Chapter 3: The Man My Wife Trusted With Everything
For a moment, I couldn't hear the rain.
I couldn't hear the clock.
I couldn't even hear Ethan asking me who the man was.
All I could see was Daniel's face.
My wife's younger brother.
The man who had carried her coffin at her funeral.
The man who had stood beside me when the doctor told us there was nothing more they could do.
The man who had held my shoulder and whispered, "Richard, you aren't alone. I'll help you look after the children.""
And now he was standing in my bedroom, asking my daughter-in-law whether she had obtained my property deed.
"That's Daniel," I finally said.
Ethan looked at me.
"Uncle Daniel?""
I nodded.
Sophia took a step backward.
"Richard, please don't jump to conclusions.""
I turned toward her.
"What conclusions?""
"You don't know what that conversation was about.""
"Then explain it.""
She looked at Ethan.
"Your uncle was helping me.""
"Helping you do what?"" Ethan demanded.
"Understand the family finances.""
Emma let out a sharp breath.
"By asking whether you got Dad's property deed?""
Sophia's face hardened.
"You're all twisting everything.""
I closed the laptop.
"Call Daniel.""
She shook her head.
"No.""
"Call him.""
"He's not part of this.""
"He was in my bedroom.""
"He was helping me with paperwork!""
"Then he won't mind explaining it.""
Ethan pulled out his phone.
"Give me his number.""
Sophia grabbed his wrist.
"Don't call him!""
Ethan stared at her hand.
"Let go.""
She released him.
His fingers trembled as he searched his contacts.
I watched him press Daniel's name.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then Daniel answered.
"Ethan! My boy. What's going on?""
Ethan looked at me.
"Uncle Daniel, where are you?""
"At home. Why?""
"Have you been at Dad's house recently?""
A pause.
"Of course. What's wrong?""
Ethan swallowed.
"Did you meet Sophia here on May eighth?""
Another pause.
Then Daniel laughed.
"Probably. Why are you asking?""
"Did you go into Dad's bedroom?""
Silence.
I could hear the television humming in the background.
Finally, Daniel spoke.
"Listen, Ethan. Your father has been under a lot of stress lately. You know how he gets.""
My hands tightened around the arms of my chair.
Even now.
Even after everything.
Daniel was using the same words Sophia had used.
Confused.
Forgetful.
Under stress.
Ethan's voice became colder.
"Did you go into his bedroom?""
Daniel sighed.
"Yes, I did. Sophia asked me to look at some documents.""
"What documents?""
"Property paperwork. Nothing important.""
"Why?""
"Because your father is getting older. Someone needs to make sure things are organized.""
I looked at Ethan.
My son looked back at me.
Then he asked the question that changed everything.
"Did you ask Sophia whether she had gotten Dad's deed?""
The line went silent.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Daniel said something I never expected to hear.
"Who told you that?""
Ethan closed his eyes.
"That's all I needed to know.""
He ended the call.
Sophia began shaking her head.
"He's your uncle. You can't treat him like this.""
Ethan stared at her.
"You were meeting him behind my back.""
"Because you never listen!""
"Listen to what?""
"That your father needs help!""
"Then why were you stealing from him?""
She threw her handbag onto the sofa.
"I wasn't stealing!""
"Then explain the money!""
"Daniel was handling it!""
The room went still.
I leaned forward.
"What did you say?""
Sophia looked at me.
Her expression changed as she realized what had come out of her mouth.
"I meant—"
"You said Daniel was handling it.""
"I didn't mean it like that.""
"Then what did you mean?""
She looked toward Ethan.
He stood motionless.
"How much did you give him?"" he asked.
Sophia's eyes filled with tears again.
This time, I couldn't tell whether they were real.
"Ethan, please.""
"How much?""
She shook her head.
"I was trying to help us.""
"How much money?""
"I don't know.""
"Eight thousand dollars?""
She didn't answer.
I stood up.
"Then perhaps I should tell you something.""
All three of them turned toward me.
I walked to the desk and opened a small locked drawer.
Inside was a blue folder.
I removed it and placed it on the coffee table.
Sophia stared at it.
"What is that?""
"Something I should have shown you months ago.""
I opened the folder.
Inside were several bank statements, copies of property records, and a letter from my solicitor.
Ethan leaned forward.
"Dad?""
I tapped the first document.
"Three months ago, I noticed that money was disappearing. But I also noticed something else.""
"What?"" Emma asked.
"Someone had tried to access my bank account.""
Ethan frowned.
"How?""
"An online password reset. Then a request to change the contact number associated with the account.""
"Did you approve it?""
"No.""
I turned another page.
"The bank blocked the request because the security questions weren't answered correctly.""
Sophia stared at the papers.
I continued.
"Two weeks later, someone contacted my solicitor pretending to be me.""
Ethan's mouth fell open.
"What?""
"They asked for information about transferring ownership of this house.""
Emma shook her head.
"Who?""
"My solicitor refused to release anything without seeing me in person.""
Sophia suddenly stood.
"This is getting out of control.""
I looked at her.
"No, Sophia. It's getting clear.""
I placed the final document on the table.
It was a printed email from my solicitor.
The subject line read:
*URGENT: REQUEST FOR PROPERTY TRANSFER INFORMATION*
Below it was a name.
Daniel Whitmore.
And beneath that, a second name.
Sophia Whitmore.
Ethan read them twice.
His lips moved silently.
Then he looked at his wife.
"You contacted Dad's solicitor?""
Sophia's breathing became uneven.
"I was trying to understand what would happen if something happened to him.""
"Why?""
"Because someone has to think about the future!""
"He has a will," Emma said.
"He has everything organized.""
Sophia looked at her.
"And who does he leave everything to?""
Nobody answered.
I closed the folder.
"That is a private matter between me and my solicitor.""
Sophia laughed bitterly.
"Of course it is. You never trusted us.""
I looked at her for a long moment.
"Trust is not something people are entitled to simply because they marry into a family.""
She turned away.
Ethan walked toward the window.
Outside, headlights passed through the rain.
He looked exhausted.
"How long has Uncle Daniel been involved?""
"I don't know," I said honestly.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
I almost laughed.
Instead, I pointed to my swollen cheek.
"Would you have listened?""
He turned around.
His eyes were wet.
"Dad, I—"
"Not tonight, Ethan.""
He nodded slowly.
Emma came to my side.
"Should we call the police?""
Before I could answer, my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
I answered.
"Hello?""
A man's voice came through.
"Richard, it's Daniel.""
I glanced at Ethan.
"Yes?""
"We need to talk.""
"About what?""
"About the mess you've created.""
I tightened my grip on the phone.
"I didn't create anything.""
Daniel exhaled sharply.
"Listen carefully. Sophia is frightened. Ethan is confused. And you're making this much worse than it needs to be.""
"Then explain the money.""
A pause.
"You're an old man, Richard. You should be careful about making accusations you can't prove.""
I looked at the camera above the bookshelf.
"I have recordings.""
Another pause.
Then Daniel's voice dropped.
"Not everything is on those recordings.""
My stomach tightened.
"What does that mean?""
"It means you should stop digging.""
"Why?""
"Because there are things about your wife's final months that you don't know.""
My hand went cold.
"What are you talking about?""
Daniel lowered his voice.
"Your wife didn't leave everything the way you think she did.""
I stood completely still.
He continued.
"Ask your solicitor about the document she signed three weeks before she died.""
Then the call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Emma touched my arm.
"Dad? What's wrong?""
I couldn't answer.
For twelve years, I had believed my wife had left our family with nothing but memories, a few pieces of jewelry, and the life insurance money we had used to pay her medical bills.
But Daniel had just mentioned a document.
A document signed three weeks before she died.
And suddenly, the theft of eight thousand dollars no longer seemed like the biggest secret hidden inside my house.
I turned toward the blue folder.
My wife's name was written on a sealed envelope tucked beneath the property records.
I had never opened it.
May you like
On the front, in her unmistakable handwriting, were six words:
*Richard, only read this if Daniel returns.*
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