Chapter 3 - THE VOICE BEHIND THE WALL
Evelyn was discharged two days later.
She did not return to the Whitmore mansion.
Marcus took her to a quiet guesthouse near the coast.
The house was small, warm, and unfamiliar.
For the first time in months, Evelyn slept without hearing Vivian's footsteps outside her door.
But peace did not last.
At three in the morning, her phone rang.
The number was blocked.
Evelyn answered.
No one spoke.
Then she heard breathing.
A man's voice whispered:
“Your mother didn't die naturally.”
The call ended.
Evelyn sat upright.
Marcus entered the room moments later.
“What happened?”
She told him.
His expression changed.
“Did you recognize the voice?”
“No.”
Marcus walked to the window.
For a long time, he said nothing.
Then Evelyn noticed something.
“You knew.”
Marcus turned.
“Knew what?”
“That my mother’s death was suspicious.”
Marcus looked down.
“I knew she was afraid before she died.”
“Afraid of Vivian?”
“Afraid of the Whitmores.”
That morning, Marcus showed Evelyn a hidden file.
Inside were old newspaper articles.
Her mother's name appeared repeatedly.
CLAIRE HART FINANCIAL STRATEGIST BEHIND WHITMORE GLOBAL'S EARLY EXPANSION.
Evelyn stared at the photographs.
Her mother had never talked about it.
“She helped build the company?”
“She helped save it.”
“Then why did she leave?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Because Nathaniel Whitmore promised her protection.”
“And Vivian?”
“Vivian wanted control.”
Evelyn read the documents.
A pattern emerged.
Every time Claire challenged Vivian, something happened.
A contract disappeared.
A bank account was frozen.
A board member resigned.
Then Claire died.
Evelyn's hands began to shake.
Marcus reached for another file.
“This is why Vivian is afraid of you.”
Inside was a legal document.
The trust did not belong to Evelyn.
It belonged to her unborn child.
But Evelyn was named the temporary guardian.
If the child was born alive, the trust became active.
“That's why she wanted the baby taken from me.”
Marcus nodded.
“She cannot control the trust if you are legally recognized as the child's guardian.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“Then why not just kill me?”
Marcus's silence was terrifying.
Before he could answer, the lights went out.
Evelyn froze.
A sound came from the hallway.
A footstep.
Then another.
Marcus reached for the drawer beside him.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Evelyn—”
“I am done staying in rooms while men decide what happens to me.”
The footsteps stopped.
A shadow moved beneath the door.
Marcus opened it.
The hallway was empty.
But on the floor lay a small envelope.
Evelyn opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Her mother.
Standing beside Nathaniel Whitmore.
And behind them, barely visible, was Vivian.
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On the back of the photograph, someone had written:
ASK WHO REALLY DIED THAT NIGHT.
