Chapter 7 - What Was Buried
No one spoke.
Not because they didn’t have questions—but because every question suddenly felt dangerous.
Richard Cross stared at the photograph as if it might change if he looked long enough. His reflection trembled faintly in the glass table beneath it.
“I remember this,” he said finally, his voice low, uneven. “This was taken… years ago.”
“Yes,” Elara replied. “Before you decided I didn’t exist.”
Victoria let out a sharp breath. “That’s not true. We never—”
“You didn’t ask,” Elara cut in, still calm. “You didn’t look. You didn’t want complications.”
Daniel’s eyes darted between them. “Someone explain this—now.”
Richard closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them again. The composure he had built over decades was cracking.
“There was… a situation,” he said. “Before everything we have now. Before the company grew. Before the reputation.”
Elara said nothing. She didn’t need to.
Richard swallowed. “A woman I was involved with. It wasn’t meant to be permanent.”
“And when she became inconvenient,” Elara added, “you removed her.”
Victoria’s voice rose. “That’s not fair!”
“It’s accurate.”
The word landed with surgical precision.
Richard looked at Elara again—really looked this time. At the calm in her eyes. The strength in her posture. The complete absence of fear.
“You’re saying…” he began slowly, “that you are—”
“Your daughter,” she finished.
Silence.
May you like
Not the fragile silence from earlier.
This one was heavy. Irreversible.
