A Billionaire Heiress Walked Into My Clinic and Gave Me 3 Days to Marry Her… Then I Discovered Why
Chapter 6
Ethan grabbed a fireplace poker.
Charlotte whispered:
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know who it is.”
They moved upstairs.
The hallway was dark.
A figure appeared at the end.
Ethan raised the poker.
The person stepped into the light.
Richard Vale.
He was in his sixties, impeccably dressed, with silver hair and a calm expression.
He looked at Ethan.
Then Charlotte.
“So,” he said.
“The doctor finally found the house.”
Charlotte stepped forward.
“You broke into my home.”
“Your home?”
Vale smiled.
“Your father built it. Your father protected it. Your father trusted me.”
“You murdered him.”
Vale’s expression didn’t change.
“You’ve been listening to ghosts.”
Ethan stepped forward.
“My father knew you.”
“Your father was an excellent accountant.”
“He was an engineer.”
Vale smiled.
“Exactly.”
Charlotte’s voice hardened.
“Where’s the flash drive?”
“Safe.”
“Give it back.”
“No.”
Ethan watched him.
“You know who I am.”
“I’ve known since you were ten.”
“Then why didn’t you kill me?”
Vale smiled.
“Because your father made one mistake.”
“What?”
“He believed you were important.”
Ethan felt a chill.
Vale continued.
“You weren’t.”
Charlotte moved toward him.
“Then why are you afraid of him?”
Vale’s smile disappeared.
“Because you’re getting too close.”
Suddenly, the lights went out.
A loud crash came from downstairs.
Vale disappeared into the darkness.
Ethan grabbed Charlotte.
“Stay here.”
They heard footsteps.
Then a car engine.
By the time they reached the front door, Vale was gone.
But he had left something behind.
A small envelope.
Charlotte opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Her mother.
Ethan stared.
“Your mother?”
Charlotte nodded.
“My mother died when I was fifteen.”
The photograph showed her mother meeting Michael Carter.
On the back:
Ask your mother what she saw the night Michael died.
Charlotte’s face went white.
“My mother was there?”
They spent the rest of the night searching for her mother’s old records.
Eventually, they found a locked box in Charlotte’s bedroom.
Inside were letters.
Her mother’s diary.
And one photograph.
Charlotte’s mother had written:
I saw Richard Vale at the hospital the night Michael died.
Ethan’s heart stopped.
She continued:
Alexander wanted to expose him. Michael had the evidence.
But Richard had already threatened our daughter.
Alexander told me to keep Charlotte safe.
The final entry was dated three days before Alexander Whitmore’s death.
If anything happens to Alexander, find Michael’s son.
Charlotte began crying.
“He knew.”
Ethan held her.
“Your mother knew.”
“And she never told me.”
“She was protecting you.”
“Just like mine protected me.”
They sat together on the floor.
For the first time, their arrangement didn’t feel like an arrangement.
It felt like two people carrying the same grief.
Charlotte rested her head against Ethan’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For dragging you into this.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“You walked into my clinic.”
She smiled through her tears.
“Best mistake I ever made.”
He looked at her.
“Was it a mistake?”
She hesitated.
“No.”
Their faces were inches apart.
Then the phone rang.
Ethan answered.
A distorted voice said:
“You have twelve hours.”
“Who is this?”
“Someone who knows what happens when people refuse to cooperate.”
“What do you want?”
“Charlotte’s shares.”
“Why?”
“Because if she transfers them, everything ends.”
The line disconnected.
Charlotte stared at Ethan.
“What did they say?”
Ethan told her.
She shook her head.
“They’re afraid.”
“Of what?”
She looked at him.
“Of us.”
