here?”
She reached into her purse.
She pulled out a small envelope.
“I found something.”
I didn't take it.
“What?”
“Evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
She looked around nervously.
“Victor wasn't acting alone.”
I felt the familiar coldness settle in my chest.
“Victor is in prison.”
“I know.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
She lowered her voice.
“The accident.”
I stared at her.
“We already know who caused it.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You know who participated.”
A pause.
“You don't know who ordered it.”
I took the envelope.
Inside was a copy of a bank transfer.
The date was two days before my accident.
The recipient was the driver.
But the sender wasn't Evelyn.
It wasn't Daniel.
It wasn't Victor.
It was a company I had never heard of.
Harrison Strategic Holdings.
I looked at Claire.
“What is this?”
She whispered:
“Find out who owns it.”
I gave the document to my legal team.
Three hours later, my attorney called.
“Emily.”
His voice was unusually serious.
“We found the owner.”
“Who?”
A pause.
“Your business partner.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Marcus Bell.”
I knew Marcus.
He had been with my company for six years.
He had helped rebuild it after Daniel's fraud.
I trusted him.
Or thought I did.
“That's impossible.”
My attorney answered:
“That's what I thought.”
I looked through Marcus's records.
Nothing.
Perfect tax history.
Perfect business history.
Perfect reputation.
Too perfect.
Then my investigator found something buried beneath several shell companies.
Marcus had been transferring money to a private account.
The account belonged to someone named Daniel Hayes.
My hands went cold.
Daniel?
Impossible.
He had disappeared after the divorce.
He had served his sentence for financial crimes.
He was supposed to have no access to my company.
Yet someone was sending him money.
I stared at the records.
Then another document appeared.
A hotel reservation.
Under a false name.
Tomorrow night.
The room was booked for two people.
One was Marcus.
The other was Daniel.
I looked at my father.
“Daniel is coming back.”
Arthur didn't look surprised.
“Then let him.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
My father placed his hand on the table.
“Because this time…”
He looked at me.
“You won't be the woman sitting in a wheelchair waiting for someone to decide your fate.”
A pause.
“You'll be the woman deciding theirs.”
And for the first time in years…
I smiled.
Because I knew exactly what I was going to do.
May you like
I was going to let them believe they had finally won.
Then I was going to take everything apart.
