Chapter 12: The Third Son
I gripped the phone.
"What do you mean?""
The man on the other end sounded exhausted.
"Richard has been feeding you lies. The boy in the recording isn't Thomas Whitmore.""
"Then who is he?""
"My name is Thomas Whitmore.""
I looked at Eleanor.
Her face had gone pale.
"How old are you?"" I asked.
"Thirty-one.""
I felt my stomach drop.
"You're younger than Eleanor.""
"Yes.""
"Then why did the hospital record say you were born before me?""
"Because that record was changed.""
I looked toward the documents on the table.
"Who changed it?""
"My mother.""
"Why?""
"Because she was trying to protect me.""
I closed my eyes.
"Where are you?""
"Somewhere Richard can't reach me.""
"Then why are you contacting us?""
"Because I need you to understand something before you trust Eleanor.""
I looked at my sister.
She shook her head.
"Thomas, she's my sister.""
The man laughed softly.
"That's what she told you?""
Eleanor grabbed the phone.
"Thomas, it's Eleanor. It's me.""
Silence.
Then the voice became emotional.
"Ellie?""
She began crying.
"Yes.""
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then he whispered, "I thought you were dead.""
Eleanor covered her mouth.
"Why would you think that?""
"Because Richard told me you died in a car accident when you were eighteen.""
My stomach turned.
Richard had lied to both of them.
He had spent years keeping the children separated.
But why?
I took the phone again.
"Thomas, we need to meet.""
"Not yet.""
"Why?""
"Because I need to tell you what happened to our father.""
I glanced at my mother.
She was gripping the edge of the table.
"Go ahead.""
Thomas took a shaky breath.
"Our father didn't die because Richard changed his medication.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Then what happened?""
"Richard had nothing to do with the first attempt.""
"The first attempt?""
"Someone tried to kill him before the accident.""
I looked at Eleanor.
She had stopped crying.
Thomas continued.
"Three days before November 14, our father received a package. Inside was a photograph of a little boy.""
I looked down at the hospital transfer record.
"Was it you?""
"Yes.""
"What was the message?""
"That if he didn't give up the trust, the child would disappear.""
I felt sick.
"Who sent it?""
"I don't know.""
"But Richard was involved.""
"Eventually.""
"What does that mean?""
Thomas went silent.
Then he said something that changed the entire direction of the investigation.
"Richard didn't arrange the accident. He arranged the cover-up.""
I sat down slowly.
"Who arranged the accident?""
Thomas whispered:
"Your mother.""
My mother let out a cry.
I immediately stood.
"That's impossible.""
"That's what I was told.""
"By whom?""
"Richard.""
I felt anger rise.
"Richard told you that?""
"Yes. He said Evelyn wanted our father dead because she was afraid he would leave her and divide the company between his children.""
I looked at my mother.
She was shaking her head.
"No. Marcus, that's not true.""
Thomas continued.
"But I found something in the old medical records that made me question him.""
"What?""
"Your mother didn't arrange the accident.""
"Then why say it?""
"Because Richard wanted you to turn against her.""
I exhaled slowly.
"Why?""
"Because she knows where the original trust documents are.""
I looked at the cookbook.
The blue folder.
The hospital photograph.
Everything we had found.
"Where are the original documents?""
Thomas answered immediately.
"Inside the old Carter warehouse.""
I frowned.
"Richard said they were in the cookbook.""
"He was wrong. Your father hid copies in the cookbook. The originals are somewhere else.""
"Where?""
"Behind the east wall.""
I glanced at Eleanor.
She nodded.
"The old warehouse?""
"Yes. But Marcus, listen carefully. There's something else you need to know.""
"What?""
"Your father left a recording for the three of us. He said it could only be played when all his children were together.""
My throat tightened.
"All three?""
"Yes.""
"Where is it?""
"At the warehouse.""
I looked at my mother.
She had gone completely still.
Then Thomas added:
"There's a reason he wanted all three of us together.""
"What reason?""
"Because one of us isn't actually his child.""
The room went silent.
I looked at Eleanor.
Then at my mother.
Nobody moved.
"What did you say?"" I asked.
Thomas repeated it.
"One of us isn't Thomas Carter's biological child.""
My mother began crying.
I felt as though the room had disappeared around me.
"Which one?""
Thomas took a long breath.
"I don't know. That's why we need the original documents.""
The call disconnected.
We arrived at the Carter warehouse shortly before noon.
The building stood at the edge of an industrial district outside Columbus. Its windows were boarded up, and the faded company logo still hung above the entrance.
My father had built his first furniture pieces here.
He had brought me here when I was seven years old and taught me how to sand a wooden chair.
I remembered the smell of fresh pine.
The sound of his hammer.
The way he used to lift me onto his shoulders when I got tired.
Now the place looked abandoned.
Richard's black SUV was parked outside.
Vanessa stood beside it.
Her eyes were red.
When she saw us, she approached.
"Marcus, please don't go inside.""
I stopped.
"Where is Richard?""
"Inside.""
"Where is Thomas?""
She shook her head.
"I don't know.""
"Then why are you here?""
She looked toward the warehouse.
"Because Richard told me my brother was waiting.""
I stared at her.
"Do you believe him?""
She shook her head.
"Not anymore.""
I studied her face.
For the first time, she looked genuinely ashamed.
"Why did you throw the cookbook away?""
Her eyes filled.
"Richard told me the documents inside could destroy my family.""
"Your family?""
"He said your father had left evidence proving my father stole money from the company. He told me that if the papers became public, everything my father built would be taken away.""
"So you tried to destroy the evidence.""
She nodded.
"I thought I was protecting him.""
"Your father was already dead.""
She lowered her head.
"I know.""
I wanted to hate her.
Part of me still did.
But there was something different in her expression now.
She looked like someone who had finally realized that the man she trusted had been using her.
"Did you know Richard had a hospital badge?""
She shook her head.
"No.""
"Did you know he was involved in my father's death?""
She began crying.
"No. I swear.""
I stepped past her.
Then she grabbed my arm.
"Marcus.""
I stopped.
She pulled a small flash drive from her pocket.
"Take this.""
"What is it?""
"Richard's private computer backup. I copied it last night.""
I stared at her.
"Why?""
"Because I finally understood something.""
She wiped her cheeks.
"Richard never planned to marry me into your family. He planned to use me to get access to your father's trust.""
I took the drive.
"What's on it?""
"Emails. Financial records. And one video.""
"What video?""
She looked toward the warehouse.
"Your father.""
My heart stopped.
"Alive?""
She nodded.
"Recorded three days before the accident.""
I looked at the flash drive.
Then at the warehouse.
A loud crash came from inside.
We rushed toward the entrance.
The main door was slightly open.
I pushed it.
Dust floated through the sunlight.
At the far end of the building stood Richard.
Beside him was a man in a dark jacket.
He was about thirty-one, with dark hair and my father's eyes.
I knew immediately.
Thomas.
My brother.
But he wasn't looking at me.
He was staring at the wooden wall behind Richard.
Richard held a pistol.
"Nobody moves.""
My mother screamed.
Eleanor stepped forward.
"Richard, let him go!""
Richard laughed.
"After everything I've done for this family, you still think you have a choice?""
Thomas looked at me.
"Marcus, don't listen to him.""
Richard pressed the gun against Thomas's chest.
"Tell him.""
Thomas shook his head.
"Tell him what?"" I demanded.
Richard smiled.
"Tell your brother who your real father is.""
I felt the world tilt.
Thomas looked at me.
Then at our mother.
And finally, he spoke.
"Marcus, the man who raised you wasn't your biological father.""
My mother covered her face.
I stared at her.
"Mom?""
She began sobbing.
Thomas continued.
"Your father knew. He knew before you were born.""
Richard smiled.
"And that's why he wanted the original documents destroyed.""
I stepped forward.
"Who was my biological father?""
Richard lifted the gun slightly.
Then he answered.
"Daniel Whitmore.""
Vanessa screamed.
My entire life seemed to collapse into a single moment.
My father.
The man who had taught me to ride a bicycle.
The man who had held my hand at school.
The man whose photograph I had carried in my wallet for twelve years.
He had known I wasn't his biological son.
And he had loved me anyway.
I turned toward my mother.
"Is it true?""
She couldn't answer.
Then Richard laughed.
"Ask her what happened on the night you were born.""
He pointed toward the east wall.
"Because the original documents aren't just about money, Marcus.""
He stepped aside.
Behind him was a small metal door hidden inside the wooden wall.
"Your father left something behind that proves who arranged the adoption.""
Thomas looked at me.
His voice trembled.
"And when you open that door, you'll discover why Daniel Whitmore spent the last twelve years pretending to be dead.""
The metal door clicked.
Someone on the other side turned the handle.
May you like
And a voice I recognized from the telephone whispered:
"Hello, son.""
