Everyone Laughed at the Single Father at the Reunion—Then a Billionaire Crossed the Room for Him
Chapter 4
Margaret had died three years earlier.
Fever.
That was what the village doctor had written.
Thomas had never questioned it.
She had been ill for five days.
On the sixth morning, she was gone.
Before her death, she had asked Thomas to promise one thing.
“Take care of Clara.”
He had promised.
Now Nathaniel was telling him there might have been something else.
“What are you saying?” Thomas asked.
Nathaniel lowered his voice.
“Your wife’s death may not have been natural.”
Thomas stared.
“Don’t.”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t have reason.”
Thomas stood.
“You’re telling me my wife was murdered?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then don’t say it.”
Nathaniel nodded.
“You’re right.”
He reached into his coat again.
This time he produced a small leather notebook.
“My father’s records.”
Thomas looked at it.
“What does this have to do with Margaret?”
“Everything.”
Nathaniel opened the notebook.
Several pages had names and payments.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Edmund Vale.
Thomas recognized it.
Vale was a powerful landowner who had purchased farms throughout the county.
Nathaniel pointed to another entry.
Margaret Hale.
Thomas’s throat tightened.
“Why is her name there?”
“She worked for my father.”
“As what?”
“Bookkeeper.”
Thomas stared.
Margaret had told him she worked at the warehouse for a short time.
Nothing more.
Nathaniel continued.
“She discovered that my father was using false contracts to seize farms from struggling families.”
Thomas looked at the notebook.
“How many?”
“Thirty-two.”
Thomas felt sick.
“Did she have proof?”
“She did.”
“Where is it?”
Nathaniel looked at him.
“That is what I’ve spent fourteen years trying to find.”
Thomas remembered something.
A night shortly before Margaret died.
She had been sitting beside the fire.
She had asked him:
“If something happens to me, will you promise never to sell the farm?”
Thomas had laughed.
He thought she had been worried about debt.
Now he realized she had been afraid.
Nathaniel leaned closer.
“Thomas, your wife may have hidden the evidence before she died.”
Thomas whispered:
“Where?”
Nathaniel shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Suddenly Clara knocked on the door.
“Papa?”
Thomas opened it.
She stood holding a small wooden box.
“I found this in the carriage.”
Thomas recognized it.
It had belonged to Margaret.
Clara opened the lid.
Inside was a folded scrap of paper.
Nathaniel read it.
His face changed.
“What does it say?”
Thomas looked down.
Only six words were written.
The truth is beneath the old mill.
