Chapter 9: The Last Night My Father Was Alive
I didn't go to the Hale house that night.
Not because I wasn't desperate for answers, but because I had finally learned the difference between courage and walking blindly into someone else's trap.
I called Rebecca Sloan.
She listened to Marcus's confession without interrupting.
"Don't meet him alone," she said.
"And don't assume the house is where your father died simply because Marcus says so. We need corroboration.""
"What about Rebecca Hale?""
"We've reported her disappearance to the police. The investigator is checking the building's security footage. If she was abducted or harmed, we need to know immediately.""
I gripped the silver key.
"She said the key was connected to room 1806.""
"Then we'll investigate that connection through the hotel. Don't try to force access yourself.""
I hated waiting.
For eleven years, my family had been trapped inside a story written by people who knew how to make lies sound official. Every time we found a clue, another door closed.
But my lawyer was right.
If I rushed into the Hale house, I could lose the evidence, or worse.
I asked Marcus to meet me the next morning at Rebecca Sloan's office.
He agreed.
Then he sent a message.
Please bring the photograph of my sister. There is something on the back you haven't seen.
I didn't reply.
Instead, I sat beside my mother at the kitchen table and told her everything.
When I mentioned Marcus's claim about the house, she began shaking.
"No.""
"Mom—"
"No, Nia. Your father died at the hospital. I saw him there.""
"You saw his body.""
She stared at me.
The distinction hurt both of us.
"I saw him in a hospital bed," she said.
"Richard told me the doctors had tried everything.""
"Did you see a doctor?""
"I spoke to a nurse.""
"Did the nurse tell you when he died?""
Mom pressed her hands against her mouth.
"No. Richard did.""
I reached across the table.
"I'm not saying Dad didn't die at the hospital. I'm saying Richard may have lied about what happened before he got there.""
She stared at the silver key.
"Why would Marcus tell you this now?""
"Maybe he's frightened.""
"Or maybe he's trying to make you doubt everyone except him.""
I nodded.
"That's why I'm not meeting him alone.""
Mom looked toward the window.
"I want to come with you.""
"You can.""
She reached for my hand.
"Whatever happened to your father, I need to know. I spent eleven years believing he died because he had worked too hard. Then I believed he had been framed for stealing money. Now I don't know what to believe.""
I squeezed her fingers.
"We'll find out.""
Marcus arrived at Rebecca Sloan's office at nine the next morning.
He looked as though he hadn't slept. His tuxedo was gone, replaced by a wrinkled shirt and a dark coat. He carried a brown envelope.
When he saw me, he stopped in the doorway.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he looked at my mother.
"Evelyn.""
She didn't answer.
Marcus swallowed.
"Nia, can we talk privately?""
"No.""
He nodded as if he'd expected that.
Rebecca Sloan motioned toward a chair.
"Sit down, Mr. Hale. Before we begin, I need to make something clear.
This meeting is not confidential in the way a conversation between attorney and client would be. You are free to leave at any time, and you should not provide information you don't wish to disclose. Do you understand?""
Marcus nodded.
"Yes.""
"Good. Now tell us why you claimed Nia's father died at your family's house.""
He placed the envelope on the table.
"Because he was taken there before the ambulance arrived.""
My mother made a small sound.
Marcus opened the envelope and removed a photograph.
It showed the interior of a large living room with dark wooden floors and a marble fireplace.
A man lay on the floor beside a sofa.
My father.
I couldn't breathe.
The photograph had been taken from a doorway. Dad's eyes were closed, his shirt collar open, one arm stretched toward a fallen telephone.
Marcus placed another photograph beside it.
This one showed Patricia standing over my father.
In her hand was a folded piece of paper.
I stared at her face.
She wasn't panicking.
She wasn't crying.
She looked angry.
"Where did you get these?"" Rebecca Sloan asked.
"From my father's safe.""
"How did you access it?""
"My sister gave me the combination.""
My head snapped up.
"Rebecca is alive?""
Marcus nodded.
"Yes.""
"Where is she?""
"I don't know. We spoke two nights ago. She said she was going to give you the ledger. She told me not to contact her again.""
"Then why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I was afraid.""
I stared at him.
"Afraid of what?""
"My father.""
He rubbed his hands together.
"When I was fifteen, my father told me your dad had stolen money from the Bellwether project. He said your father was dangerous and that he'd threatened our family. He told me to deliver a message to him.""
"The message that brought him to the wrong address.""
Marcus looked down.
"Yes.""
My mother stood abruptly.
"You knew?""
"I knew I was delivering a message. I didn't know what would happen after that.""
"Did you tell him Nia was in danger?"" I asked.
Marcus closed his eyes.
"My father told me to say that. He said your father would only come if he believed something had happened to you.""
I felt sick.
"You used me to lure my father somewhere.""
"I was a child.""
"You were old enough to understand that you were frightening him.""
"I know.""
"Did you know he was being threatened?""
"Yes.""
"Did you know he was in danger?""
Marcus looked at me.
"I didn't understand how far my father would go.""
I wanted to believe him.
But I remembered the forged documents. Vanessa's scissors. His instinctive defense of Patricia. The way he had looked at the photograph of the hotel room before trying to take my phone.
"Why didn't you tell the police after your father died?""
Marcus looked toward Rebecca Sloan.
"Because my father told me what would happen if I did.""
"What did he tell you?""
"He said he'd make sure your mother was blamed for the debt. He said he'd destroy her life, and yours, if I spoke. He showed me the loan documents and said everything would be traced back to your father.""
My mother sank back into her chair.
Marcus continued.
"I was terrified. I believed him. For years, I told myself that I hadn't known what was going to happen. I told myself I couldn't have changed anything.""
"Until when?"" I asked.
He reached into the envelope and removed a small digital recorder.
"Until I found this in my father's safe last month.""
He placed it on the table.
Rebecca Sloan examined it without touching the controls.
"Do you know what's on it?""
"A conversation between my parents. It was recorded the night your father died.""
"Have you listened to it?""
"Yes.""
"Does it establish what happened?""
Marcus swallowed.
"It establishes that my mother called the house before the ambulance was summoned. It establishes that my father wanted your dad to sign a statement accepting responsibility for the missing money. And it establishes that they knew he was still alive when they decided to move him.""
My mother covered her mouth.
I looked at Marcus.
"Why did you wait until now?""
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, "Because I was going to marry you.""
I stared at him.
"What?""
"I thought I could fix it. I thought if I married you, I could convince my father to return the money and destroy the documents. I thought I could make things right without exposing my family.""
"You planned to steal my company.""
"That was my father's plan.""
"Your signature is on the agreement.""
He looked down.
"I knew about the agreement. I let it happen.""
The admission was so simple that it left no room for excuses.
I leaned back.
"So you didn't plan to save me. You planned to control how much I discovered.""
Marcus's eyes filled.
"I loved you.""
"Then why did you let Vanessa humiliate my mother?""
His expression changed.
"Vanessa was supposed to distract you.""
The room went silent.
My mother stared at him.
"You knew she was going to cut my hair?""
Marcus's face crumpled.
"I knew she was going to do something to upset you. I didn't know she'd go that far.""
I felt a wave of nausea.
"You knew she was going to hurt my mother.""
"I thought she'd cause an argument. I thought you'd leave the suite, and my father could get you to sign the final documents before the ceremony was canceled.""
I stood.
My chair scraped violently across the floor.
"You used my mother's humiliation as a business strategy.""
Marcus looked up at me.
"I was trying to stop my father from taking everything.""
"By helping him take everything?""
He had no answer.
I wanted to scream, but I didn't.
Instead, I looked at Rebecca Sloan.
"Please continue.""
She turned toward Marcus.
"Did you know about the woman in the hotel photograph?""
He nodded.
"Yes.""
"Was it your sister?""
"Yes.""
"Why were you kissing her?""
Marcus's head snapped up.
"I wasn't kissing Rebecca.""
I felt a cold chill.
"Then who was it?""
He looked at me.
"My mother.""
For several seconds, I couldn't process the words.
Then I remembered the photograph.
The bracelet.
The angle of the woman's face.
The way Patricia's hand rested against the man's chest in the reflection.
"You were kissing your own mother?""
"No. It was a staged photograph. She was standing close to me, and someone took it from an angle that made it look like we were kissing.""
"Why?""
"To make you believe I was having an affair and provoke you into canceling the wedding before the paperwork was finalized.""
I stared at him.
"Who took the photograph?""
"Vanessa.""
My mother closed her eyes.
Marcus continued.
"She sent it to someone who was supposed to forward it to you. I don't know who sent the first message. I only know the photograph was meant to create a scandal.""
I thought of Vanessa's satisfied smile.
The humiliation of my mother.
The severed ponytail on the vanity.
Everything had been planned to make me lose control.
But they hadn't anticipated that I would cancel the wedding and investigate the documents.
"Why did Patricia wear the bracelet?"" I asked.
"She wanted the photograph to look convincing. It was her idea.""
I stared at the recorder.
"And the woman in the photograph?""
"Rebecca. She had been at the hotel earlier that evening. My mother arranged for her to meet me so she could take pictures that could be manipulated later.""
I felt my stomach twist.
"Where is Rebecca now?""
Marcus looked at the floor.
"I don't know.""
Rebecca Sloan interrupted.
"Mr. Hale, we need to establish what happened to Nia's father. We can discuss your family's other actions separately. Please play the recording.""
Marcus pressed the button.
Static filled the room.
Then Patricia's voice emerged.
"He's still breathing.""
Richard answered.
"Then move him.""
"Where?""
"The clinic. We'll say he collapsed there.""
"What if he dies on the way?""
"Then he'll die.""
My mother began sobbing.
I held her hand.
Patricia spoke again.
"Richard, we should call an ambulance.""
"And tell them what? That he came to our house with documents proving we've been moving money through shell companies?""
"We can explain—"
"No. We move him first. The clinic doctor will write the report. By morning, this will be a medical incident, not a criminal investigation.""
There was a long pause.
Then Patricia asked, "What about Evelyn?""
Richard replied, "I'll handle her.""
The recording continued.
Patricia's voice grew quieter.
"And the daughter?""
"Marcus will keep her close. If she ever starts asking questions, we'll make sure she has too much to lose to continue.""
The recording ended.
Nobody spoke.
My mother was shaking so badly that I had to hold her hand with both of mine.
I stared at Marcus.
"Did you know they planned to leave him without help?""
"No.""
"Did you know he was still alive?""
He swallowed.
"Not until I found the recording.""
I wanted to believe that part.
But believing him wouldn't change what he had done.
Rebecca Sloan took the recorder and placed it in a protective evidence bag.
"We will preserve this and arrange for its examination. Mr. Hale, you should understand that the recording may expose you to questions about your involvement in the events surrounding Mr. Bennett's death.""
Marcus nodded.
"I know.""
I looked at him.
"Why give us the recording now?""
He met my eyes.
"Because Rebecca found the original ledger. She said she was going to expose everything, and my father threatened her. I realized that if I stayed silent again, I'd be helping him hurt another person.""
"You already helped him hurt another person.""
His eyes filled.
"I know.""
I stood and walked toward the window.
For four years, I had believed Marcus was my safe place.
Now I understood that he had known the truth about my father while asking me to build a future with him.
He had kissed my forehead at family dinners. He had held my mother's hand at Christmas. He had listened to my business plans and praised my ambition.
And all the while, he had known that his family had built part of its wealth on a lie that destroyed mine.
I turned back.
"Did my father know you were the one who delivered the message?""
Marcus shook his head.
"I don't think so.""
"Did he ever mention you in his notes?""
"Not that I know.""
I studied his face.
"Then there is one more thing I need from you.""
He nodded.
"Anything.""
"Tell me where the original ledger is.""
Marcus went pale.
"Rebecca has it.""
"Where?""
"I don't know the exact location. But I know she left a clue in the envelope she gave me.""
He reached inside his coat and removed a folded piece of paper.
On it was a handwritten address.
My father's old office.
Beneath the address were four words.
*The truth is underneath.*
Rebecca Sloan studied the note.
"That building was demolished years ago.""
Marcus shook his head.
"Not the original building. The company moved out, but the basement archive remained. My father told everyone it had been sealed after a flood.""
I stared at the address.
The ledger might still exist.
It might contain the evidence needed to prove what Richard had done.
But before we could leave, Marcus's phone began ringing.
The caller's name appeared on the screen.
*MOM.*
He declined the call.
A message arrived seconds later.
I know what you've done. If you want Rebecca to live, bring me the ledger before midnight.
Marcus looked at me.
His face had gone completely white.
Then another message appeared.
A photograph of Rebecca tied to a chair in a dark room.
May you like
Beneath it were five words.
*You have one hour left.*
