Chapter 11 - THE CALL AFTER MIDNIGHT
Three weeks had passed since the charity gala.
For the first time in years, the Whitaker estate felt like a home rather than a fortress.
The girls had gone back to school.
Clara had settled into a new role at the foundation.
And I had finally learned how to leave my phone unanswered for an entire dinner.
That night, Avery and Sophie were asleep upstairs.
Clara and I were sitting on the back patio, listening to the soft sound of water moving through the pool.
"I still can't believe this is your life now," Clara said.
I smiled.
"Mine either."
Then my phone rang.
Not my regular phone.
The secure line.
I looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
I answered.
"Hello?"
For several seconds, there was only static.
Then a man's voice spoke.
"Mr. Whitaker."
My entire body went still.
"Who is this?"
"You don't know me."
"Then why are you calling?"
A pause.
"Because your war with Patricia wasn't the end."
Clara immediately noticed the change in my expression.
I stood.
"What do you want?"
"I want you to remember something."
"What?"
"The night your wife died."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"Don't talk about my wife."
"You were told she died in an accident."
"I know what happened."
"No."
His voice became quieter.
"You know what they wanted you to believe."
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Clara stood beside me.
"What did he say?"
I looked toward the dark windows of the house.
Then toward the upstairs bedroom where my daughters were sleeping.
"He said Patricia wasn't the end."
And for the first time since we had won, I felt that old darkness returning.
May you like
Not outside the house.
Inside it.
