Chapter 12: The Truth About My Father's Last Night
I took the photograph from Daniel.
My father was lying in the hospital bed, his face pale, his eyes closed.
My mother stood beside him.
Vanessa was near the doorway.
And Daniel was reflected in the glass cabinet.
All four of them had been there.
All four had known something I hadn't.
“Where did you get this?”” I asked.
Daniel looked down.
“Vanessa gave it to me.””
“Why?””
“To remind me what she could do.””
I stared at him.
“Was this taken before Dad died?””
“Yes.””
“Then why did you say the hospital discovered something unusual in his blood?””
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
“Because that's what Vanessa told me.””
I placed the photograph on the desk.
“Did you see the report?””
“No.””
“Did you see the medication?””
Daniel nodded.
“I saw Mom holding the bottle.””
“Did she give it to Dad?””
“I don't know.””
I stepped closer.
“Daniel, I need you to stop protecting people. What happened that night?””
He looked exhausted.
“Dad had been getting weaker. He was taking medication for his heart. Vanessa said Dr. Martin wanted to adjust his treatment.””
“Was Dr. Martin his doctor?””
“No. He was Sarah's doctor.””
I stared at him.
“So why was he involved?””
Daniel swallowed.
“Because Vanessa trusted him.””
I looked toward the window.
The same doctor had been involved in both deaths.
My father's.
And Sarah's.
I felt physically sick.
“Did Dad ever regain consciousness?””
“Yes.””
“When?””
“Just before the ambulance arrived.””
“What did he say?””
Daniel closed his eyes.
“He asked where you were.””
My throat tightened.
“And?””
“I told him you were coming.””
I stared at my brother.
“But I never got a call.””
Daniel began crying.
“Vanessa told me not to call you.””
I stepped back.
“Why?””
“She said Dad wanted to speak privately with me. She said he was going to change the trust documents.””
I felt my hands clench.
“Did he?””
“I don't know.””
“Did he ask you to sign anything?””
Daniel nodded.
“What?””
“A statement confirming that I had been taking money from the company.””
I stared at him.
“And you refused?””
He nodded.
“Then Dad asked for you.””
I turned away.
For a moment, I couldn't look at him.
My father had been dying.
He had wanted to speak to his son.
And my brother had allowed a woman with a hidden agenda to decide whether I should be called.
“Why didn't you tell me at the funeral?””
Daniel covered his face.
“Because Vanessa said if I told you, she'd make sure the police investigated the missing money.””
I looked at him.
“You let me believe Dad died peacefully.””
Daniel nodded.
“I was a coward.””
I didn't disagree.
Robert arrived an hour later.
I showed him the photograph and explained what Daniel had said.
He listened carefully.
Then he looked at my brother.
“Daniel, do you understand the seriousness of what you're telling us?””
“Yes.””
“Are you willing to make a formal statement?””
Daniel nodded.
“Yes.””
“Even if it means admitting your involvement in the financial transfers?””
Daniel swallowed.
“Yes.””
Robert made several notes.
“We'll need to establish the original medical records, the exact timeline, and who had access to your father's treatment. We cannot assume the cause of death from a photograph or a family member's account.””
I nodded.
“Can we get the records?””
Robert took out his phone.
“I'll arrange the appropriate requests.””
Daniel stood.
“There is something else.””
We both looked at him.
He walked to the bookshelf and removed a thick business ledger.
“Dad kept this in his study. Vanessa never found it.””
I took it.
The first few pages contained ordinary company transactions.
Then I reached a section marked with my father's initials.
Several payments had been made to a private medical consulting company.
The same company appeared on the hospital authorization paperwork.
I looked at Robert.
“Can you identify it?””
He examined the name.
“Possibly. I'll have it checked.””
I turned another page.
There were handwritten notes.
Vanessa — do not authorize.
Martin — investigate.
Rachel — contact Margaret.
And one sentence underlined three times.
Evelyn knows more than she admits.
I stared at it.
My mother had been involved much earlier than I had realized.
Then something else caught my attention.
A payment had been made to an account registered under a different surname.
*Collins.*
The recipient was listed as Rachel Collins.
But the date was six months after her disappearance.
I looked at Daniel.
“Did Rachel receive money?””
He shook his head.
“Not that I know of.””
Robert photographed the page.
“That's important. It may help us trace where she went.””
I looked at the next entry.
A note in my father's handwriting read:
If anything happens to me, Rachel must receive the original file.
I closed the ledger.
“Where is the original file?””
Daniel looked at me.
“I think Vanessa has it.””
That evening, I met my mother at a small restaurant near her house.
She arrived wearing a dark coat and carrying a handbag.
She looked older than I remembered.
Her eyes were swollen.
She sat opposite me without removing her coat.
“Michael.””
I placed the photograph on the table.
“Tell me about this.””
She looked at it.
Then she covered her mouth.
“Where did you get that?””
“Daniel.””
She closed her eyes.
“I was afraid he would tell you.””
“Why were you holding that bottle?””
She looked down.
“Dr. Martin had asked me to bring Dad his medication.””
“Why didn't a nurse bring it?””
“He said it was a special prescription.””
“Did you see the prescription?””
“No.””
“Did you ask what was inside?””
She shook her head.
I stared at her.
“Mom, you did the same thing with Sarah.””
She began crying.
“I know.””
I leaned forward.
“Did you understand what you were giving them?””
“No.””
“Did Vanessa?””
My mother hesitated.
“I think she knew more than she told me.””
I sat back.
“Why did you keep helping her?””
“Because she had the recording.””
“What recording?””
My mother took a small envelope from her handbag.
She pushed it across the table.
“I found this in your father's desk after he died.””
I opened it.
Inside was a printed transcript of a conversation.
My father's voice was recorded on one side.
My mother's on the other.
The date was three weeks before his death.
I began reading.
*FATHER:* Evelyn, Vanessa cannot be trusted.
*MOTHER:* She's trying to help Daniel.
*FATHER:* She's using Daniel.
*MOTHER:* She's your granddaughter's daughter.
*FATHER:* That doesn't give her the right to destroy this family.
I stopped.
My father had known.
He had known Vanessa was dangerous.
I continued.
*MOTHER:* What do you want me to do?
*FATHER:* Tell Michael the truth.
*MOTHER:* He'll never forgive us.
*FATHER:* Then let him hate us for the truth instead of loving us through a lie.
I looked up.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
My mother wiped her cheeks.
“Because I thought I could fix everything.””
“How?””
She lowered her voice.
“Vanessa promised that if I helped her recover the trust documents, she would leave the children alone.””
I shook my head.
“And you believed her?””
“I wanted to.””
I looked at the transcript again.
There was another section.
*FATHER:* If anything happens to me, make sure Margaret receives the original medical file.
*MOTHER:* Why?
*FATHER:* Because Dr. Martin has been falsifying records.
My heart began pounding.
I turned the page.
The final section contained a statement from my father.
I have reason to believe Dr. Martin has been accepting payments to alter medical treatment records. Vanessa has been communicating with him directly.
At the bottom was a handwritten note.
Evelyn must not be allowed to sign anything.
I looked at my mother.
“What did you sign?””
She began shaking.
“An authorization.””
“For what?””
“To transfer the original file to Vanessa.””
I closed my eyes.
“Where is it now?””
“I don't know.””
“Mom!””
“She said she needed it to protect the family.””
I stared at her.
“Do you even hear yourself?””
She began sobbing.
Then she reached into her handbag again.
This time, she removed a small key.
“I kept something else.””
I looked at it.
“What?””
“A key to your father's old office.””
I frowned.
“His office was cleared years ago.””
“Not the private room behind it.””
I stared at her.
“What private room?””
My mother looked around before speaking.
“Your father had a locked archive beneath the office. He kept the original business records there.””
I took the key.
“Why didn't you tell anyone?””
“Because Vanessa doesn't know I still have it.””
I looked at her.
“Are you sure?””
She nodded.
Then her expression changed.
“Michael, there's something you need to understand. Vanessa didn't just want the money.””
“What else?””
“She wanted the original medical file because it contained evidence of something Dr. Martin had done before your father became ill.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
“What?””
My mother whispered:
“He had been using the same medication on several patients. Your father was one of them.””
I looked at the key.
Then at the photograph.
“Do you think he was killed?””
My mother began crying.
“I don't know.””
For the first time, I believed her.
She might genuinely not know.
But that didn't make her innocent.
I stood.
“I'm taking this key to Robert.””
She nodded.
Then she grabbed my hand.
“Michael, please.””
I looked down.
“Don't let Vanessa find the archive.””
I pulled my hand away.
“Why?””
My mother stared at me.
“Because your father left something there that proves who she really is.””
At 9:30 p.m., I arrived at my father's former office building with Robert.
The company had been sold years earlier, but the private archive was still part of the property.
The new owners had agreed to let us inspect the room under supervision.
We entered through a side corridor.
The office smelled of dust and old paper.
My father's desk remained in the same position, although most of the furniture had been removed.
Behind a wooden cabinet was a narrow door.
I inserted the key.
It turned.
Inside was a small room filled with filing cabinets.
Robert switched on the light.
On the central desk sat a metal box.
I opened it.
There were old company contracts, photographs, and medical correspondence.
At the bottom was a sealed brown envelope.
My father's handwriting covered the front.
For Michael. The truth about Vanessa.
I opened it.
Inside was a single photograph.
It showed a young Vanessa standing beside a woman I recognized.
Rachel.
But the photograph had been taken more than twenty years earlier.
I turned it over.
The date was written on the back.
Then I noticed the second line.
Vanessa is not Rachel's daughter.
I stared at the words.
My mother had told me Vanessa was Rachel's daughter.
Margaret had confirmed it.
But my father had written something different.
Robert took the photograph.
“Michael, look at the envelope.””
I turned it over.
There was another message.
The DNA report was falsified. Vanessa is not my granddaughter.
My blood ran cold.
Then I heard footsteps in the corridor.
Someone was coming toward the archive.
Robert stepped in front of me.
A woman's voice came through the doorway.
“Michael, you really should have stopped looking.””
Vanessa.
She was standing in the entrance.
And she wasn't alone.
May you like
Beside her stood Dr. Martin.
In his hand was the original medical file.
