PART 4:- My husband smashed our newborn’s crib and threw it onto the law

PART 4

My father was still staring at the message when I finally spoke.
“Who is she?”
He looked at me.
I already knew from his expression that the answer wasn’t going to be simple.
“Who is my father’s business partner?” I asked again. “And why would he tell you not to trust me?”
My father didn’t respond.
Instead, he walked toward the kitchen window and pulled the curtain shut.
Then he checked the security cameras.
One by one.
Front gate.
Driveway.
Back garden.
Side entrance.
Nursery.
Garage.
Only after he had finished checking every screen did he sit down.
“There are things about our family that I should have told you years ago.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“I’ve heard that before.”
“This time I’m telling you everything.”
I looked at him.

“Then start with my mother.”

He took a long breath.

“Her name was Evelyn.”

“I know.”

“She wasn’t always my wife.”

I waited.

“She had a life before me.”

“I know about the first husband.”

My father looked surprised.

“Who told you?”

“Daniel.”

The room went silent.

My father leaned forward.

“What exactly did he tell you?”

“Only that he knew something about my mother.”

“And you believed him?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

That answer seemed to hurt him.

But I didn’t care.

Too many secrets had been kept from me.

My entire childhood had been built around half-truths.

My mother died when I was young.

My father told me it was an accident.

That was all.

No details.

No questions.

No discussion.

Just an accident.

I had accepted it because children have a strange way of accepting whatever adults tell them.

But now I was beginning to wonder.

“What really happened to her?”

My father looked down.

“She wasn’t supposed to die that night.”

My heart stopped.

“What does that mean?”

He closed his eyes.

“Your mother was investigating someone.”

“Who?”

“Her husband.”

I frowned.

“You mean her first husband?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“He was involved in something dangerous.”

“What kind of something?”

My father hesitated.

“Financial fraud.”

I stared at him.

The words seemed to echo around the room.

Financial fraud.

Daniel.

Victor Hale.

The trust.

My mother’s first husband.

Suddenly, the connections were becoming impossible to ignore.

“Was Victor involved?”

My father didn’t answer.

“Dad.”

He looked at me.

“Yes.”

My stomach dropped.

“How?”

“Victor worked for your mother’s first husband.”

“So he knew her?”

“Very well.”

I stood up.

“And you never told me?”

“I was trying to protect you.”

I shook my head.

“No. You were trying to protect the secret.”

He didn’t deny it.

That silence hurt more than an argument would have.

I walked toward the nursery.

Maya was sleeping.

I stood beside her crib and watched her.

My daughter had become the only thing in my life that still felt uncomplicated.

Then I noticed something.

The blanket around her had been moved.

I hadn’t touched it.

My father hadn’t touched it.

I immediately picked her up.

My heart started racing.

“What happened?”

My father rushed into the room.

I pointed toward the crib.

“Someone was here.”

The security officer entered behind him.

He examined the window.

Then the floor.

Then the crib.

Finally, he looked at me.

“There are marks on the window.”

My father walked over.

“What kind?”

“Someone tried to open it from outside.”

My father became furious.

“Get everyone here.”

Within minutes, the house was surrounded by security.

Doors were locked.

Windows checked.

Cameras reviewed.

But whoever had been outside was already gone.

Then one of the security officers found something.

A tiny piece of paper.

It had been pushed beneath the nursery door.

My father picked it up.

I could see the fear return to his face.

“What does it say?”

He handed it to me.

Three words.

ASK ABOUT THE WATCH.

I looked at him.

“What watch?”

He didn’t answer.

“Dad.”

He walked to the hallway.

“Come with me.”

We entered his study.

He locked the door behind us.

Then he opened a safe hidden behind a painting.

Inside were several documents.

A passport.

A small jewelry box.

And an old watch.

I stared at it.

“That’s hers.”

My father nodded.

It was my mother’s watch.

I hadn’t seen it since I was a child.

I remembered it because she wore it constantly.

Even when she cooked.

Even when she played with me.

Even when she went to bed.

I reached for it.

My father stopped me.

“Don’t.”

“Why?”

“Because this isn’t just a watch.”

He opened the back.

Inside was a tiny compartment.

My breathing stopped.

There was a micro-sized memory card inside.

“What is that?”

“Evidence.”

“Evidence of what?”

“My mother left something behind,” he said.

I looked at him.

“What?”

“A recording.”

My father removed the memory card carefully.

“Your mother knew someone was watching her.”

My hands began trembling.

“She recorded everything.”

“Everything?”

“Business transactions. Names. Meetings.”

“Who was she recording?”

My father looked at me.

“Your mother’s first husband.”

I stared at the card.

“And Victor?”

“He appears in the recordings.”

“What about Daniel?”

My father shook his head.

“That’s where things get complicated.”

“How?”

“Daniel discovered the existence of this evidence.”

I froze.

“How?”

“Victor told him.”

I suddenly understood.

Daniel hadn’t randomly become involved with my family.

He had been approached.

Maybe the affair wasn’t how this started.

Maybe the affair had been part of something much bigger.

“Why would Victor involve Daniel?”

My father looked at the watch.

“Because Daniel was close to you.”

I felt sick.

“Are you saying he married me because of the trust?”

My father didn’t answer immediately.

Then he said:

“We don’t know.”

“But you suspect it.”

“Yes.”

I stepped backward.

Three years.

Three years of memories.

Our wedding.

Our first home.

Our arguments.

The birth of Maya.

Every moment suddenly felt contaminated by one horrible possibility.

What if Daniel had never loved me?

What if the marriage had been a plan?

What if I had never been his wife in the first place?

What if I had simply been a key?

A key to the trust.

A key to my mother’s secrets.

A key to everything my family had spent years protecting.

My father put a hand on my shoulder.

“Elena.”

I pulled away.

“I need to know.”

“You will.”

“No.”

I looked directly at him.

“I need to know now.”

He inserted the memory card into a secure computer.

The screen went black.

Then a video appeared.

The image was old.

Grainy.

But I recognized her immediately.

My mother.

She was sitting at a desk.

She looked younger than I remembered.

Her hair was tied back.

She looked frightened.

I covered my mouth.

“That’s her.”

My father stood behind me.

The recording began.

My mother’s voice filled the room.

“If you’re watching this, something has gone wrong.”

I started crying.

She continued.

“I don’t know who will find this.”

She looked toward the camera.

“But if Elena is the one watching…”

She paused.

My heart broke.

“Baby, I’m sorry.”

I couldn’t breathe.

My father looked away.

My mother’s eyes filled with tears.

“I wanted to tell you everything.”

The recording continued.

“But there are people who believe our family owns something that belongs to them.”

I leaned closer to the screen.

“They will try to find the trust.”

My heart began pounding.

“They will try to get close to Elena.”

The room seemed to disappear around me.

“They may even marry her.”

I stopped breathing.

My father stared at the screen.

My mother’s voice continued.

“If that happens, do not trust the person.”

I whispered:

“No…”

The recording flickered.

Then my mother said something that made my entire body freeze.

“The man who will try to reach Elena will not come alone.”

The screen suddenly went black.

I looked at my father.

“What happened?”

He shook the computer.

The recording had stopped.

“There must be more.”

He checked the file.

Only three minutes had been saved.

“That’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“The original recording was over twenty minutes.”

“Where is the rest?”

My father stared at the screen.

Then the computer displayed an error.

FILE CORRUPTED.

I felt my stomach drop.

“Someone deleted it.”

“Recently,” my father said.

I looked at him.

“How do you know?”

“Because the system shows an access time.”

“When?”

He read the timestamp.

His face went pale.

“Last night.”

The same night someone entered the property.

The same night the photograph of Maya was taken.

Someone had accessed my mother’s recording.

Someone knew exactly where it was.

Someone knew about the watch.

Someone knew about the trust.

And someone had been inside our house.

Then my phone rang.

Unknown number.

I answered.

“Hello?”

Silence.

Then a man’s voice.

“Did you watch the recording?”

My heart stopped.

“Who are you?”

“You don’t need to know yet.”

“How did you get my number?”

A quiet laugh.

“You’re asking the wrong question.”

I looked at my father.

“What question should I ask?”

The man answered:

“Why did your husband really marry you?”

The call ended.

I stared at the phone.

My father took it from me.

“Call security.”

I shook my head.

“No.”

“Elena—”

“I want to hear what he has to say.”

My phone rang again.

Same number.

I answered.

The voice returned.

“You have forty-eight hours.”

“For what?”

“To find the missing recording.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You’ll never know what happened to your mother.”

My throat tightened.

“You’re lying.”

“No.”

“How do I know?”

“Because Daniel knows.”

I froze.

“What does Daniel know?”

The man laughed softly.

“Ask him yourself.”

The call ended.

I immediately called Daniel.

He answered after one ring.

“Elena.”

His voice sounded exhausted.

“Where are you?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“I need to ask you something.”

“I know.”

My heart stopped.

“You know what?”

“You found the watch.”

I couldn’t speak.

“How do you know about the watch?”

Silence.

Then Daniel whispered:

“Because I was there when your mother hid it.”

I felt the room spin.

“That isn’t possible.”

“It is.”

“You weren’t even in my life.”

“I know.”

“Then how?”

Daniel’s voice became quieter.

“Because I knew your mother before I ever met you.”

I closed my eyes.

Everything inside me was screaming.

“Tell me the truth.”

“I can’t.”

“You owe me the truth.”

“I owe you more than that.”

“What does that mean?”

He took a breath.

“I didn’t marry you for the trust.”

I felt tears run down my face.

“Then why did you?”

Silence.

“Daniel?”

Finally, he answered.

“Because I was trying to protect you.”

I laughed bitterly.

“Protect me?”

“Yes.”

“You cheated on me.”

“I know.”

“You destroyed our daughter’s crib.”

“I know.”

“You let Vanessa wear my mother’s jewelry.”

“I know.”

“And now you expect me to believe you were protecting me?”

“No.”

His voice cracked.

“I expect you to hate me.”

“Then tell me why.”

Another silence.

Then he said:

“Because if I told you the truth three years ago, you would have been killed.”

I stopped breathing.

My father heard him through the speaker.

His expression changed.

“Daniel,” he said.

Daniel went silent.

“You’re on speaker,” my father continued.

Another long silence.

Then Daniel said something that shocked both of us.

“Mr. Harrington, you need to leave the house.”

My father frowned.

“Why?”

“Because they’re already inside.”

My father’s face turned white.

“What?”

Daniel continued.

“I saw the security footage.”

My heart pounded.

“What are you talking about?”

“Someone disabled your cameras eleven minutes ago.”

My father immediately looked toward the security monitor.

The screens flickered.

One by one…

they went black.

Front gate.

Driveway.

Back garden.

Garage.

Nursery.

Every camera disappeared.

Then the lights in the house went out.

Maya began crying.

I grabbed her.

My father moved toward the door.

“Stay behind me.”

Then we heard it.

A slow sound from upstairs.

Step.

Step.

Step.

Someone was walking through the hallway.

My father motioned for security.

Nobody moved.

The house had gone completely silent.

Then a woman’s voice came from upstairs.

“Elena?”

I froze.

I knew that voice.

It was impossible.

I had heard it hundreds of times.

It was a voice from my childhood.

A voice I had not heard since I was a little girl.

My mother.

My father stared at me.

“That can’t be…”

The voice came again.

“Elena…”

I held Maya tighter.

Then something fell down the staircase.

A small black box.

It landed at my feet.

The lid opened.

Inside was the missing portion of my mother’s recording.

And beneath it…

was a photograph.

I picked it up.

It showed my mother standing beside Daniel.

But the date on the photograph was impossible.

It had been taken four years before Daniel and I met.

And on the back, in my mother’s handwriting, were seven words:

Daniel is the only person you can trust.

I looked at my father.

He looked at the photograph.

Then he whispered:

“That’s not Daniel.”

I stared at him.

“What?”

My father pointed at the man in the photograph.

“That man looks like Daniel.”

“But?”

“He isn’t Daniel.”

My heart stopped.

Then the lights came back on.

And every security monitor displayed the same image.

A live video of Daniel.

Standing outside the front gate.

Looking directly into the camera.

Behind him stood Vanessa.

And beside Vanessa…

stood a woman who looked exactly like my mother.

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 5…

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