Clara looked toward Ethan.
The boy had become unusually quiet.
She folded the letter and placed it on the table.
"We're not going to keep hiding."
Margaret looked at her.
"Clara, you don't understand how complicated this could become."
"Then help me understand."
"I have told you everything I remember."
"Not everything. You said Robert knew about Dad's investigation. We need to speak to him."
Margaret looked uncomfortable.
"Robert may not want to talk."
"Then we'll find out why."
Ethan stepped forward.
"Can I come?"
"No," Clara answered immediately.
"Butโ"
"Absolutely not."
He looked disappointed.
"Mom, whoever sent that message knows where we live."
"Which is precisely why I need you somewhere safe."
Margaret reached for his hand.
"Your mother is right, darling."
Ethan glanced at the elderly woman.
"Are you going to be safe?"
Margaret managed a small smile.
"I've survived many difficult years."
"That's not the same as being safe."
His words made Margaret's expression soften.
She gently squeezed his hand.
"You're a thoughtful boy, Ethan. Your grandfather would have been proud of you."
Clara looked away.
Hearing her father's name brought back memories she had spent years trying to keep buried.
But now she had a reason to remember him.
And she intended to discover what had happened.
***
The following morning, Clara woke before sunrise.
She had barely slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the photograph of Daniel and Thomas, the mysterious man in the background, and the threatening message on her phone.
At six-thirty, she went downstairs.
Margaret was already in the kitchen.
She was sitting at the table with a cup of tea, wearing the same gray cardigan as the previous evening.
"You're awake early," Clara said.
"So are you."
"Couldn't sleep."
"Neither could I."
Clara prepared coffee and sat opposite her mother.
For a while, they said nothing.
The silence between them was different from the anger of the previous afternoon. It was heavier, filled with memories and questions neither woman knew how to approach.
Finally, Margaret spoke.
"I want you to understand something."
Clara looked up.
"All those years ago, when your father died, I didn't simply lose my husband. I lost the person who made me feel that the world was understandable."
She looked down at her cup.
"Daniel always had an explanation for everything. If something broke, he fixed it. If I was worried, he found a way to make me laugh. If you were frightened, he would sit beside your bed until you fell asleep."
Clara smiled faintly.
"I remember."
"After he died, I had to become strong very quickly. You needed a mother. You needed someone who could tell you that everything would be all right."
Margaret paused.
"But I wasn't all right myself."
Clara felt her anger soften slightly.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I thought that if I kept the frightening things away from you, you would have a chance to grow up normally."
"You could have told me when I was older."
"Yes."
"You could have trusted me."
Margaret nodded.
"Yes."
The older woman did not defend herself.
For the first time, Clara realized that her mother was not trying to justify every decision. She was admitting that some of those decisions had been wrong.
"I cannot change what I did," Margaret continued. "But I hope you will understand that I never wanted to hurt you."
Clara looked at her for a long moment.
"I don't know if I can forgive you yet."
"I understand."
"But I don't want us to become enemies."
Margaret's eyes filled with tears.
"Neither do I."
Clara reached across the table.
Their hands met.
It was a small gesture, but after years of silence and one terrible argument, it felt like the beginning of something.
Then Clara's phone rang.
The caller was Robert Hayes.
***
Robert Hayes had been a respected lawyer for more than thirty years.
His office occupied the second floor of an old commercial building near the center of town. The furniture was dark wood, the walls were lined with legal books, and a large window overlooked a busy street.
Clara remembered visiting the office once as a child.
Her father had brought her there on a Saturday morning. Robert had given her a chocolate bar and allowed her to sit in his chair while Daniel discussed some paperwork.
She remembered the man's warm smile.
She wondered whether that smile had always concealed something.
Clara answered the call.
"Hello?"
"Clara, it's Robert."
"I know."
There was a short silence.
"I understand you've been looking through your father's belongings."
"How do you know that?"
"Your mother contacted me yesterday."
Clara frowned.
"She didn't tell me that."
"She was worried."
"She has every reason to be."
Robert sighed.
"I imagine you have questions."
"I have many."
"Then perhaps we should meet."
"That's what I was planning to ask."
"Come to my office at eleven. Alone, if possible."
Clara looked toward the kitchen.
"Why alone?"
"Because there are things we should discuss privately."
"Everything concerns my family. I won't pretend otherwise."
Another silence followed.
"Very well," Robert said. "Bring whatever documents you found."
The call ended.
Clara stared at her phone.
Something about Robert's tone bothered her.
He had sounded polite, but there had been an urgency beneath his words.
As though he had been expecting this moment.
***
At ten-forty-five, Clara arrived outside Robert's office.
The street was crowded with people going about their ordinary business. Motorcycles passed, pedestrians hurried between shops, and a delivery truck blocked part of the road.
For a moment, Clara wondered whether she was being unreasonable.
Perhaps Robert simply wanted to explain what had happened.
Perhaps her father's death really had been an accident.
Perhaps the threatening messages were unrelated.