That silence told her everything.
“You knew.”
“Dani—”
“You knew it existed.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Her father exhaled slowly.
“Because your mother asked me not to.”
Danielle stared at the envelope.
“She wrote a letter to me.”
Another silence.
“Dad?”
“I know.”
Anger replaced fear.
“You knew?”
“She told me it was there.”
“For eleven years?”
“Yes.”
“And you never thought I deserved to know?”
“She told me you should only open it if the project returned.”
“Why?”
“I don't know everything.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it's true.”
“Then tell me what you do know.”
Harold was silent for several seconds.
“Your mother didn't die believing the project was finished.”
Danielle felt cold.
“What does that mean?”
“She believed Richard would eventually try again.”
“Why?”
“Because too much money was tied to that land.”
Danielle looked at the letter.
“Who is the man in the photograph?”
“What photograph?”
“Mom, Richard, and another man.”
Harold inhaled sharply.
That was enough.
“You know him.”
“I saw him once.”
“Who is he?”
“Michael Reeves.”
Danielle wrote the name down.
“Who was he?”
“He worked for Richard.”
“What did he do?”
“I don't know his title. Development. Finance. Something senior.”
“And Mom wrote that he agreed to tell the truth.”
Harold became quiet.
“Dad.”
“He was the one who gave her the original test results.”
There it was.
Danielle sat down.
“What test results?”
“The soil.”
Harold's voice became tired.
“The waterfront property had industrial contamination. Your mother was part of an advisory review. The public numbers didn't match the laboratory results she'd seen earlier.”
“Why would anyone change them?”
“Money.”
The simplest answer.
Usually the correct one.
Harold continued.
“Full remediation would have cost tens of millions. Maybe enough to make the original development impossible.”
“And Richard knew?”
“Your mother believed he did.”
“Believed?”
“She never had enough evidence to prove who ordered what.”
Danielle looked at Richard's signature in the binder.
“What happened to Michael Reeves?”
“He disappeared.”
Danielle froze.
“What do you mean disappeared?”
“Not literally. He resigned. Moved away. Stopped returning your mother's calls.”
“Is he alive?”
“As far as I know.”
Danielle looked at the anonymous message.
Whatever you found in Evelyn's files, do not give it to Liang Chen.
“Dad, did Mom know Liang?”
“Yes.”
“Did she trust him?”
Harold hesitated.
That hesitation scared Danielle more than the answer.
“She liked him.”