Chapter 3

Christopher stared at the message on his phone for a long moment. The words burned into his mind like acid.

You should have let her drown. Now you’ve made this personal.

He didn’t reply. Instead, he forwarded the message to Colonel Marcus Hale, an old friend from his military days who now ran a private security firm. Within minutes, Marcus called him.

“Chris,” Marcus said, his voice calm but serious. “I’m sending a team over right now. Four men. They’ll be there in twenty minutes. Until then, don’t let the girl out of your sight.”

“I won’t,” Christopher replied. His voice was low, controlled, but there was steel underneath it. “I also need you to find someone. Victor Lang. He used to work for my father. I want to know where he is and who he’s working with.”

“Consider it done,” Marcus said. “And Chris… whoever sent that message isn’t playing around. Be careful.”

After ending the call, Christopher walked back into Emma’s room. She was still asleep, her small body curled under the blankets, one hand clutching the edge of the pillow. Yvette sat in the armchair beside the bed, her posture stiff and alert.

“Mrs. Yvette,” Christopher said quietly, “from now on, you don’t leave her side unless I’m here. No exceptions.”

The housekeeper nodded without hesitation.

“I won’t, sir.”

Christopher looked down at his daughter. The bruises on her arms were visible even in the soft morning light. Some were old and faded. Others were newer. He felt a fresh wave of rage and guilt rise in his chest.

He had failed her for four years.

He would not fail her again.

Downstairs, Estelle Pierce had not left the east wing. She had locked herself in her private sitting room since the confrontation the night before. Christopher didn’t go to her. Not yet. He had more important things to handle.

Instead, he went into his study and locked the door. He opened his laptop and began searching for any information he could find on Victor Lang. Most of the public records were old — Victor had worked as a financial advisor for the Pierce family nearly fifteen years ago before being quietly fired. There were rumors of embezzlement, but nothing had ever been proven.

Christopher leaned back in his chair, thinking.

If Victor Lang was involved with Juliette and Estelle, and if he was the one who sent that message, then this was no longer just about inheritance or family pride.

This was something far more dangerous.

His phone rang again. This time it was Marcus.

“I found something,” Marcus said without preamble. “Victor Lang has been using a different name for the past few years. He’s been going by Victor Langston. He owns a small investment firm on the outskirts of the city. But that’s not the interesting part.”

Christopher sat up straighter.

“What is it?”

“Three months ago, someone transferred a large sum of money into one of his accounts. The transfer came from a shell company. We traced it back… and it leads to Juliette’s personal account.”

Christopher’s jaw tightened.

“How much?”

“Two million,” Marcus said. “And that’s just one transaction. There are others. Smaller ones, spread out over the past year.”

Christopher closed his eyes for a second.

Juliette hadn’t just been trying to get rid of Emma for the inheritance. She had been paying Victor Lang to help her.

“Keep digging,” he told Marcus. “I want to know everything about Victor Langston. Every account, every property, every person he’s met with in the last six months.”

“Already on it,” Marcus replied. “And Chris… one more thing. We found security footage from a camera near the pool house from last night. It shows someone entering the pool area right before Emma fell in. It wasn’t Juliette.”

Christopher’s blood ran cold.

“Who was it?”

“We couldn’t get a clear face,” Marcus said. “But it was a man. Tall. He was wearing dark clothes and a cap. He left through the back gate two minutes after Juliette pulled Emma out of the water.”

Christopher’s hand tightened around the phone.

“Send me the footage.”

After the call ended, Christopher sat in silence for a long time.

Someone else had been there last night. Someone had helped Juliette. Or at the very least, they had been watching.

He stood up and walked over to the large window that overlooked the back gardens and the pool. The water was still now, calm and blue under the morning sun. It was hard to believe that just hours ago, his daughter had been fighting for her life in that same water.

His phone buzzed with a new message.

It was from an unknown number again.

She’s not safe in that house. Neither are you. Walk away while you still can.

Christopher stared at the screen.

Then he typed a reply.

I’m not going anywhere. And if you come near my daughter again, I will find you. And I will make you regret it.

He sent the message.

Almost immediately, another one came through.

We’ll see.

Christopher slipped the phone into his pocket and walked out of the study. He went straight upstairs to Emma’s room.

Yvette was still sitting beside the bed, but Emma was awake now. She was sitting up, her small hands clutching a stuffed rabbit Yvette must have found for her. When she saw Christopher, her face lit up with a small, shy smile.

“Daddy,” she said softly.

Christopher’s heart clenched at the word again. He still wasn’t used to hearing it.

He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

Emma shrugged a little. “My throat hurts. And my head feels funny.”

Christopher gently brushed her hair back from her forehead.

“Dr. Harlan said you’ll feel better soon. You just need to rest.”

Emma was quiet for a moment. Then she looked up at him with those big, serious eyes that reminded him so much of Rachel.

“Are you really my daddy?” she asked.

Christopher felt something crack inside his chest.

“Yes,” he said, his voice rough. “I am. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it out loud.”

Emma studied him for a few seconds, as if trying to decide whether to believe him. Then she nodded slowly and leaned forward, resting her head against his chest.

Christopher wrapped his arms around her carefully, mindful of the bruises.

“I’m going to keep you safe,” he whispered. “No matter what happens. I promise.”

Emma didn’t answer. She just held onto him a little tighter.

Later that afternoon, while Emma was napping, Christopher met with Marcus and two of his security team in the study. They reviewed the footage from the pool house again. Even with enhancement, they still couldn’t get a clear view of the man’s face. But one thing was clear — he had been watching Juliette and Emma closely before the incident.

“He wasn’t there by accident,” Marcus said. “He was waiting for something to happen.”

Christopher nodded.

“I want security doubled around the house. Especially around Emma. No one enters or leaves without my approval. And I want someone watching my mother at all times. She doesn’t leave the east wing unless I say so.”

Marcus made notes on his tablet.

“What about Juliette?” he asked. “She’s out on bail. We should keep an eye on her too.”

“Do it,” Christopher said. “I want to know where she goes and who she meets with.”

After the meeting, Christopher returned to Emma’s room. She was still sleeping. Yvette had stepped out for a moment to get some tea.

He sat down in the chair beside the bed and watched his daughter breathe.

His phone buzzed again.

Another message.

This time, it wasn’t from an unknown number.

It was from his mother.

We need to talk. Come to the east wing. Alone.

Christopher stared at the message.

He had no interest in talking to Estelle. Not after everything she had done. Not after the recording. Not after the way she had spoken about Emma.

But something told him he should go.

He stood up, kissed Emma’s forehead gently, and walked out of the room.

As he made his way toward the east wing, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking straight into another trap.

But he had to know what his mother wanted.

And more importantly… he needed to know if she was still working with Victor Lang and whoever had been watching his daughter last night.

When he reached the door to Estelle’s private sitting room, he paused for a moment.

Then he knocked once and pushed the door open.

Estelle was sitting in her favorite armchair by the window, a cup of tea in her hands. She looked smaller than he remembered. Older. The usual steel in her posture was gone.

She looked up when he entered.

“Close the door,” she said quietly.

Christopher did as she asked and walked over to stand in front of her.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice cold.

Estelle set her teacup down on the small table beside her.

“I made a mistake,” she said.

Christopher didn’t respond.

Estelle continued, her voice quieter than he had ever heard it.

“I thought I was protecting this family. I thought… I thought if we kept Emma’s existence quiet, we could protect the Pierce name. I thought Juliette was the right choice. I was wrong.”

Christopher crossed his arms.

“You didn’t just make a mistake, Mother. You helped plan to get rid of my daughter. You stood by while Juliette tried to drown her. And now you expect me to believe you’ve suddenly had a change of heart?”

Estelle looked up at him. For the first time, there were tears in her eyes.

“I saw the way you looked at her last night,” she said. “The way you held her. The way you spoke to her. I haven’t seen you look at anyone like that since Rachel died.”

She took a shaky breath.

“I was wrong about her. About Emma. And I was wrong about you.”

Christopher studied his mother’s face. He wanted to believe her. But after everything that had happened, trust was a luxury he could no longer afford.

“If you’re truly sorry,” he said, “then tell me the truth. All of it. Starting with Victor Lang.”

Estelle’s face paled.

“How do you know that name?”

“Answer the question.”

Estelle looked down at her hands.

“Victor worked for your father years ago. He was… useful. Discreet. When Juliette came to me with her concerns about Emma, I reached out to him. I asked him to help us… manage the situation.”

“Manage the situation,” Christopher repeated bitterly. “You mean get rid of my daughter.”

Estelle didn’t deny it.

“I never wanted her to die,” she said. “I just wanted her gone. Out of the will. Out of our lives. I thought if she disappeared, everything would go back to the way it was supposed to be.”

Christopher felt his anger rising again.

“And now?” he asked. “Now that your plan has failed, you suddenly want forgiveness?”

Estelle looked up at him, her eyes filled with something he had never seen in her before.

Regret.

“I want to make it right,” she said. “If you’ll let me.”

Christopher studied her for a long moment.

Then he spoke.

“Tell me everything you know about Victor Lang. Every conversation. Every plan. Every person he’s working with. And if I find out you’re still lying to me…”

He leaned forward slightly.

“I will make sure you never see the inside of this house again.”

Estelle nodded slowly.

“I’ll tell you everything,” she said. “But there’s something you need to know first.”

Christopher waited.

Estelle took a deep breath.

“Victor Lang isn’t just working for money,” she said. “He has a personal reason for wanting Emma gone. And it has nothing to do with the inheritance.”

Christopher frowned.

“What are you talking about?”

Estelle looked him straight in the eyes.

“Victor Lang… is Rachel’s brother.”

Christopher felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

“Rachel didn’t have a brother,” he said.

Estelle’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“She did. A half-brother. From her father’s side. Victor was born before Rachel’s parents married. He was given up for adoption when he was a baby. He only found out about Rachel a few years ago.”

Christopher stared at his mother, trying to process what she was saying.

“Rachel never told me,” he said.

“She didn’t know,” Estelle replied. “Victor found out after she died. He blames our family for what happened to her. He thinks if she hadn’t gotten involved with you, she would still be alive.”

Christopher felt a cold rage settle in his chest.

“So this isn’t just about money,” he said. “This is personal.”

Estelle nodded.

“And Victor isn’t working alone.”

She looked up at him, her expression grim.

“There’s someone else helping him. Someone inside this house.”

Christopher’s blood ran cold.

“Who?”

Estelle hesitated.