Chapter 6: The Last Thing My Father Tried to Tell Me
I couldn't hear anything except the blood rushing through my ears.
My father had been dead for five years.
Five years of anniversaries.
Five years of visiting his grave.
Five years of telling myself that his final days had simply been cruel and unavoidable.
Now a hospital employee was telling me there might have been something wrong with the official cause of death.
"Ma'am," I said slowly, "I need you to repeat that.""
The woman on the phone lowered her voice.
"The original toxicology report contains findings that don't appear in the final medical summary.""
"What findings?""
"I'm not authorized to interpret the results, Mr. Carter. But I can confirm that the report was amended after the initial review.""
"Who requested the amendment?""
A pause.
"Your father's attending physician.""
"Was my mother involved?""
"I can't discuss that over the phone.""
I looked at Patricia.
She was already writing something on a notepad.
"Send me the original report," I said.
"And preserve every version of the medical file.""
"We'll need to verify your identity and your legal authorization.""
"I'll have my attorney contact you.""
I ended the call.
My mother stood near the window.
She looked smaller than I had ever seen her.
"Marcus," she whispered.
I turned toward her.
"Did you know?""
She shook her head.
"Your father was dying. The doctors told us there was nothing more they could do.""
"That isn't what I asked.""
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Please don't do this.""
"Did you know his medical records had been changed?""
She looked toward Patricia.
Patricia spoke firmly.
"Evelyn, I strongly recommend that you answer his questions.""
My mother sat down.
For several seconds, she stared at her hands.
Then she said:
"Your father was taking medication for his heart.""
"I know.""
"Sometimes he became confused. He forgot conversations. He accused people of things that hadn't happened.""
"Did you change his medication?""
"No!""
Her answer came too quickly.
I looked at Patricia.
She placed the pharmacy record beside the forged guardianship agreement.
"Mrs. Carter, this document indicates that you collected a prescription under your husband's name.""
"My husband asked me to collect it.""
"Was the medication prescribed by his physician?""
"Of course.""
"Then you won't object to providing the dispensing records.""
My mother rubbed her forehead.
"Why is everyone treating me like a criminal?""
I couldn't believe she was asking that question.
"Because you arranged for someone to slap my wife. Because you tried to take money from your granddaughter. Because someone forged Nia's signature. And now there's a question about Dad's death.""
Evelyn began crying.
Not the quiet kind of crying.
The kind that came with anger.
"I gave everything to this family!""
I looked at her.
"You gave everything to yourself.""
She stood abruptly.
"Your father was never fair to me!""
Patricia remained silent.
My mother continued.
"He made me live in his shadow. Every decision had to be approved by him. Every business meeting revolved around Marcus. Every family photograph had to show the perfect Carter family.""
I stared at her.
"Is that why you stole from us?""
"Vanessa was my daughter before I ever met your father. I couldn't abandon her twice.""
"You didn't abandon her. You hid her.""
My mother wiped her cheeks.
"Your father would never have accepted her.""
"Did you even give him the chance?""
She said nothing.
Nia shifted Grace in her arms.
"Marcus," she whispered, "I think Grace needs to sleep.""
I looked at my daughter.
Her eyelids were drooping.
I took her gently from Nia.
"Let's get you settled.""
Nia nodded.
I carried Grace into the bedroom and laid her in the small travel crib the hotel staff had prepared.
Her tiny hand closed around my finger.
For a moment, I forgot the documents, the money, and the accusations.
She was just a baby.
My baby.
I bent down and kissed her forehead.
"Nobody is taking anything from you, sweetheart.""
Behind me, Nia stood in the doorway.
"Marcus?""
I turned.
She looked exhausted.
"Do you think your mother could really have hurt your father?""
I didn't want to answer.
Because the truth was that I no longer knew who my mother was.
"I don't know.""
Nia stepped closer.
"Whatever happened, we need to find out.""
I nodded.
Then she reached into her diaper bag.
"I found something else.""
She held out a small folded piece of paper.
It was the letter Patricia had given her earlier, but there was something written on the back.
A short handwritten message.
If Evelyn denies everything, ask her about the blue room.
I frowned.
"What blue room?""
Nia shook her head.
"I don't know. It was inside the envelope.""
I walked back into the living room.
Patricia was speaking to Thomas near the entrance.
My mother had disappeared.
"Where's Evelyn?""
Thomas looked uncomfortable.
"She left through the private elevator.""
"Did security stop her?""
"She requested permission to leave. I didn't think we had legal grounds to detain her.""
I nodded.
"That's fine. Make sure nobody deletes today's footage.""
"Already handled, sir.""
I showed Patricia the handwritten note.
She stared at it.
Then she closed her eyes.
"Your father had a study in the old family residence.""
I frowned.
"The house in Connecticut?""
"Yes. There was a room behind the library. Your father called it the blue room.""
I remembered it.
When I was a child, my father had a small office with dark blue walls and shelves filled with old books.
He rarely allowed anyone inside.
After his death, my mother had renovated the entire house.
I had assumed the room was converted into a guest bedroom.
"Why would my father leave a message about that room?""
Patricia looked at me.
"Because he told me he kept certain original financial records there.""
"What records?""
"Copies of the trust agreements. Original bank correspondence. And something he believed could prove that the financial irregularities began before his illness.""
I stared at her.
"Does my mother know?""
Patricia nodded.
"She knows the room existed.""
"Then why didn't she destroy whatever was inside?""
Patricia lowered her voice.
"Because your father told me he had made arrangements to ensure that nobody could access the room without a specific key.""
I looked at Nia.
"Where is the key?""
Patricia reached into her briefcase.
She removed a small envelope.
Inside was a brass key attached to a blue plastic tag.
Written across the tag were two words.
*FOR MARCUS.*
I took it.
My father had left it for me.
Not for my mother.
Not for Vanessa.
For me.
And suddenly, I understood why my mother had been so desperate to keep Nia away from the penthouse.
She hadn't simply wanted to prevent my wife from entering the private wing.
She had wanted to stop us from discovering what my father had hidden.
"Patricia," I said, "we're going to Connecticut.""
She nodded.
"I'll arrange for an independent investigator to accompany us.""
"No.""
She frowned.
"Marcus, I strongly advise against going alone.""
"I didn't say we were going alone.""
I looked at Nia.
"You're coming with me?""
She glanced at Grace.
"Of course. But we need to make sure she's safe.""
Patricia immediately offered to arrange a private security team and a separate car for Nia and the baby.
Before we could make any further arrangements, my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
I opened the message.
There was no greeting.
Just a photograph.
It showed the blue room in my father's old house.
The shelves had been emptied.
The desk was overturned.
And the small wall safe behind the bookcase stood open.
Beneath the photograph was a message.
You're too late, Marcus.
Another message appeared.
Your father wasn't the only person who knew what happened that night.
I stared at the screen.
Then a final message arrived.
Ask your wife what she found in the hotel nursery.
I slowly raised my eyes toward Nia.
She was standing beside the bedroom door, holding Grace's blanket.
Her face had turned white.
"Marcus," she whispered.
I showed her the message.
She stared at it for several seconds.
Then she looked toward the travel crib.
"I didn't want to tell you until I was certain.""
My stomach tightened.
"Tell me what?""
She swallowed.
"When I was looking for the lobby, I passed a small room with a sign that said 'Nursery.'' The door was open.""
I waited.
"There was a box inside with Grace's name on it.""
I stepped closer.
"What was in the box?""
Nia's eyes filled with tears.
"A photograph.""
"Of whom?""
She looked directly at me.
"It was a photograph of you and your father.""
I frowned.
"What's strange about that?""
Nia shook her head.
"Marcus, the photograph was taken five years ago.""
My heart began pounding.
"Your father was already dead.""
"I know.""
She reached into her handbag and pulled out a small photograph.
It showed my father standing beside a woman in a hospital corridor.
He looked healthy.
He was smiling.
And the date printed on the back was three days after the date on his death certificate.
I stared at the photograph.
Then I noticed the woman standing beside him.
It wasn't my mother.
It wasn't Vanessa.
It was Patricia Lewis.
I turned toward the attorney.
"Patricia...""
She looked at the photograph.
All the color drained from her face.
May you like
Then she whispered:
"That's impossible. I buried him myself.""
