\u201cClara, your father is still alive.\u201d
\nFor one second, everything around me disappeared.
\nThe pounding on the bedroom door.
\nThe footsteps outside.
\nVictor\u2019s voice in my ear.
\nEven my own breathing.
\nAll I could see was the photograph trembling between my fingers.
\nMy father.
\nThomas Bennett.
\nAlive.
\nStanding beside Julian.
\nSmiling.
\nThe picture had been taken eight months after I buried him.
\n\u201cNo,\u201d I whispered.
\nThe bedroom door shook violently.
\nI snapped back to reality.
\nVictor\u2019s voice sharpened.
\n\u201cClara, move.\u201d
\nI shoved the photograph into my pocket.
\n\u201cWhere?\u201d
\n\u201cBathroom. There\u2019s a service access panel behind the linen cabinet.\u201d
\n\u201cHow do you know my apartment better than I do?\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019ll explain if you survive the next five minutes.\u201d
\nAnother brutal \u0443\u0434\u0430\u0440 slammed into the bedroom door.
\nThe wood cracked near the lock.
\nI ran into the bathroom and pulled open the linen cabinet.
\nNothing.
\n\u201cTowels,\u201d Victor said.
\n\u201cMove them.\u201d
\nI threw everything onto the floor.
\nBehind the shelves was a narrow metal panel.
\nI found the latch.
\nPulled.
\nA dark maintenance passage opened behind the wall.
\n\u201cYou\u2019re joking.\u201d
\n\u201cGet inside.\u201d
\nI squeezed through.
\nThe opening was barely wide enough for my shoulders.
\n\u201cClose it behind you.\u201d
\nI did.
\nSeconds later, the bedroom door exploded open.
\nI heard heavy footsteps.
\nDrawers opening.
\nFurniture moving.
\nA man cursed.
\nThen another voice answered him.
\nThere were two.
\nMy hand flew over my mouth.
\nThey weren\u2019t burglars.
\nThey were searching for something.
\nOr someone.
\nMe.
\nI crawled through the narrow passage until Victor told me to stop.
\n\u201cThere should be a metal ladder.\u201d
\nMy fingers found it.
\n\u201cDown?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cHow far?\u201d
\n\u201cTwo floors.\u201d
\nI started climbing.
\nMy wedding dress had been hanging in the apartment less than twenty-four hours earlier.
\nNow I was escaping through the walls from men connected to my husband.
\nThe absurdity almost made me laugh.
\nAlmost.
\nI reached the lower level and stepped into another maintenance corridor.
\n\u201cNow what?\u201d
\n\u201cTurn right.\u201d
\nI followed his instructions until I reached a steel door.
\n\u201cOpen it.\u201d
\n\u201cIt\u2019s locked.\u201d
\n\u201cLook above the frame.\u201d
\nI reached up.
\nA key was taped there.
\nMy stomach twisted.
\n\u201cVictor.\u201d
\n\u201cYes?\u201d
\n\u201cWhy is there a key waiting for me?\u201d
\nSilence.
\nThat silence told me more than any answer could.
\n\u201cYou expected this.\u201d
\n\u201cI expected something.\u201d
\n\u201cYou knew Julian would come after me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI knew he had prepared for the possibility.\u201d
\nI unlocked the door.
\nIt opened into the underground parking garage.
\nA black SUV sat twenty feet away with the engine running.
\nMy body stopped.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cGet in.\u201d
\n\u201cAbsolutely not.\u201d
\n\u201cClara.\u201d
\n\u201cYou expect me to climb into a strange car after telling me my dead father is alive?\u201d
\nVictor exhaled.
\n\u201cFair point.\u201d
\nThe rear window lowered.
\nMartin Hale was sitting inside.
\nI stared at him.
\nHe looked terrified.
\n\u201cClara,\u201d he said, \u201cplease.\u201d
\nI stepped closer.
\n\u201cWhat are you doing here?\u201d
\n\u201cTrying to fix the mistake I made.\u201d
\n\u201cWhich one?\u201d
\nHis face tightened.
\n\u201cBelieving your father when he told me silence would protect you.\u201d
\nMy pulse jumped.
\n\u201cWhat did you just say?\u201d
\nMartin opened the door.
\n\u201cGet in.\u201d
\nI didn\u2019t move.
\nBehind me, somewhere inside the building, a fire alarm suddenly started ringing.
\nVictor spoke through my phone.
\n\u201cThey know you escaped.\u201d
\nThat was enough.
\nI got inside.
\nThe SUV moved immediately.
\nMartin locked the doors.
\nFor several blocks, neither of us spoke.
\nI stared at him.
\nThen at the photograph in my hand.
\nFinally I said,
\n\u201cTell me everything.\u201d
\nMartin closed his eyes.
\n\u201cYour father\u2019s death was staged.\u201d
\nI felt the words like a physical blow.
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause someone was trying to kill him.\u201d
\n\u201cWho?\u201d
\n\u201cThat was the problem.\u201d
\nMartin looked at me.
\n\u201cHe didn\u2019t know.\u201d
\nI laughed bitterly.
\n\u201cSo he vanished?\u201d
\n\u201cHe discovered that money was being stolen through several of his companies. Millions. Maybe more.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd he thought disappearing would help?\u201d
\n\u201cHe believed the theft was connected to people close to him.\u201d
\n\u201cHow close?\u201d
\nMartin hesitated.
\n\u201cFamily.\u201d
\nMy stomach dropped.
\n\u201cWho?\u201d
\n\u201cHe never told me.\u201d
\nI stared out the window.
\nMy father\u2019s funeral flashed through my mind.
\nThe closed casket.
\nThe flowers.
\nThe speeches.
\nMe standing beside it believing I had lost the only parent I had left.
\n\u201cHe watched me bury him?\u201d
\nMartin\u2019s voice softened.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nI turned.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cHe never attended the funeral.\u201d
\n\u201cThat isn\u2019t what I meant.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\nAnger burned through me.
\n\u201cHe let me believe he was dead for four years.\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd you knew?\u201d
\n\u201cFor most of that time.\u201d
\nMy hand shook.
\nI wanted to scream.
\nInstead I asked the only question that mattered.
\n\u201cWhere is he?\u201d
\nMartin looked toward the driver.
\nThen back at me.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s complicated.\u201d
\n\u201cTry me.\u201d
\n\u201cHe disappeared again six months ago.\u201d
\nMy chest tightened.
\n\u201cAgain?\u201d
\n\u201cHe stopped contacting everyone.\u201d
\n\u201cIncluding you?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cWe don\u2019t know.\u201d
\nThen I remembered the photograph.
\nJulian standing beside him.
\n\u201cWhen was this taken?\u201d
\nMartin looked at the date.
\n\u201cThree years ago.\u201d
\n\u201cSo Julian knew my father was alive.\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cHow long?\u201d
\n\u201cLonger than you knew Julian.\u201d
\nEverything inside me went still.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\nMartin swallowed.
\n\u201cJulian met your father before he ever met you.\u201d
\nI stared at him.
\nThe SUV suddenly felt too small.
\n\u201cSay that again.\u201d
\n\u201cYour relationship with Julian was not an accident.\u201d
\nA chill traveled down my arms.
\n\u201cHe targeted me.\u201d
\nMartin said nothing.
\nI understood.
\n\u201cHe targeted me.\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nI looked down at my wedding ring.
\nThe dates.
\nThe proposal.
\nThe chance meeting at a charity dinner.
\nAll of it suddenly looked different.
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cYour father had evidence.\u201d
\n\u201cOf what?\u201d
\nMartin\u2019s voice dropped.
\n\u201cA network of companies laundering stolen investment money.\u201d
\n\u201cHarrington Cole Holdings?\u201d
\n\u201cThat was only one piece.\u201d
\nI leaned forward.
\n\u201cWho runs the network?\u201d
\nMartin hesitated.
\nThen he said a name I had not heard in years.
\n\u201cEvelyn Mercer.\u201d
\nI frowned.
\n\u201cMy godmother?\u201d
\nMartin nodded.
\nMy father\u2019s oldest friend.
\nThe woman who had held my hand at his funeral.
\nThe woman who had helped me choose my wedding dress.
\nThe woman who had hugged Julian after our ceremony and called him family.
\nMy stomach turned.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cShe was involved in several companies your father investigated.\u201d
\n\u201cInvolved how?\u201d
\n\u201cWe believe she was coordinating the transfers.\u201d
\nI thought of every dinner.
\nEvery birthday.
\nEvery Christmas.
\nEvelyn sitting beside my father.
\nLaughing.
\nDrinking wine.
\nCalling me sweetheart.
\n\u201cDoes Julian work for her?\u201d
\n\u201cWe think so.\u201d
\nBefore I could respond, my phone vibrated.
\nA message.
\nUnknown number.
\nI opened it.
\nA photograph loaded.
\nMy apartment bedroom.
\nThe broken door.
\nMy open safe.
\nThe message beneath it contained four words.
\nYOU TOOK THE WRONG PHOTO.
\nMy blood went cold.
\nAnother message arrived.
\nTHIS ONE IS BETTER.
\nA second image appeared.
\nI stopped breathing.
\nIt showed my father.
\nCurrent.
\nOlder.
\nGray hair.
\nBruised face.
\nSitting in a chair.
\nToday\u2019s newspaper rested on his lap.
\nI looked at Martin.
\n\u201cHe\u2019s alive.\u201d
\nMartin grabbed the phone.
\nHis face drained.
\n\u201cOh God.\u201d
\nThen another message appeared.
\nBRING THE BLACK FOLDER.
\nCOME ALONE.
\nMIDNIGHT.
\nOR THIS TIME, YOUR FATHER REALLY DIES.
\nI looked at the dashboard clock.
\n10:43 p.m.
\nSeventy-seven minutes.
\nMartin whispered,
\n\u201cIt\u2019s a trap.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\n\u201cYou can\u2019t go.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\nVictor\u2019s voice came through the speaker.
\n\u201cClara, listen to me. Julian wants the folder more than he wants you.\u201d
\nI stared at the city lights passing outside.
\nThen I slowly removed my wedding ring.
\nFor the first time since the ceremony, my hand felt light.
\n\u201cGood,\u201d I said.
\nMartin frowned.
\n\u201cGood?\u201d
\nI looked at both men.
\n\u201cIf Julian wants the folder that badly, then we finally have something he\u2019s afraid to lose.\u201d
\nI opened the black folder again.
\nTucked beneath the financial documents was one final sealed page I hadn\u2019t noticed before.
\nAcross the front, in my father\u2019s handwriting, were three words.
\nFOR CLARA ONLY.
\nI tore it open.
\nThe first line made my entire body go cold.
\nClara, if you are reading this, Julian has already betrayed you.
\nBut the second line was worse.
\nBecause it revealed why my father had allowed Julian into my life in the first place.
\nAnd why our marriage had never been only Julian\u2019s plan.<\/p>\n
I stared at the second line until the words blurred.
\nJulian was not the first person to plan this marriage.
\nMy father was.
\nFor several seconds, I couldn\u2019t breathe.
\nMartin noticed my face.
\n\u201cWhat does it say?\u201d
\nI didn\u2019t answer.
\nI kept reading.
\nClara, if you are reading this, Julian has already betrayed you.
\nBut understand this before you hate me.
\nI knew who he was before he ever approached you.
\nMy hands began to tremble.
\nMartin leaned closer.
\n\u201cClara?\u201d
\nI read the next line aloud.
\n\u201cI allowed him into my life because I needed him close.\u201d
\nMartin\u2019s face changed.
\nHe knew.
\nNot everything.
\nBut enough.
\n\u201cYou knew about this letter?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cDon\u2019t lie to me again.\u201d
\n\u201cI swear.\u201d
\nI looked down.
\nMy father\u2019s handwriting continued.
\nFor years, I believed Evelyn Mercer was stealing from me.
\nI was wrong.
\nEvelyn was only the visible hand.
\nSomeone else was controlling her.
\nSomeone inside our family.
\nMy stomach tightened.
\nInside our family.
\nI read faster.
\nI needed proof.
\nJulian was ambitious, dishonest, and desperate for money.
\nThat made him dangerous.
\nIt also made him useful.
\nI gave him just enough information to make him believe marrying you would give him access to the company.
\nI expected him to take the bait.
\nHe did.
\nI stopped.
\nAnger flooded through me so violently I could barely see straight.
\n\u201cHe used me.\u201d
\nMartin said nothing.
\n\u201cMy father used me as bait.\u201d
\n\u201cClara\u2014\u201d
\n\u201cHe put Julian in front of me knowing exactly what he was.\u201d
\nMartin looked away.
\nThat hurt more than an answer.
\nI kept reading.
\nI never expected you to love him.
\nThat was my greatest mistake.
\nI laughed once.
\nCold.
\nBroken.
\n\u201cThat was his mistake?\u201d
\nMartin looked at me.
\n\u201cHe thought Julian would expose himself before it went that far.\u201d
\n\u201cHe let me marry him.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\n\u201cHe let me stand at an altar with a man he knew was using me.\u201d
\nMartin\u2019s voice cracked.
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nFor the first time, I saw shame on his face.
\nReal shame.
\nBut I wasn\u2019t finished.
\nThe letter continued.
\nIf Julian married you, it meant the people behind him believed you were the final obstacle.
\nThat would force them into the open.
\nAnd when they moved, Victor Dane was supposed to stop them.
\nMy eyes lifted.
\n\u201cVictor.\u201d
\nHis voice came through the phone.
\n\u201cI\u2019m here.\u201d
\n\u201cYou worked for my father.\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cHow long?\u201d
\n\u201cEleven years.\u201d
\nI gripped the phone harder.
\n\u201cSo all of this was planned?\u201d
\n\u201cNot all of it.\u201d
\n\u201cConvenient answer.\u201d
\n\u201cClara, your father planned a trap.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd put me in the middle.\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nHis honesty silenced me.
\nThen he added,
\n\u201cHe regretted it.\u201d
\n\u201cDid that bring him back to life for me?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cDid it give me back four years?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cThen don\u2019t tell me what he regretted.\u201d
\nThe SUV fell silent.
\nI returned to the letter.
\nVictor knows where the real evidence is stored.
\nBut he does not know who betrayed me.
\nOnly you can identify that person.
\nI frowned.
\n\u201cWhy me?\u201d
\nMartin leaned toward the page.
\nThen I saw the final paragraph.
\nBecause the person who betrayed me has been beside you your entire life.
\nSomeone you trust completely.
\nSomeone who was present the night your mother died.
\nMy heart stopped.
\nMy mother.
\nShe had died when I was nine.
\nA car accident.
\nThat was what I had always been told.
\nI looked at Martin.
\n\u201cWhat does my mother have to do with this?\u201d
\nHis face went pale.
\nThat was all I needed.
\n\u201cYou know.\u201d
\n\u201cClara\u2014\u201d
\n\u201cYou know.\u201d
\nHe closed his eyes.
\n\u201cYour mother\u2019s death may not have been an accident.\u201d
\nThe words hit harder than anything else that night.
\nI could hear my own breathing.
\nNothing more.
\nThen I whispered,
\n\u201cWho was there?\u201d
\nMartin said nothing.
\n\u201cWho was there when she died?\u201d
\nHe looked at me.
\n\u201cYour godmother.\u201d
\nEvelyn Mercer.
\nMy stomach turned.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nMartin continued carefully.
\n\u201cEvelyn was driving behind your mother that night.\u201d
\n\u201cShe told me she arrived after the crash.\u201d
\n\u201cThat was the official story.\u201d
\n\u201cOfficial?\u201d
\n\u201cThere were inconsistencies.\u201d
\n\u201cLike what?\u201d
\n\u201cA witness claimed another car forced your mother off the road.\u201d
\nMy voice dropped.
\n\u201cWhat car?\u201d
\nMartin hesitated.
\n\u201cA black Mercedes.\u201d
\nMy blood ran cold.
\nEvelyn drove a black Mercedes.
\nShe had for years.
\nI looked out the window.
\nEvery childhood memory involving her suddenly felt contaminated.
\nBirthday cakes.
\nSchool plays.
\nChristmas mornings.
\nHer hand on my shoulder at my mother\u2019s funeral.
\nThen at my father\u2019s funeral.
\nThen at my wedding.
\nShe had been present for every loss.
\nEvery transition.
\nEvery vulnerable moment.
\nMy phone vibrated again.
\nUNKNOWN NUMBER.
\nThe message contained an address.
\nAn abandoned warehouse in Brooklyn.
\n11:55 PM.
\nBRING THE FOLDER.
\nNO POLICE.
\nI looked at the clock.
\n11:08.
\nMartin immediately shook his head.
\n\u201cYou cannot go.\u201d
\n\u201cI have forty-seven minutes.\u201d
\n\u201cIt\u2019s suicide.\u201d
\n\u201cThen give me another option.\u201d
\n\u201cWe call federal investigators.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd by the time they organize something, my father could be dead.\u201d
\nVictor spoke through the phone.
\n\u201cThere is another option.\u201d
\nI waited.
\n\u201cYou go.\u201d
\nMartin snapped,
\n\u201cAbsolutely not.\u201d
\nVictor continued.
\n\u201cBut not alone.\u201d
\n\u201cNo police?\u201d
\n\u201cNo visible police.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d
\n\u201cIt means we make Julian believe you followed instructions.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd then?\u201d
\n\u201cWe force whoever is behind him to reveal themselves.\u201d
\nI understood immediately.
\n\u201cYou think Evelyn will be there.\u201d
\n\u201cI think someone higher than Evelyn will.\u201d
\nMartin stared at the phone.
\n\u201cVictor, you don\u2019t know that.\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nVictor paused.
\n\u201cBut Thomas did.\u201d
\nMy father.
\nAlive.
\nSomewhere.
\nMaybe injured.
\nMaybe terrified.
\nMaybe still manipulating everything.
\nI hated him.
\nI loved him.
\nI wanted to slap him.
\nI wanted to hug him.
\nNone of it mattered if I didn\u2019t reach him.
\n\u201cTell me what to do.\u201d
\nMartin said my name sharply.
\nI ignored him.
\nVictor answered.
\n\u201cFirst, copy everything in the folder.\u201d
\n\u201cAlready done.\u201d
\nThere was silence.
\nThen Victor almost laughed.
\n\u201cYour father always said you were smarter than everyone assumed.\u201d
\n\u201cThat compliment is about four years too late.\u201d
\n\u201cFair.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat else?\u201d
\n\u201cKeep the original folder.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause Julian knows the paper.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause there\u2019s one document hidden inside it that he cannot allow anyone to see.\u201d
\nI flipped through the pages.
\n\u201cWhat document?\u201d
\n\u201cRemove the cardboard backing.\u201d
\nI tore at the inner lining.
\nA thin sheet slid out.
\nNot financial records.
\nNot company documents.
\nA birth certificate.
\nI stared at the name.
\nThen stared again.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nMartin leaned closer.
\nHis face drained completely.
\nThe child listed on the certificate had been born thirty-six years ago.
\nMother:
\nEvelyn Mercer.
\nFather:
\nThomas Bennett.
\nMy father.
\nI looked at Martin.
\n\u201cMy father and Evelyn had a child?\u201d
\nHe said nothing.
\nI looked lower.
\nChild\u2019s name:
\nJulian Mercer Bennett.
\nThe entire SUV seemed to tilt.
\nI couldn\u2019t breathe.
\nJulian.
\nMy husband.
\nI whispered,
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nMartin closed his eyes.
\nI looked at the certificate again.
\nThe date.
\nThe signatures.
\nThe hospital seal.
\nThen I understood why Julian\u2019s last name was different.
\nWhy my father knew him before I did.
\nWhy Julian had access to family information.
\nWhy Evelyn had always treated him with strange familiarity.
\nMy voice barely worked.
\n\u201cJulian is my father\u2019s son.\u201d
\nMartin nodded.
\nI felt sick.
\n\u201cHe\u2019s my brother?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nMartin answered quickly.
\n\u201cNo. Look at the amended record.\u201d
\nI flipped the page.
\nA second document was attached.
\nPaternity correction.
\nThomas Bennett was not Julian\u2019s biological father.
\nHis name had been placed there deliberately.
\nThe actual father had been sealed by court order.
\nI looked at Martin.
\n\u201cWhat is this?\u201d
\n\u201cA cover identity.\u201d
\n\u201cFor who?\u201d
\nVictor answered from the phone.
\n\u201cFor the real heir.\u201d
\nI froze.
\n\u201cWhat real heir?\u201d
\n\u201cThe person your father was trying to protect.\u201d
\nBefore I could ask another question, the SUV suddenly swerved.
\nMartin grabbed the seat.
\nA black sedan had pulled alongside us.
\nIts rear window lowered.
\nI saw the flash of a phone camera.
\nThen the sedan accelerated ahead.
\nMy phone vibrated.
\nA photograph appeared.
\nIt had been taken seconds earlier.
\nMe sitting inside the SUV.
\nMartin beside me.
\nThe message beneath it read:
\nYOU WERE TOLD TO COME ALONE.
\nThen another message arrived.
\nCHANGE OF LOCATION.
\nAnd beneath it:
\nBRING MARTIN TOO.
\nHE OWES US.
\nI slowly turned toward him.
\nMartin\u2019s face had gone completely white.
\nI asked,
\n\u201cWhat do you owe them?\u201d
\nHe stared ahead.
\nThen said the words I least expected.
\n\u201cYour father wasn\u2019t the only person who helped fake his death.\u201d
\nI waited.
\nMartin swallowed.
\n\u201cI signed the death certificate.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cClara, your father is still alive.\u201d For one second, everything around me disappeared. The pounding on the bedroom door. The footsteps outside. Victor\u2019s voice in my ear. Even my own … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":7022,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-7078","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-news"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7078","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=7078"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7078\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7085,"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7078\/revisions\/7085"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/7022"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=7078"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=7078"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dmnews168.store\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=7078"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}