Chapter 6: My Wife's Connection to Richard Cole
I stared at Vanessa.
"Claire Cole?""
She didn't answer.
"Was she your friend?""
Vanessa crossed her arms, but the gesture looked defensive rather than confident.
"Years ago.""
"How close?""
"Marcus, this is irrelevant.""
I laughed bitterly.
"My wife hides hospital documents, drains our investment account, tries to transfer our house, and now I discover she knew the daughter of the man trying to steal my father's company.""
I stepped closer.
"And you think her identity is irrelevant?""
Vanessa looked at Evelyn.
"Your mother is twisting things.""
My mother shook her head.
"I saw you with Claire.""
"That was years ago!""
"At the charity dinner," Evelyn said.
"You introduced her to me.""
Vanessa's expression changed.
I turned toward my mother.
"What charity dinner?""
Evelyn swallowed.
"The one at the Grand Regent Hotel. The night Marcus brought Vanessa home for the first time.""
I remembered it.
It had been nearly seven years earlier.
Vanessa and I had been dating for six months. She invited me to a charity event organized by one of her former colleagues.
I remembered a blonde woman standing beside her.
She had introduced herself as Claire.
I hadn't paid much attention.
I was busy trying to impress Vanessa.
"Why would Claire matter?"" I asked.
My mother answered quietly.
"Because she told me her father was Richard Cole.""
I turned toward Vanessa.
"Did you know?""
She rubbed her forehead.
"Yes.""
"From the beginning?""
"Yes.""
I felt something inside me break.
"Did you marry me because of my father's company?""
Her eyes filled with tears.
"No.""
"Then tell me why Claire was involved.""
Vanessa sat down.
For a long moment, she stared at the floor.
Then she spoke.
"Claire and I worked together at a marketing agency. We were friends. When I met you, I didn't know who your father was.""
"But you found out.""
"Yes.""
"When?""
"After we started dating.""
"How?""
"Claire recognized your last name. She asked whether you were related to Thomas Carter.""
I felt my jaw tighten.
"What did you say?""
"I told her you were his son.""
"And what did she do?""
"She asked questions.""
"What questions?""
"Whether your mother still owned the house. Whether your father had left any business interests. Whether you knew about a company called Northstar.""
I stepped backward.
"And you answered?""
Vanessa nodded.
"I didn't think it mattered.""
My mother let out a painful sigh.
I looked at my wife.
"Did you tell Claire about the trust?""
"Not at first.""
"Then when?""
"After we got engaged.""
I stared at her.
"Before or after?""
She began crying.
"Before.""
The room seemed to become smaller.
Our engagement had been one of the happiest periods of my life.
I remembered taking Vanessa to the beach, giving her a ring, and promising we would build a future together.
Had she been thinking about my father's money while I was planning our wedding?
"Did Claire introduce you to Richard again?""
Vanessa nodded.
"Two months ago.""
"Why?""
"She said her father had found new information about Northstar.""
I shook my head.
"Why didn't he contact me?""
"Because he believed your mother would never cooperate.""
"How convenient.""
Vanessa looked up.
"He said you would be better off without knowing.""
I stared at her.
"And you believed him?""
"He said he could make us wealthy.""
"We already had a good life.""
"Not like that!""
Her voice cracked.
"We could have had everything, Marcus. The houses, the travel, the freedom. I wouldn't have had to ask you for anything.""
I looked at her in disbelief.
"You had access to our money.""
"Not enough.""
The words came out before she could stop herself.
Silence.
She covered her mouth.
I slowly nodded.
"Thank you.""
"Marcus—"
"No. Thank you for finally telling me the truth.""
I walked out of the bedroom.
My phone rang as I reached the staircase.
Andrew Mitchell.
"Mr. Carter, I've reviewed the preliminary documents you sent.""
"What did you find?""
"The property transfer request is fraudulent. I recommend that you immediately place a legal restriction on the title and preserve all communications.""
"Already contacted the bank.""
"Good. I also located the original trust file.""
"Where?""
"In my office.""
"When can I see it?""
"This afternoon.""
He paused.
"There's one more thing. Your father left a provision requiring an independent review if anyone attempted to obtain control of the trust through coercion or misrepresentation.""
I stopped walking.
"What happens then?""
"The trustee's authority can be temporarily suspended while the allegations are investigated.""
I looked back toward the bedroom.
"Could that be why they wanted my mother to stop treatment?""
"Possibly. We need to examine the wording.""
I thanked him and ended the call.
Then I noticed something.
My mother had been watching me from the doorway.
"Mom, are you okay?""
She nodded.
But she was holding the brass key tightly.
"There's something I forgot to tell you.""
I walked back.
"What?""
"Your father didn't only leave a key to the storage unit.""
She opened her palm.
A small folded piece of paper rested beneath the key.
I unfolded it.
It was an old handwritten note.
Evelyn, if Richard returns, do not give him the blue ledger. It contains the names of everyone involved. Take it to Andrew. If anything happens to me, protect Marcus.
I read it twice.
"The blue ledger?""
My mother nodded.
"I saw it once. Your father kept it in a metal box.""
"Inside the storage unit?""
"Yes.""
"Have you ever opened it?""
"No.""
I looked at the date.
It was written three days before my father's death.
I folded the note carefully and placed it in my pocket.
Then I heard a sound downstairs.
A car door.
I glanced through the bedroom window.
A black Mercedes had stopped in front of our house.
A tall man stepped out.
He wore a charcoal suit and carried a leather briefcase.
He looked directly at the house.
Then he checked his phone.
My phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
*Don't go to Harbor Storage. We know about Unit 314.*
I stared at the message.
Another one arrived.
*The blue ledger belongs to us. Your father stole it.*
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"Mom, stay here.""
She grabbed my arm.
"Who is it?""
I looked outside again.
The man was walking toward the front door.
"Someone who knows about the storage unit.""
The doorbell rang.
Once.
Twice.
Then my phone rang.
This time, the caller ID displayed a name.
*Andrew Mitchell.*
I answered.
"Andrew?""
His voice was urgent.
"Marcus, listen carefully. Do not let anyone into that house until you know who they are.""
I looked through the window.
The man outside was now holding an envelope.
"Someone is at my door.""
Andrew went silent.
Then he asked:
"Is he carrying a leather briefcase?""
"Yes.""
A long pause.
"That's Richard Cole.""
I stared at the man standing on my porch.
Then Richard raised his head and looked directly at me through the glass.
He smiled.
My phone pressed against my ear.
Andrew's voice returned, almost a whisper.
"Marcus, there's something I haven't told you about your father's death.""
The doorbell rang again.
Andrew continued.
"Richard Cole was the last person seen with your father alive.""
And before I could respond, Richard slipped a photograph beneath the front door.
It was a picture of my father.
Standing beside Richard.
Taken the morning he died.
May you like
On the back, written in black ink, were six words:
*Your father trusted the wrong woman.*
