Chapter 8 - Emma KnewGrant felt the room disappear.
“That’s impossible.”
Charles Voss chuckled.
“People use that word when they mean inconvenient.”
“Emma would have told me.”
“Would she?”
“Yes.”
“You were fighting.”
Grant froze.
“How do you know?”
Charles said nothing.
Grant’s marriage to Emma had not been perfect.
Six months before her death, they had gone through the worst period they ever experienced.
Grant worked constantly.
Emma accused him of choosing Harrison Medical over their family.
Grant accused her of resenting everything he built.
They nearly separated.
Only weeks before the accident, they reconciled.
No one knew how close the marriage had come to ending.
Except…
“Emma told you.”
“Yes.”
Grant sat down.
“What else?”
“She told me she wanted a different life.”
Grant’s chest tightened.
“No.”
“She was considering leaving.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Ask Margaret.”
Grant looked across the room.
Margaret was speaking with police.
“Why did she meet you?”
“Because she discovered Stephen wasn’t her biological father.”
“How?”
“Medical records.”
Grant tried to remember.
Emma had undergone genetic testing during pregnancy due to a family health concern.
Had that revealed something?
“She found you.”
“Yes.”
“And you waited until now to claim Rose?”
Charles’s voice hardened.
“I respected Emma’s wishes.”
“For two years?”
“She asked me to stay away.”
“Then why are you here now?”
“Because Emma is gone.”
Grant clenched his jaw.
“That doesn’t erase what she wanted.”
“No.”
Charles paused.
“But you did.”
“What does that mean?”
“You restricted Margaret’s access.”
“Margaret blamed me for Emma’s death.”
“You moved Rose away from her mother’s family.”
“I moved fifteen minutes.”
“You refused holidays.”
“Because Margaret called me a murderer in front of my daughter!”
Silence.
Grant realized his voice had risen.
Rose looked toward him.
He softened immediately.
Charles said:
“You think you’re protecting Rose.”
“I am.”
“So did I.”
Grant laughed bitterly.
“You hired a woman to marry me.”
“I didn’t hire Vanessa.”
“Richard did.”
“Richard makes his own decisions.”
“Don’t insult me.”
Charles went quiet.
Grant continued.
“You manipulated Margaret. You used a therapist. You staged custody evidence. You tried to steal control of my company.”
“That is several accusations.”
“Deny them.”
Charles did not.
Grant whispered, “You don’t care about Rose.”
The response came instantly.
“Careful.”
Grant heard anger for the first time.
“You don’t get to tell me what I feel about my granddaughter.”
“You don’t know her.”
“I know she loves strawberries but hates strawberry yogurt.”
Grant froze.
Charles continued.
“I know she refuses to sleep unless her hallway light stays on.”
Grant’s blood turned cold.
“I know she calls the moon ‘Mommy’s lamp’ because Emma once told her dead people can see you through moonlight.”
Grant stood.
“How do you know that?”
Charles did not answer.
“HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?”
Rose startled.
Grant lowered his voice.
“Who has been watching her?”
Charles said:
“I have photographs of every birthday.”
Grant’s hand shook.
“Stay away from my daughter.”
“She is Emma’s daughter too.”
“And Emma told you to stay away.”
Charles was silent.
Grant continued.
“You just admitted it.”
The older man’s voice softened.
“Emma was frightened.”
“Of you?”
“Of what knowing me would do.”
“What does that mean?”
“She knew Harrison Medical and Voss Global were competitors.”
Grant frowned.
Emma had known nothing about corporate strategy.
Or so he thought.
“She believed if you knew who I was, you would think she approached you because of me.”
Grant went still.
“What?”
Charles laughed without humor.
“Interesting, isn’t it?”
“No.”
“Your late wife discovered after marrying you that her biological father controlled one of your company’s largest competitors.”
Grant felt sick.
“How convenient.”
“She thought exactly that.”
“Did you know about Emma before she married me?”
“No.”
“Prove it.”
“I can.”
Grant stopped.
“How?”
“I kept her letters.”
Silence.
“Letters?”
“She wrote to me.”
Grant’s throat tightened.
“How many?”
“Eleven.”
“Before she died?”
“Yes.”
“Where are they?”
“With me.”
Grant stared ahead.
“Give them to me.”
“No.”
“They belong to Rose.”
“They belong to Emma.”
“And she is dead.”
Charles went quiet.
Then:
“One of the letters concerns the night she died.”
Grant stopped breathing.
“What?”
Charles’s tone changed.
“You have always believed Emma’s car accident was caused by the storm.”
“It was.”
“Maybe.”
Grant gripped the phone.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying Emma called me seventeen minutes before she crashed.”
Grant’s heartbeat hammered.
“What did she say?”
May you like
Charles paused.
“She said someone was following her.”
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