Chapter 11: The Room Where My Father Disappeared
I didn't tell Thomas about the message immediately.
I read it several times, then showed him the screen.
He frowned.
"Absolutely not.""
"I haven't said anything.""
"You don't need to. You're considering going.""
I looked at the address.
The rehabilitation facility had been closed for years. It was located near an old industrial road, surrounded by trees and abandoned buildings.
"Someone knows where my father is.""
"Or someone wants you to believe that.""
"What if it's true?""
Thomas lowered his voice.
"Then we go together. With police support.""
I nodded.
But I had already made another decision.
I wasn't going to let Daniel know what we were doing.
At 8:40 that evening, Thomas arranged for two trusted officers to accompany us at a distance.
Marcus remained at the mansion.
Eleanor was instructed not to open the door to anyone.
Before leaving, I went into my father's study.
I picked up the old photograph of him and me.
He had been smiling.
I had forgotten how much I missed that smile.
"Wait for me, Dad," I whispered.
The drive took just over an hour.
Rain began falling halfway through the journey.
When we reached the facility, the building looked exactly like something abandoned by time.
Broken windows.
A rusted sign.
Weeds growing through the parking lot.
Thomas parked several hundred feet away.
"Stay behind me.""
I looked at him.
"I can walk.""
"I know. That's not what I'm worried about.""
We approached the entrance.
The front door was unlocked.
Inside, the air smelled of damp plaster and disinfectant.
Our footsteps echoed along a long corridor.
Several old wheelchairs stood against the walls.
One of them had a faded name tag.
*A. BENNETT.*
I stopped.
Thomas followed my gaze.
"Alexander?""
I touched the metal frame.
It was the same model I had used after my accident.
A cold feeling spread through my chest.
Someone had brought me here before.
Or someone had kept records of me here.
We continued down the corridor.
At the end was a door with a small glass window.
Light shone beneath it.
I approached slowly.
Then I heard a voice.
An old man's voice.
"Please. I told you I don't remember.""
My heart stopped.
I knew that voice.
I had heard it every night when I was a child.
"Dad?""
Silence.
Then the voice came again.
"Alexander?""
I pushed the door open.
A man sat beside a narrow hospital bed.
His hair was almost entirely white. His face was thinner than I remembered, and his shoulders were bent.
But his eyes were the same.
My father.
Alive.
For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.
Then he stood.
His knees trembled.
"Alexander?""
I crossed the room.
"Dad.""
He reached for me.
I fell into his arms.
He smelled of soap and old books.
The smell of home.
I held him tightly, afraid that if I let go, he would disappear again.
"My boy," he whispered.
I couldn't stop crying.
"They told me you were dead.""
"I know.""
"Why didn't you come home?""
He closed his eyes.
"Because I couldn't.""
I pulled back.
"Who did this to you?""
He looked toward the door.
Then he whispered one name.
"Daniel.""
I felt anger rise in my chest.
"I know.""
My father shook his head.
"No. You don't understand.""
He sat down slowly.
"Daniel didn't just want the company. He wanted something your grandfather left behind.""
"What?""
"A controlling interest in the family trust.""
I frowned.
"That's already part of the estate.""
"Not all of it.""
My father reached beneath his mattress and removed a small photograph.
It showed an old document bearing my grandfather's signature.
"The original trust agreement included a hidden provision. Whoever controlled the controlling interest would have authority over every major family asset.""
I stared at the paper.
"Who has it?""
My father looked at me.
"You do.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Why didn't I know?""
"Because your grandfather wanted to protect you. He instructed me to reveal it only when you were old enough to understand what it meant.""
I examined the document.
A signature.
A date.
And a clause transferring control to me upon my father's death.
"But you didn't die.""
My father nodded.
"Exactly.""
I looked up.
"Then why has Daniel been acting as though he owns everything?""
"Because Richard helped him create a false death certificate. They used it to trigger the estate transfer.""
Thomas stepped forward.
"That means the entire transfer may be invalid.""
My father looked at him.
"Who are you?""
"Thomas Reed. I'm helping your son.""
My father nodded slowly.
"Then perhaps there's still hope.""
I knelt beside him.
"Tell me everything.""
He took a trembling breath.
"Sophie was supposed to help Daniel arrange a financial deception. But she became frightened when she discovered how far he was willing to go.""
"She drove the car.""
My father looked at me sharply.
"She told you?""
"Margaret did.""
He closed his eyes.
"Margaret shouldn't have been involved.""
"Why?""
"Because she was the one who warned me.""
I stared at him.
"Then why did she disappear?""
"She was trying to find evidence.""
He paused.
"And she wasn't the only one.""
I leaned closer.
"Who else?""
My father looked toward the door.
His face changed.
"Someone has followed you.""
Thomas immediately turned.
A shadow moved across the glass window.
Then the lights went out.
A loud crash echoed from the corridor.
Thomas grabbed my shoulder.
"Get down!""
A second later, a man's voice shouted.
"Find Bennett! The old man must not leave this building!""
My father grabbed my wrist.
His fingers were surprisingly strong.
"Alexander, listen to me.""
"What?""
He looked terrified.
"Before you trust anyone again, you need to know something about your wife.""
I stared at him.
"What about Sophie?""
He swallowed.
"She wasn't the person who arranged your accident.""
A heavy impact shook the door.
May you like
My father whispered:
"She was the person who tried to stop it.""
