I Told My Roommate My Date Rejected Me… Her Next Words Left Me Speechless
Chapter 5
The next morning, Claire told me everything.
Her father, Thomas Morgan, had been the attorney for a powerful family-owned investment company.
Years earlier, he discovered millions of dollars being moved through fake charities.
He started investigating.
Then he found a larger network.
People at different companies were using the same system to hide money.
Thomas copied the evidence.
He planned to expose everyone.
Then he died.
Officially, it was a single-car accident.
But Claire never believed it.
After his death, most of his files disappeared.
One didn’t.
A handwritten note.
Blue box. Old house. Behind the wall.
Claire had spent years trying to understand it.
“But I never found the box,” she said.
“Where’s the old house?”
“My father’s childhood home.”
“Does anyone know about it?”
“Ryan.”
I looked at her.
“Of course he does.”
She nodded.
“I haven’t been there in years.”
“We’re going.”
She stared.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s dangerous.”
“You just said we.”
She sighed.
“You’re impossible.”
“So I’ve been told.”
That afternoon, we drove two hours to the old house.
It was abandoned.
The grass was overgrown.
The windows were broken.
Claire stood at the gate.
“I haven’t seen this place since I was eighteen.”
I touched her shoulder.
“Take your time.”
She nodded.
Inside, dust covered everything.
Her father’s old books remained on shelves.
We searched for hours.
Nothing.
Then Claire noticed a mark behind a wooden cabinet.
A blue paint line.
We moved the cabinet.
Behind it was a small wooden panel.
I pried it open.
A metal box sat inside.
Claire froze.
“That’s it.”
The box required a key.
She pulled a necklace from beneath her shirt.
A tiny blue key hung from it.
She had never shown me before.
She inserted it.
Click.
The box opened.
Inside were files.
Bank statements.
Photographs.
And a small voice recorder.
Claire pressed the button.
Her father’s voice filled the room.
“If Claire is hearing this, I’m already gone.”
Her eyes filled.
“I need you to understand that I did not trust the people around me.”
He named several companies.
Then several executives.
Then one man.
Ryan’s father.
Claire covered her mouth.
Her father’s voice continued.
“He knows about the money.”
The recording crackled.
“But he is not the person who arranged the transfers.”
Claire looked at me.
“Who was?”
The recording ended.
Another file was labeled.
THIRD PARTY
We opened it.
A photograph appeared.
It showed a group of executives outside a private club.
One person was circled.
A woman.
Claire stared.
“I know her.”
“Who?”
“My father’s former partner.”
“What was her name?”
“Olivia Grant.”
I looked at the photograph.
Olivia was standing beside another person.
Someone younger.
Someone Claire recognized immediately.
Her own mother.
Claire stepped backward.
“My mother was involved?”
“No,” I said.
“I don’t know.”
Then another photograph appeared.
This one was recent.
Olivia.
Ryan.
And Claire’s mother.
Alive.
Standing together.
Claire’s hands began to shake.
“My mother has been dead for six years.”
I looked at the photograph again.
The date was from three months ago.
That couldn’t be right.
Unless Claire’s mother wasn’t dead.
Or someone had forged the photograph.
Then my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A single message:
Stop looking before Claire learns why her mother disappeared.
I looked at Claire.
She had read it too.
Her face went completely white.
