My Husband Left Me for Dead in a Ravine While Pregnant for $1.5 Million — He Didn't Know My Father Was Watching
The permit issues had effectively halted Adrian’s progress, turning the promising sounds of construction into an unnerving silence. Victor’s subtle but effective retaliation left a bitter taste in my mouth. It was a reminder of his power in Harmony Creek, a power he was determined to wield against us. I felt restless, needing to contribute more than just observing.
I recalled Clara Bellamy, Victor’s long-time secretary. She was an innocuous, almost invisible part of his life, but she had been there through everything. Her mention of Victor’s obsession with old financial documents still lingered in my mind.
“I think I need to talk to Clara,” I told Adrian one morning.
He looked up from his coffee, surprised.
“Clara Bellamy?” he questioned. “Victor’s secretary? Why?”
“She was there for years,” I explained, stirring my own coffee. “She saw things. She knows Victor better than anyone, even if she doesn’t realize it.”
I hesitated, then continued.
“She also mentioned he was looking for an old box of documents from five years ago. He was ‘obsessed’ with finding it. That stood out to me.”
Adrian frowned, considering.
“It’s risky, Elena,” he warned. “She’s fiercely loyal to him.”
“Loyalty can be misplaced,” I countered. “And if he’s as erratic as she said, maybe there are cracks in that loyalty.”
I decided to approach Clara indirectly. I remembered a set of antique porcelain dolls my grandmother had given me, still stored at our old house. Victor had left them untouched, probably deeming them worthless. I called Clara at Victor’s office, using a burner phone Adrian had provided.
“Clara, it’s Elena Vance,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I know this is unusual, but I was wondering if it would be possible to swing by the old house. Just to pick up a few personal effects that might have been overlooked.”
There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end.
“Elena? But… Mr. Cavendish said…” Clara stammered, clearly flustered.
“Yes, I know what Victor said,” I replied, my voice gentle but firm. “It’s a long story, Clara. But I’m very much alive. And I’d appreciate your discretion. Just a few sentimental items.”
Clara, despite her shock, was ultimately a kind woman at heart, and perhaps a little thrilled by the dramatic revelation. She agreed to meet me at a small, out-of-the-way coffee shop on the edge of town, away from Victor’s usual haunts.
The meeting was awkward at first. Clara’s eyes darted around, as if expecting Victor to materialize. She looked much thinner, her usual cheerful demeanor replaced by a strained anxiety.
“I can’t believe it’s really you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Mr. Cavendish… he told everyone you’d run away. That you were unstable.”
I kept my expression neutral, letting her absorb the shock.
“Victor has a way of twisting things, Clara,” I said. “But that’s not why I asked to see you.”
I subtly steered the conversation toward Victor’s work, asking about changes in the office, his general mood. Clara seemed eager to unburden herself, perhaps relieved to finally speak to someone outside of Victor’s influence.
“He’s been… different lately,” she admitted, stirring her tea nervously. “More irritable. He snaps at me over little things. And he’s been spending hours locked in his office, going through old files.”
She paused, then lowered her voice further.
“He’s been obsessed with finding this one particular box. Old financial records from about five years ago. He said it was ‘critical’ for a new deal, but he couldn’t find it anywhere.”
A small, specific detail, but it resonated with what I’d told Adrian.
“What kind of documents?” I prompted gently.
Clara shrugged, her brow furrowed.
“Just old ledgers, property deeds, that kind of thing,” she replied. “He spent days tearing the storage room apart, even accusing me of misfiling them. He even mentioned ‘Veridian Holdings’ a few times, wondering where the paperwork for it was.”
Veridian Holdings. The name clicked in my mind. I’d never heard Victor mention a company by that name. It sounded vaguely familiar, like something Adrian might have mentioned in passing about offshore accounts, but I couldn’t place it. This was a new piece to the puzzle.
“He was very agitated when he couldn’t find them,” Clara continued. “He usually keeps everything organized, but this box seemed to really bother him. Like it held some big secret.”
Clara then shifted, her face creasing with worry.
“He also started seeing a new lawyer, not his usual one, for some ‘personal matters’,” she added, dropping her voice again. “He’s been very secretive about it. It just feels… wrong. I always trusted Mr. Cavendish, he’s always been so kind to me, but this…”
She trailed off, her loyalty to Victor visibly straining. Despite her concerns, a deep-seated respect, almost admiration, for Victor still colored her words. She saw him as a benefactor, a powerful figure who had given her stability. I could see her internal struggle, her mind trying to reconcile the kind, charismatic boss with the erratic, secretive man she was now describing.
“Clara, thank you,” I said, reaching across the table to touch her hand. “This is important. Truly.”
I left the coffee shop feeling a jolt of both vindication and alarm. Clara, still naive, still largely loyal, had confirmed my suspicions. Victor was indeed rattled. His search for the old documents, his new lawyer, and the mention of “Veridian Holdings” were all pieces of a larger, darker puzzle. It was a tangible sign that the façade was beginning to crack, and that Clara, unwittingly, had handed me a key.
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