For the first time that night, he understood that the most important thing he had recovered was not the truth about his company.
It was the truth about his daughter.
The following morning, Arthur and Emily arrived at the office earlier than expected.
Daniel was waiting in the lobby.
He had barely slept.
“Mr. Bennett, Linda has agreed to meet us.”
Arthur nodded.
“Where?”
“She wants to speak at her home. She says she doesn't feel safe discussing this at the office.”
Arthur looked at Emily.
“Then we'll go there.”
Daniel hesitated.
“There's something else.”
Arthur turned.
“What now?”
“Richard has contacted the board. He's demanding that the suspension of the sale be reversed.”
Arthur gave a tired smile.
“He can demand whatever he likes.”
“He's also threatening legal action against anyone who discloses confidential company records.”
Arthur looked at him.
“Then we'd better make sure everything we disclose is accurate.”
Daniel nodded.
“I've already contacted an independent legal team.”
Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Good. And Daniel?”
“Yes?”
“Don't protect me. Don't protect the company. Protect the truth.”
Daniel nodded.
“I will.”
Linda's house was located in a quiet residential neighborhood outside the city.
It was a modest two-story home with a small garden and a white wooden fence.
When the door opened, Arthur immediately recognized her.
She had aged considerably.
Her hair was almost completely gray, and she leaned slightly on a walking stick.
“Mr. Bennett.”
Arthur looked at her.
“Linda.”
She stepped aside.
“Please come in.”
The living room was filled with photographs of her children and grandchildren.
Arthur noticed an old photograph on the mantelpiece.
It showed Linda standing beside Eleanor at a company charity event.
“You kept that picture,” he said.
Linda followed his gaze.
“Yes.”
“Eleanor always liked you.”
Linda lowered her eyes.
“She was a wonderful woman.”
Arthur nodded.
“She was.”
They sat down.
Emily remained beside her grandfather.
Daniel took a chair near the window.
Linda placed a cup of tea on the table.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Finally, Arthur broke the silence.
“Linda, I want to ask you something.”
She looked at him.
“Go ahead.”
“Why did you stop my daughter's letters from reaching me?”
Linda's hands began trembling.
“I was told to.”
“By Richard?”
She nodded.
“Initially, yes.”
Arthur leaned forward.
“And later?”
Linda looked down at her tea.
“Later, I did it because I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“My family.”
Arthur waited.
Linda began to speak.
“Richard told me that the company was in danger. He said you were making decisions that could destroy everything. He said Margaret was trying to take advantage of your grief.”
Arthur's expression hardened.
“He told you that?”
“Yes.”
“And you believed him?”
“I did at first.”
Linda wiped her eyes.
“He showed me documents. Bank statements. Messages. Letters that appeared to come from Margaret. They suggested she was planning to take control of your personal assets.”
Arthur looked at Emily.
Her mother had been telling the truth.
Linda continued.
“Then he asked me to redirect the correspondence. He said it would only be temporary, until you were feeling better.”
Arthur shook his head.
“And you agreed.”
“Yes.”
“How much were you paid?”
Linda began crying.
“Nothing at first.”
“Then?”
“Richard arranged for my son to receive a management position at one of the company's suppliers. Later, he helped my daughter get a scholarship through a private foundation.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Was the foundation connected to Northstar?”
Linda looked at him.
“Yes.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Arthur stared at her.
“So you sold your integrity for favors.”
Linda nodded.
“I know.”
“Did you ever think about the consequences?”
“Every day.”
“Then why didn't you stop?”
Linda looked directly at him.
“Because by the time I realized what Richard had done, I had already become part of it. I was ashamed. I thought if I told you, I would lose everything.”
Arthur remained silent.
Linda continued.
“Then Margaret stopped writing. You stopped asking. And I convinced myself that perhaps it was better for everyone if the past remained buried.”
Arthur's voice became quiet.
“Do you know how many years I spent wondering why my daughter no longer wanted to see me?”
Linda began sobbing.
“I am sorry.”
Arthur looked at her.
“Sorry is a very small word for twelve years.”
“I know.”
He stood and walked toward the window.
Outside, an elderly man was trimming the hedge.
Arthur watched him for a moment.
Then he turned back.
“Did Richard know that Margaret was trying to contact me before she died?”
Linda nodded.
“Yes.”
“Did he know she was ill?”
“Yes.”
Arthur's face became pale.
“Did he tell me?”
Linda shook her head.
“No.”
Arthur closed his eyes.
“Why?”
“Because he didn't want you to return.”
The room fell silent.
Emily looked at her grandfather.
He seemed to have aged several years in a single moment.
“Did Margaret know that I had never received her letters?” he asked.
Linda nodded.
“She found out after she visited the old office.”
Arthur looked at her.
“What happened?”
“She discovered copies of the correspondence logs. She realized that her letters had been redirected.”
“Then why didn't she call me again?”
Linda looked down.
“She did.”
Arthur stared at her.
“When?”
“About three years before she died.”
Arthur gripped the back of the chair.
“What did she say?”
“She asked me to arrange a meeting.”
“And?”
“I told her you were too ill to see her.”