When nothing goes right, turn left

The secrets we weren't meant to keep

Elijah leaned back, the weight of his words settling into the silence.

"This isn't about a transfer," he said slowly, fingers tapping against the desk. "It's about an agreement—a deal that was set in motion long before you ever started asking questions."

Veronica's throat tightened. "What kind of deal?"

Elijah exhaled, then looked directly at William.

"One that involved your family."

William stiffened. "That doesn't make sense."

"It makes perfect sense," Elijah murmured. "Because your father helped arrange it."

Veronica's pulse stalled.

She turned toward William, heart hammering.

"Your father?" she whispered.

William shook his head, disbelief flickering in his expression. "That's not possible. He didn't—he wouldn't—"

"He did," Elijah interrupted. "And if you don't believe me, check the financial records. The transactions are there. Tied to your family's name."

William's jaw clenched, emotions tangled beneath the surface.

Veronica barely breathed.

Hilary's transfer. R.T.'s signature. Smith's investigation.

And now—William's family was part of it.

Elijah studied them for a moment, then sighed.

"Walk away while you still can," he said softly. "Because once you see the whole picture, you won't be able to forget it."

Veronica swallowed.

She wasn't walking away.

Neither was William.

........

William pushed open the front door of his family's estate, the heavy silence inside pressing down like a warning.

Veronica stood just behind him, watching as he strode across the marble floor toward the study, where his father's voice murmured from inside.

He didn't knock.

He just walked in.

His father looked up, startled—but only for a moment.

"William."

"What did you do?" William's voice was sharp, controlled—but barely.

His father sighed, setting down his pen. "You'll have to be more specific."

"Elijah Caldwell told me everything. You signed off on Hilary's transfer. You were part of it."

His father's expression barely shifted, but Veronica saw it—the slight tension in his jaw, the flicker in his eyes.

"Elijah shouldn't have said anything," he murmured.

William's pulse hammered.

"So it's true."

His father leaned back, studying him. "It was business. You wouldn't understand."

"You signed off on people," William snapped. "On Hilary. On whatever came before that."

His father didn't deny it.

Veronica swallowed hard. "Did Smith know?"

His father finally looked at her, his gaze sharper now.

"Smith was a problem," he said simply.

Veronica stiffened. "He was killed."

His father nodded, but he didn't look surprised.

And that was all William needed to see.

"You knew," he whispered.

His father exhaled slowly. "I suggest you stop asking questions, William. For your own sake."

Silence stretched, thick, heavy.

And just like that, William wasn't looking at his father the same way anymore.