PART 2 — My Son Showed Me the One Thing Arthur Never Wanted Me to See

Ethan didn’t say another word until we reached his car.

He opened the trunk and pulled out a thick folder.

“Mom, I need you to stay calm.”

My hands were already shaking.

“What is this?”

“Everything I found.”

He spread the papers across the trunk.

The first thing I saw was Arthur’s name.

Then another name.

A woman’s name.

I looked at Ethan.

“Who is she?”

“His former business partner.”

I frowned.

“What does she have to do with Camille?”

“More than you think.”

Ethan handed me a photograph.

It showed Arthur standing outside a courthouse six years earlier.

Beside him was the same woman.

Then he showed me another.

Arthur and the woman were sitting together at a restaurant.

Another photograph showed them entering a hotel.

I felt sick.

“Are you telling me he was cheating on me?”

Ethan shook his head.

“No, Mom. Look at the dates.”

I checked.

They were taken after my divorce.

“But that’s not the problem.”

He handed me a legal document.

Arthur had been involved in a lawsuit.

A serious one.

His business had collapsed after he was accused of hiding money from investors.

The case had eventually been settled.

But then Ethan showed me something that made my heart stop.

A bank transfer.

A large one.

The money had gone into an account belonging to Camille.

“Why would Arthur send my daughter money?”

Ethan looked at me.

“Because he started preparing for this marriage almost three years before Camille knew him.”

I couldn’t breathe.

“What?”

“He knew exactly who she was.”

I stared at him.

“Camille told me they met through friends.”

“She lied.”

“Why?”

Ethan pulled out his phone.

“I found these messages.”

He showed me a conversation between Arthur and the woman from the photographs.

One message read:

“Once I marry Camille, everything will finally be back where it belongs.”

My stomach dropped.

“Back where it belongs?”

Ethan nodded.

“That was the part I couldn’t understand.”

Then he showed me a second message.

“Her mother still has no idea what happened to the money.”

I felt the world tilt beneath my feet.

“What money?”

Ethan looked directly into my eyes.

“Dad’s.”

My first husband.

The father of my children.

Years earlier, during our divorce, there had been a small family investment account.

I had never fought over it.

I thought it had been divided fairly.

But apparently, it hadn’t.

Ethan explained that Arthur had somehow obtained documents from that account.

And according to the records, someone had been moving money from it for years.

Someone connected to Arthur.

I suddenly remembered something.

During my marriage to Arthur, he had once asked me about an old box of financial documents.

I had forgotten about it.

Now I understood why he’d been interested.

But Ethan wasn’t finished.

“There’s one more thing.”

He opened a video on his phone.

It was security footage from three weeks earlier.

Arthur was entering my daughter’s apartment.

But he wasn’t alone.

The woman from the photographs was with him.

They were carrying boxes.

I watched in silence.

Then I heard Arthur say something.

Even through the poor audio, I recognized his voice.

“Once the wedding happens, she won’t question anything.”

My blood ran cold.

Ethan stopped the video.

“Mom, I think Camille is being used.”

I shook my head.

“But why would she agree to marry him?”

“Maybe she doesn’t know.”

I looked back toward the reception hall.

My daughter was laughing.

Arthur had his arm around her.

Everyone was celebrating.

And suddenly, I wasn’t looking at a wedding anymore.

I was looking at a trap.

Then my phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number appeared on the screen.

“Don’t tell Camille anything yet.”

A second message arrived immediately after.

“Arthur knows Ethan found out.”

I looked at my son.

He had received the same message.

Then the reception doors suddenly opened.

Arthur was standing there.

He wasn’t smiling anymore.

He was looking directly at us.

And in his hand…

was the same folder Ethan had just shown me.

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