Chapter 3: The Brother Who Wanted Me Buried
For several seconds, I couldn't hear anything except the sound of the ocean outside my window.
Daniel.
My younger brother.
The boy who used to sleep beside my bed whenever thunderstorms frightened him.
The man who had stood beside me at our father's funeral.
The person I had trusted with my company, my home, and my life.
He was the beneficiary of a thirty-million-dollar insurance policy on me.
"Thomas," I said quietly, "how long has that policy existed?""
"Almost two years.""
"Two years?""
"Yes. It was issued shortly before your accident.""
I closed my eyes.
"Was it active when I was injured?""
"Yes.""
"Did Daniel arrange it?""
"The paperwork suggests he was involved. But there's another problem.""
"What?""
"Your medical records.""
I straightened.
"What about them?""
"Someone requested copies of your hospital records shortly after the accident. The request included information about your neurological condition and the likelihood of future mobility.""
"Who requested them?""
"An attorney representing an insurance consultant.""
"Name?""
"Victor Hale.""
I recognized it.
Victor was a financial adviser who had worked with my father for years. He had retired shortly before my accident.
"Thomas, I want everything. Every payment, every email, every signature.""
"You'll have it.""
"And don't contact Daniel.""
"I wasn't planning to.""
When the call ended, I sat alone in my study.
I looked at a photograph on the bookshelf.
My father stood between Daniel and me on the deck of his old sailboat.
Daniel was twelve.
I was seventeen.
My father had one hand on each of our shoulders.
Underneath the photograph, he had written:
My two boys. My greatest investment.
I turned the frame facedown.
Then I heard a soft knock.
It was Eleanor, our housekeeper.
She had worked for my family for twenty-two years. She had helped raise Daniel and me after our mother died.
"Mr. Bennett?""
"Come in, Eleanor.""
She entered carrying a folded towel and a fresh shirt.
"I thought you might need these.""
"Thank you.""
She placed them on the desk.
Then she glanced toward the door.
"May I ask you something?""
"Of course.""
"Are you really all right?""
I looked at her.
She had tears in her eyes.
"I saw the security footage, sir.""
I nodded.
"I know.""
Eleanor lowered her voice.
"Mrs. Bennett wasn't alone at the marina.""
My entire body went still.
"What?""
"I saw someone standing near the parking area. A man.""
"Who?""
"I couldn't see his face clearly. He was wearing a dark baseball cap.""
"Did he approach Sophie?""
"No. But he was holding a phone. I think he was recording.""
I stood.
"Why didn't you tell the police?""
She looked frightened.
"Because I received a warning.""
"From whom?""
Eleanor reached into the pocket of her apron.
She pulled out a small folded piece of paper.
"I found this under my bedroom door last night.""
I opened it.
Four words had been written in black ink.
*KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT.*
I looked up.
"Eleanor, did Sophie give you this?""
She shook her head.
"No, sir.""
"Daniel?""
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
My stomach tightened.
"What exactly did he say to you?""
Eleanor clasped her hands.
"Yesterday afternoon, Mr. Daniel asked me whether you had been sleeping well. Then he asked if you were still taking the medication prescribed after your accident.""
I frowned.
"Why?""
"He said he was concerned you might become confused if you started walking again.""
I stared at her.
"Did he say anything else?""
Eleanor swallowed.
"He asked whether you had ever spoken about changing your will.""
The room seemed to grow colder.
My will.
I had created it after the accident, when doctors still believed I would remain paralyzed.
Daniel was the primary successor to several of my business interests.
Sophie had been given control over the family trust.
If I died, the money would be distributed between them.
If I recovered, I could change everything.
And they knew it.
"Thank you, Eleanor.""
She looked at me with a mixture of sadness and fear.
"Your father would be heartbroken.""
I looked toward the photograph.
"Yes," I said.
"He would.""
That evening, I decided to play along.
At seven o'clock, I entered the dining room in a wheelchair.
I had changed into a charcoal suit, and my legs were covered by a dark blanket.
Sophie was already seated at the table.
Daniel sat opposite her.
Both looked up.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Sophie smiled.
It was the same smile she had used when introducing me to her friends.
The same smile she had worn at our wedding.
"Alexander. You should have told me you were coming down.""
"I live here.""
Daniel laughed.
"That's our brother.""
I positioned my wheelchair at the head of the table.
"Are we having dinner?""
Sophie gestured toward the plates.
"Of course, darling.""
A server placed a bowl of soup in front of me.
I noticed Sophie watching my hands.
She seemed unusually tense.
Daniel lifted his glass.
"To family.""
I looked at him.
"To family.""
We drank.
Then Sophie placed her spoon down.
"Alexander, I've been thinking.""
"That sounds dangerous.""
Daniel laughed too quickly.
Sophie ignored him.
"I think we need to discuss your recovery.""
"What about it?""
"Your condition is complicated. The doctors were very clear that you shouldn't overexert yourself.""
"Which doctors?""
"The ones who treated you.""
"Have you spoken to them recently?""
She glanced at Daniel.
"Not recently.""
"Interesting.""
I took another spoonful of soup.
Then I looked at my brother.
"Daniel, how is the company?""
"Excellent.""
"Any problems?""
"Nothing we can't handle.""
"Good. Because I've been considering making some changes.""
His smile faded.
"What kind of changes?""
"Leadership changes. Financial restructuring. Perhaps a new board.""
Sophie set down her glass.
"Alexander, that's a little sudden.""
"Why?""
"You've been through a traumatic experience.""
I looked directly at her.
"Apparently, I've been through several.""
Nobody spoke.
Then Daniel cleared his throat.
"Maybe we should talk about this tomorrow.""
"Why tomorrow?""
"Because it's been a long day.""
I nodded.
"You're right.""
I pushed my wheelchair away from the table.
"Good night, both of you.""
As I left the dining room, I heard Sophie whisper something.
I stopped just beyond the doorway.
Her voice was low, but the corridor carried it perfectly.
"He's becoming suspicious.""
Daniel answered.
"Then we need to move faster.""
Sophie sounded almost desperate.
"What about the documents?""
"I have them.""
"And the doctor?""
"He's already agreed.""
I felt my pulse quicken.
Then Daniel said something that made my fingers tighten around the wheelchair armrest.
"If Alexander changes his will before Friday, none of this matters.""
Sophie whispered, "Then we can't let him reach Friday.""
I didn't move.
I didn't breathe.
A moment later, footsteps approached the doorway.
I quickly rolled farther down the corridor.
My bedroom door was open.
I entered and closed it silently.
Then I called Thomas.
"Get here tonight.""
"What's happened?""
"They're planning something.""
"Who?""
"My wife and my brother.""
I looked through the curtains toward the marina.
The ocean was black beneath the moonlight.
"Thomas, I want to know what happens on Friday.""
"I'll find out.""
"And one more thing.""
"Yes?""
"Find the doctor who treated me after my accident.""
Thomas paused.
"Why?""
"Because I think someone may have been lying about my medical condition.""
Before he could answer, my bedroom door handle began turning.
I froze.
The door opened.
Sophie stepped inside carrying a glass of water.
She smiled gently.
"Darling, I thought you might be thirsty.""
I slipped my phone beneath the blanket.
"That's thoughtful.""
She placed the glass on my bedside table.
Then she leaned down and kissed my forehead.
Her perfume filled the room.
"I love you, Alexander.""
I looked into her eyes.
For six years, those words had made me feel safe.
Now they sounded like a threat.
"Do you?"" I asked.
She smiled.
"More than anything.""
She turned toward the door.
Then stopped.
"Oh, I almost forgot.""
She reached into her handbag and removed a small white envelope.
"Your doctor called earlier. He wants you to take these before bed.""
I looked at the envelope.
There was no pharmacy label.
No prescription number.
Just my name written in neat handwriting.
"What's inside?""
"Your medication.""
I lifted my eyes.
"Which doctor?""
Sophie smiled again.
"Dr. Harrison.""
My blood ran cold.
Dr. Harrison had died six months earlier.
And Sophie knew it.
I looked at the envelope.
Then at my wife.
She was still smiling.
And suddenly, I understood something far more terrifying than the insurance policy.
May you like
They hadn't simply planned for me to die.
They had already prepared a story to explain why.
