Chapter 180 A Father’s Cryptic Warning
The sky was gray when Annabelle arrived at Greenhill Correctional Facility. The cold wind brushed against her face as she stepped out of her car.
The tall iron gates looked taller than she remembered, their black bars stretching toward the clouds. She tightened her coat around her and walked toward the entrance, her heels clicking softly on the wet pavement.
Inside, the air smelled of metal and disinfectant. The guard behind the counter checked her ID, then nodded. “You’re here to see Carson?”
“Yes,” she said quietly.
“Follow the yellow line to the visitor’s room,” he instructed. “Wait until the signal light turns green before entering.”
She nodded and followed the painted line on the floor. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears with each step. The corridor was long, narrow, and silent except for the buzz of the lights above.
When she reached the visitor’s room, she stopped. A glass wall divided the space in half. Two phones hung on either side of the partition. The light above the door blinked green. She stepped inside.
On the other side, a guard led Carson in. Annabelle’s breath caught.
Her father looked older—much older. His hair was grayer, his shoulders slightly bent. But his eyes were the same: sharp, deep, and calm.
He sat down slowly, his chains clinking softly. When he looked up at her, a faint smile touched his lips.
“Annie,” he said through the glass, his voice low.
She picked up the phone with trembling hands. “Hi, Dad.”
For a few seconds, they said nothing. They just stared at each other, time stretching between them.
“You’ve grown,” he said with a small laugh. “And I see your name everywhere now. My little girl, a business legend.”
Annabelle smiled faintly. “You heard about that?”
“I see the magazines sometimes,” he said, his eyes warm but tired. “The guards leave them lying around. I’m proud of you, Annie. You did what I always knew you could.”
Her throat tightened. “It doesn’t feel like much.”
He tilted his head. “Why not?”
“Because you’re still here,” she whispered.
The smile faded from his face. His eyes softened with sorrow. “You finally came,” he said quietly. “I wondered how long it would take.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breaking. “I should’ve come sooner. I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of what I might learn,” she said, lowering her eyes.
Carson was silent for a while. When he spoke again, his voice was steady. “Sometimes, not knowing feels safer. But you’re not like that, Annie. You were born to dig where others stop.”
She looked at him. “Then tell me the truth. Did you do it? Did you really commit fraud?”
He leaned closer to the glass, his eyes serious now. “You still think it was that simple?”
“I read the files. The evidence looked clear,” she said.
“Clear,” he repeated softly. “Yes, that’s how they wanted it to look.”
Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
He glanced toward the guards near the far wall. Then he leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice. “The people who took me down weren’t just after me. They were after what I protected.”
Annabelle frowned. “Protected? What are you talking about?”
He gave a small, tired smile. “There are things, Annie, that can’t be written down. Deals made in whispers. Faces that stay in the shadows. I thought I could outsmart them. I was wrong.”
“Who are you talking about?” she pressed.
His eyes darkened. “The true architects,” he said slowly. “The ones who pull the strings behind the scenes. They made sure the evidence pointed to me. Every document, every witness—it was all placed exactly right.”
Annabelle felt her stomach twist. “Then why didn’t you say anything during your trial?”
“Because I couldn’t,” he said. “And even if I did, no one would’ve believed me. Not against them.”
“Who are ‘they,’ Dad?” she asked again, her voice trembling.
Carson looked down at his hands. “You don’t want to know their names.”
“Yes, I do,” she said firmly. “If they did this to you, they’ll pay for it.”
He looked up, his eyes filled with something that made her chest tighten—fear. “Annie,” he said quietly, “you must promise me something. Don’t dig too deep.”
“I can’t just ignore this!”
He shook his head. “The truth isn’t what you think it is. The closer you get, the less safe you’ll be.”
“I can take care of myself,” she said.
Carson’s lips curved into a sad smile. “That’s what I thought too.”
Annabelle leaned closer to the glass. “Tell me, Dad. Please.”
He studied her face for a long time. Then he sighed. “You’ve built a powerful life, Annie. But power attracts eyes. Some of those eyes are watching you even now.”
Her blood ran cold. “What do you mean?”
He glanced again toward the guards, then back to her. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Those closest to you may not be who they seem. Be careful who you trust.”
She froze. “Are you saying someone I know is involved?”
He didn’t answer directly. “Sometimes betrayal wears a smile. Sometimes it shakes your hand and calls you friend.”
Her fingers gripped the phone tightly. “You’re scaring me.”
“Good,” he said softly. “Fear will keep you alive.”
“Please, Dad,” she pleaded. “I need names. I need something real.”
He looked at her, and for a moment, his eyes glistened. “If I tell you, they’ll come for you too. And I couldn’t bear that.”
Tears filled her eyes. “You’re already paying for something you didn’t do. How can I walk away?”
He smiled faintly. “You always were stubborn.”
“I learned from you.”
That made him laugh—a low, tired laugh that faded into a sigh. “Listen to me, Annie. Go home. Stay quiet. Watch everyone, but trust no one. The truth will come to you when it’s ready. Don’t chase it.”
The guard tapped his watch, signaling that time was up.
Annabelle’s heart sank. “Wait—just tell me one thing. Were they people from the company?”
Her father hesitated, then nodded once—slowly.
Before she could say another word, the guard took him by the arm. Carson gave her one last look, his eyes filled with something heavy and unspoken.
“Remember what I said,” he whispered. “Not everyone standing beside you is on your side.”
Then he was gone. The door shut behind him with a metallic thud.
Annabelle sat still, staring at the empty chair. Her fingers were cold around the phone. The glass between them reflected her pale face and wide eyes.
Outside, the sky had grown darker. She walked to her car, her legs weak. The words echoed in her head over and over.
Those closest to you may not be who they seem.
When she reached her car, she gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying to steady her breathing. Somewhere deep inside her, a quiet fear had begun to grow—small but sharp.