Chapter 11: The Mother Who Never Died
I had spent twelve years mourning a woman who had apparently been alive all along.
Now I was being told that she had arranged the disappearance of a man whose funeral I had attended.
Nothing about my family made sense anymore.
Vanessa sat at the dining table with her hands wrapped around a glass of water.
Samuel stood near the window.
Nia remained beside me.
"Start talking," I said.
Vanessa nodded.
"After the accident, your mother survived.""
I stared at her.
"What accident?""
"The crash. Edward's car hit hers. She suffered serious injuries, but she survived.""
"Then why was there a funeral?""
Vanessa looked down.
"Because Edward needed everyone to believe she was dead.""
"Why?""
"Because she had the recording. She had proof that he was stealing money through your father's company.""
I shook my head.
"That still doesn't explain the funeral.""
Vanessa took a breath.
"Your mother was taken to a private hospital under another name. Edward arranged for a body to be released to the family.""
I felt sick.
"Whose body?""
Vanessa began crying.
"I don't know.""
I slammed my hand against the table.
"You watched me bury a stranger!""
She flinched.
"I know.""
"You watched me cry at her grave!""
"I know, Michael!""
"Did you ever feel anything?""
Vanessa looked at me.
"Every single day.""
I turned away.
I couldn't look at her.
Samuel finally spoke.
"Why didn't she come back for us?""
Vanessa looked at him.
"She tried.""
"How?""
"She contacted your father several times. But Edward had people watching the house. He threatened to hurt Michael if she returned.""
I turned.
"Me?""
Vanessa nodded.
"He told her that if she appeared, he would make sure you disappeared too.""
I remembered the years after my mother's death.
My father had become protective.
He hired drivers.
Installed security cameras.
Refused to let me travel alone.
I had thought it was grief.
Now I wondered whether he had been afraid.
"Why did Dad never tell me?""
"Because your mother asked him not to.""
I stared at her.
"Why?""
"She believed Edward would stop searching if everyone accepted that she was dead.""
Samuel shook his head.
"That's not an explanation for abandoning me.""
Vanessa lowered her eyes.
"No. It isn't.""
I looked at her.
"And where does Edward fit into all this?""
She took a moment before answering.
"Your mother discovered that Edward had been using Samuel's identity to move money. He had created a network of companies under the names of people who didn't know they existed.""
I thought about Collins Legacy Management.
My stolen signature.
The dead man's account.
"Was Daniel involved?""
"Yes.""
"Was Robert?""
"Yes.""
"Was my father?""
Vanessa looked up.
"Your father knew about the money, but he didn't know everything. He thought Edward was protecting the company.""
"Then he found out.""
She nodded.
"And he tried to stop him.""
I looked at the documents scattered across the table.
"Why did Edward disappear?""
Vanessa rubbed her forehead.
"Your mother helped arrange it. She had evidence that could have sent him to prison. Edward agreed to disappear in exchange for her silence.""
"Why would she agree to that?""
"Because he threatened you.""
Samuel shook his head.
"And the money?""
"Edward kept control of the hidden accounts. He continued using Daniel to move funds. Your father eventually discovered the truth and established the trust to protect you and Samuel.""
I looked at her.
"So Edward came back because he wants the trust.""
Vanessa nodded.
"And because your mother has finally agreed to testify.""
I froze.
"She's going to testify?""
"Yes.""
"Against Edward?""
"And everyone who helped him.""
I stared at my wife.
"Why would she contact me now?""
Vanessa's expression changed.
"Because Edward found out where she was.""
I looked toward the photograph.
My mother standing beside the window.
She looked frightened.
"How do you know?""
Vanessa reached into her handbag and removed a small envelope.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
I recognized the handwriting immediately.
My mother's.
Michael,
If you are reading this, I have finally run out of time.
I know you believe I died twelve years ago. I know you have spent years wondering why I never came home.
I am sorry.
There were nights when I sat outside your house and watched you sleep through your bedroom window. There were mornings when I stood across the street and watched you leave for school.
I wanted to run to you.
But every time I came close, someone reminded me what would happen if I did.
Your father tried to protect you. I tried to protect you. We made decisions that hurt you because we believed keeping you alive mattered more than telling you the truth.
I know you may never forgive me.
But there is something you must know.
The man who ordered the accident wasn't Edward.
I stopped reading.
I looked at Vanessa.
"Who was it?""
She shook her head.
"Your mother didn't tell me.""
I continued.
It was someone who had access to the company, the police report, and the insurance documents.
Someone who knew exactly where I would be that night.
Someone who has been standing beside you for years.
I lowered the letter.
My mind raced.
Robert.
Daniel.
Vanessa.
Edward.
My father.
Who had arranged the accident?
The next paragraph contained one final sentence.
Michael, the original recording is not the only evidence. The person responsible left something in your father's old lake house.
I looked up.
"The lake house.""
Vanessa nodded.
"That's where your mother is waiting.""
I immediately called the police and told them we were going to the property.
The officer warned me not to approach without a team.
I agreed.
But before they arrived, Samuel received a message.
He read it.
Then his face went white.
"What is it?"" I asked.
He showed me the screen.
It was from an unknown number.
*If Michael brings the police, your mother dies.*
A second message followed.
*And this time, there won't be a substitute body.*
I stared at Samuel.
"Who sent this?""
He shook his head.
Then my phone rang.
An unfamiliar number.
I answered.
A woman's voice whispered:
"Michael?""
I stopped breathing.
It was a voice I hadn't heard since I was twelve.
A voice that used to sing me to sleep.
A voice that used to call me her little boy.
"Mom?""
There was a quiet sob.
"Oh, Michael.""
My knees nearly gave way.
"Where are you?""
"Listen carefully. Don't come to the lake house.""
"Why?""
"Because the person who arranged my accident is already there.""
"Who?""
She took a shaky breath.
Then she said:
May you like
"Your father.""
The call disconnected.
