Chapter 137 Piece By Piece

Chapter 137 Piece By Piece
I sat there staring at the papers spread across the table, but honestly, I wasn't really seeing them anymore.

It was a lot.

Too much, maybe.

And yet, it didn't explain why my father was still missing or why Miranda had gone after me so relentlessly.

And here I was feeling sorry for her.

I rubbed my palms against my knees and swallowed hard.

"So what happens now?" I finally asked.

Brian leaned back in his chair; his expression was unusually serious.

"That's exactly what I've been trying to figure out."

Dylan folded his arms across his chest.

"Miranda's past may be the key," Brian said.

I gave Brian a puzzled look. "The key to what?"

"To understanding what she's planning next."

My stomach tightened.

"Or," he continued, "it might give us a clue about where your father is and how we can get him back."

I immediately sat up straighter. "My father?"

Brian nodded. "I'm not saying Miranda's past will magically lead us straight to him. But look at everything she's done. She didn't just wake up one morning and decide to destroy your family. There was a pattern."

Dylan frowned. "She kidnapped Reet's father because of her hatred for us."

"Maybe," Brian replied. "But I'm starting to think there's more to it."

I stared at him. "What more could there possibly be?"

Brian picked up one of the documents and tapped it lightly against the table.

"That's what I want to find out."

I looked down at the paper again and then at Brian.

"Brian," I said quietly, "please don't make this sound more complicated than it already is."

He shrugged lightly. "I'm not trying to."

I blinked. "Because I can't handle another mystery." My voice cracked slightly, and I hated that it did.

Then I lowered my gaze. "I just want my father back," I muttered.

Dylan's hand moved toward mine.

He hesitated for only a second before gently taking it.

I looked at our joined hands and felt something inside me loosen.

"We're going to find him," Dylan said quietly.

I looked at him. "You don't know that."

"No," he admitted. "I don't." His thumb moved once across the back of my hand.

"But we're not giving up."

I stared at him for a moment before nodding.

Brian cleared his throat. "There's something else."

I looked up. "What is it again?"

Brian didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he gathered the papers together slowly, arranging them into a neat stack. There was something about the way he was doing it that made me uneasy.

"Brian?"

He looked at me, and then he sighed. "As much as I dread sounding like a frustrated detective, I found something else while I was going through some old records."

Dylan's expression changed. "What kind of something?"

Brian glanced at him, then at me. "It's also connected to Miranda."

I felt my stomach drop.

Not again.

I almost rolled my eyes.

Brian continued talking. “I know this might sound stupid considering we'd already established the fact that Mr Carter didn't give Miranda and her mother sufficient support, but…” He paused. “There's also some information I found out that contradicts that fact.”

I frowned. “Which is…?”

“That Mr Carter didn't abandon them willingly.” Brian blurted.

I scoffed. “You're kidding, right? That's ridiculous information.”

Dylan shifted beside me with a serious expression. "What do you mean he didn't abandon them willingly?"

Brian didn't respond.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair.

"I mean exactly what I said." He said, and tapped the document with one finger. "It appears Mr. Carter tried to maintain contact with Miranda and her mother."

My stomach tightened. "Then why didn't they know?"

Brian looked directly at me. "That's the question."

I quickly pulled my chair closer to the table. "Brian, so you're telling us that everything Miranda said about her father was wrong?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm just telling you that Miranda may have only known part of the truth."

I swallowed.

That distinction frightened me more.

Then Brian reached into a folder and brought out letters. He scattered them out on the table for us to see.

I picked up the first page, and my eyes moved over the words.

It wasn't a love letter.

It wasn't an apology either.

It was the letter of a father trying to reach his daughter.

He talked about wanting to see Miranda.

He asked about her mother.

He said he had sent money.

He asked where they were staying.

He promised he wouldn't cause trouble.

That he only wanted to know that they were safe.

My chest tightened.

"He wrote this?" I whispered.

Brian nodded. "There are several of those."

Dylan took the paper from my hand as his eyes moved rapidly across the page.

Then he looked up. "Why didn't he send these?"

"Your father actually did," Brian said quietly.

Dylan froze.

"He sent them." Brian reached for another folder. "And that's where this gets complicated."

Then Brian pulled out a file and opened it.

Inside were copies of envelopes, delivery records, bank statements, and old correspondence.

I stared at them, trying to understand what I was seeing.

"Some of these letters were returned," Brian explained. “While others were marked undeliverable."

Brian continued. "It looked like every time Mr. Carter found out where Miranda and her mother were living, the address changed shortly afterward."

A chill moved through me. "That can't be a coincidence."

Brian shook his head. "It isn't."

Dylan's expression hardened. "So someone was interfering."

Brian shrugged. "Possibly."

"No," Dylan said sharply. "Not possibly."

Brian looked at him.

Then Dylan's hands curled into fists. "If someone kept changing their address every time Dad found them, then someone was deliberately keeping them away from him."

Brian didn't argue. Instead, he pulled out another document. "This is what makes me believe that."

He placed it on the table.

It was a copy of a letter from a lawyer.

My eyes scanned the page and observed that there was a reference to communication restrictions.

I frowned. "What's this?"

Brian exhaled slowly. "An intermediary. I mean.. I know the name." He turned the page around. "But I haven't been able to establish the full connection."

Dylan grabbed the document.

His eyes widened slightly.

"Wait." He looked at Brian. "This person worked for my father?"

"At one point, but I find it suspicious,” Brian said.

My head was spinning.

Silence settled over the room.

I looked from Brian to Dylan.

Something was beginning to form in my mind.

"Maybe Miranda's mother didn't want Mr Carter around and returned the letters," I said.

Brian looked at me. "That's possible."

"No." Dylan's voice cut through the room.

I looked at him.

Dylan shook his head. "Miranda's mother wouldn't have hidden from my father without a reason. But even if she had, that doesn't explain these right here." He pointed at some of the letters.

"These aren't all addressed to Elena," Dylan said thoughtfully.

I frowned.

He was right.