Chapter 4 - What Nolan Hid
We went back at four in the morning.
I expected Dante to send his men.
Instead, he came with me.
“This is unnecessary,” I whispered as the elevator climbed.
“Probably.”
“Then why are you here?”
He looked at the numbers above the door.
“Because fear remembers places.”
I didn’t understand until the doors opened.
Then I did.
My chest tightened immediately.
The hallway smelled exactly the same.
Cedar cleaner.
Expensive cologne.
Home.
My hands began shaking.
Dante did not touch me.
He simply stood close enough that I knew he would if I asked.
I unlocked the door.
Nothing moved inside.
We entered.
The apartment looked perfect.
Nolan always liked things perfect.
The glass coffee table.
The white sofa.
The framed photographs showing a happy couple who had never truly existed.
I turned one picture facedown.
Then we entered his office.
The bottom drawer was locked.
Marco forced it open.
I reached underneath.
The key was exactly where I remembered.
Small.
Brass.
Stamped with the number 418.
Dante examined it.
“Storage locker.”
Marco nodded.
“Probably.”
Then I saw the folder.
It had fallen behind the drawer when Marco pulled it free.
My name was written on the tab.
EMILY CARTER.
I stopped breathing.
Dante noticed.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
I opened the folder.
Photographs spilled across the desk.
Pictures of me leaving work.
Buying coffee.
Visiting my mother.
Walking through Lincoln Park.
Some were dated before I had met Nolan.
My knees weakened.
“He was watching me before we met.”
Dante picked up one photograph.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He turned it around.
I was twenty-three in the picture.
Standing outside a courthouse.
Behind me was my father.
Thomas Carter.
Dante stared at him.
“You know my dad?”
He did not answer immediately.
That was enough.
“Dante.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
He placed the photograph down.
“Your father was an accountant.”
“I know.”
“He handled money for people he shouldn’t have.”
My pulse started pounding.
“My father died in a car accident.”
Dante’s eyes stayed on mine.
“No, Emily.”
The room became unbearably quiet.
“Your father was murdered.”
And suddenly Nolan’s obsession with me no longer looked like love gone wrong.
May you like
It looked like an assignment.
---
