“No.”
Callum stepped closer.
“The man chasing you was Adrian Vale, a senior executive at Hartwell & Pierce.”
I remembered his face.
The elegant suits.
The expensive watches.
The speech he gave at the company Christmas party.
“What happened to the folder?”
“We never found it,” Mara said.
“Then why did everyone think I had evidence?”
“Because Daniel left a message before he died.”
She handed me an old photocopy.
Three words were written across it:
**SHE KNOWS HOME.**
I stared.
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither did we.”
Callum looked at me.
“That’s why I approached you.”
“So you dated me to search my life.”
“At first.”
My eyes burned.
“How long?”
He hesitated.
“Eleven days.”
I almost laughed.
“Eleven days?”
“On day twelve, Mara ordered me to break contact.”
“Why?”
“Because we determined you didn’t know anything.”
I stared at him.
“But you didn’t leave.”
“No.”
“Why?”
His voice broke.
**“Because by then I was already in love with you.”**
I wanted to believe him.
That was the worst part.
“You should have told me.”
“I know.”
“You let me marry you without knowing how we met.”
“I tried to tell you.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
He reached into his pocket and removed his wedding vow booklet.
Inside the back cover was a folded letter.
My name was written across it.
“I put the locker key in my tuxedo because I planned to take you there after the reception. The photographs, the case documents, everything—I wanted you to see the truth before our honeymoon.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Because you looked at me during our first dance and said it was the happiest day of your life.”
His eyes filled.
“And I became a coward.”
Before I could answer, Mara’s phone buzzed.
She read the message.
Her face changed.
“What?”
She slowly looked at Callum.
“They found Daniel’s final file.”
“Where?”
Mara looked at me.
**“Your honeymoon reservation.”**
# PART 6 — THE SECRET WAITING IN COSTA RICA
At first, I thought I had misunderstood.
“My honeymoon?”
Mara turned her phone toward us.
A scanned document showed an account number followed by coordinates.
Callum recognized them first.
“Costa Rica.”
My skin prickled.
“The hotel?”
“No,” Mara said. “About twenty miles from it.”
Callum stared at me.
“Who chose Costa Rica?”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
I suddenly remembered.
Daniel.
When I was sixteen, he and I had made a ridiculous list of places we would visit someday.
Paris.
Tokyo.
Iceland.
And Costa Rica.
He had circled Costa Rica and written:
**HOME WHEN EVERYTHING GETS TOO LOUD.**
My breath stopped.
She knows home.
Not our childhood home.
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