“I Fixed My CEO’s Broken Fence — Then She Personally Thanked Me Over Dinner”
Chapter 9
We reached the cemetery twenty minutes later.
Collins was standing beside my father’s grave.
He looked exhausted.
Victoria approached him.
“James said you were involved.”
Collins nodded.
“I was.”
Victoria’s face hardened.
“For how long?”
“Too long.”
He explained that he had joined the network after being threatened.
They had evidence against his family.
They forced him to cooperate.
But eventually, he began secretly recording everything.
“Why didn’t you expose them?”
“Because they would have killed you.”
Victoria looked at me.
“And Daniel?”
Collins shook his head.
“Your father protected him.”
He pointed toward the grave.
“Thomas hid something here.”
We searched beneath the stone.
A metal box was buried several feet below.
Inside was a handwritten journal.
My father’s final journal.
I read the first page.
The money isn’t the secret.
The second:
The people aren’t the secret.
The third:
The secret is ownership.
Victoria looked confused.
“What does that mean?”
I turned the pages.
My father had discovered that Whitmore Industries wasn’t entirely owned by Victoria’s family.
A hidden trust controlled twenty percent.
The trust had no public beneficiaries.
But the journal named one.
Me.
I stared.
“What?”
Victoria read the page.
“Daniel?”
My father had secretly transferred a portion of his own assets into the trust.
But why?
Because years earlier, Victoria’s father had promised to protect my family.
The trust was designed as insurance.
If either family was threatened, the surviving children would inherit control.
Victoria’s eyes widened.
“You were always part of Whitmore.”
“Not legally.”
“Legally now.”
The journal contained legal documents.
My father had worked with lawyers to establish the trust.
The papers had been witnessed.
Everything was valid.
I suddenly owned twenty percent of Whitmore Industries.
Victoria owned forty-three.
Together, we controlled the company.
But the board had known about the trust.
That’s why they wanted me gone.
I looked at Collins.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I needed you to find the evidence yourself.”
I didn’t like that answer.
But I understood.
Then Victoria asked:
“Who killed my father?”
Collins looked at the grave.
“James Carter ordered it.”
“And my father?”
“Same people.”
Victoria closed her eyes.
For years, she had believed her father died in an accident.
Now she knew he had been murdered.
I put my hand on her shoulder.
She looked at me.
“I should have known.”
“You were a daughter.”
She shook her head.
“I was his daughter.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
She looked at me for a long moment.
Then she smiled faintly.
“You always know what to say.”
“I usually don’t.”
“I know.”
We both laughed quietly.
It was the first moment since this nightmare began when everything felt almost normal.
Then Collins looked toward the road.
“Someone’s coming.”
A black car approached.
Collins reached for his weapon.
But Victoria stopped him.
The car stopped.
The passenger door opened.
A woman stepped out.
She looked at Victoria.
Then at me.
She held an envelope.
“I have something your fathers never had the courage to tell you.”
