Chapter 3: The Night My Mother Died
I read the message three times.
Then I looked at my father.
"What happened the night Mom died?""
He didn't answer.
Nia stepped closer.
"Marcus, whoever sent that message is trying to manipulate you.""
I turned toward her.
"Do you know who sent it?""
"No.""
"You answered too quickly.""
Her face tightened.
"Are you seriously accusing me of sending anonymous messages now?""
"I'm asking a question.""
"And I'm telling you I don't know!""
Evelyn stood beside the window, staring at the city below.
Richard had quietly stepped into the hallway to make a phone call.
My father remained seated.
His leather folder rested on the table.
I looked at the envelope with my name on it.
"Why didn't you ever tell me there was something suspicious about Mom's death?""
Arthur lowered his eyes.
"Because you were eleven.""
"That was twenty-three years ago.""
"I know.""
"Then why am I finding out from anonymous text messages?""
He took a slow breath.
"Because your mother made me promise.""
I shook my head.
"Promise what?""
"That I would let you grow up without carrying the weight of what happened.""
I pulled out the chair opposite him.
"Well, Dad, I'm grown now.""
He looked at me.
For several seconds, I saw the same expression I remembered from childhood.
The expression he wore when he was trying to decide how to explain something painful without making it worse.
Finally, he opened the leather folder.
"Your mother was a bookkeeper before she became involved in the property business. She was very good with numbers. She noticed things other people missed.""
He paused.
"Twenty-three years ago, she discovered that several accounts connected to the Carter Group had been manipulated.""
Evelyn turned around.
"Arthur, that's enough.""
He ignored her.
"She found money moving through companies that didn't exist. Payments being approved twice. Property records being changed after transactions were completed.""
I frowned.
"Who was doing it?""
"Your mother's business partner.""
"Mr. Carter?""
Arthur nodded.
I looked at Evelyn.
She was gripping the back of a chair.
"Did your husband steal from my mother?""
Evelyn shook her head.
"He made mistakes.""
"What mistakes?""
"Business decisions. Bad investments. Things became complicated.""
My father gave a humorless laugh.
"That's an interesting way to describe stealing.""
Evelyn's voice rose.
"You weren't there, Arthur!""
"I was there when your husband threatened my wife.""
Silence.
My chest tightened.
"What?""
Arthur looked at me.
"Your mother came home one evening and told me she was frightened. She said someone had been following her.""
I felt the room tilt slightly.
"Why didn't she tell the police?""
"She was preparing a file. She wanted proof before making an accusation.""
"Did she get the proof?""
He nodded.
"She made copies of everything.""
I looked at the folder.
"Is that what you're carrying?""
"Part of it.""
I stared at him.
"Where's the rest?""
He didn't answer.
Evelyn stepped away from the window.
"Marcus, you need to understand that your father has spent years believing things that were never proven.""
My father looked at her.
"I watched your husband threaten my wife with my own eyes.""
"That was an argument!""
"He told her that if she destroyed his business, he would make sure she never saw her son grow up.""
I stopped breathing.
"What?""
My father looked away.
"He said it in our kitchen.""
The memory came back in fragments.
I remembered being eleven.
I remembered sitting on the staircase one evening, holding a plastic dinosaur.
I remembered hearing my parents arguing in the kitchen.
I remembered my mother telling someone to leave.
And I remembered my father carrying me upstairs afterward, telling me everything was all right.
I had forgotten most of it.
Or perhaps I had spent years trying to.
"Was Mr. Carter there that night?"" I asked.
Arthur nodded.
"He came to our house.""
Evelyn covered her face.
"Arthur, please.""
My father continued.
"Your mother told him she had copies of the financial records. She said she would hand them to investigators the following morning.""
I stared at him.
"And then?""
"That night, she died in a car accident.""
The words were familiar.
The explanation was not.
I remembered the funeral. The black clothes. The smell of flowers. My father's hand holding mine as people whispered condolences.
For years, I had believed my mother had lost control of her car on a rainy road.
Now I was hearing that she had been threatened hours before her death.
"Was it an accident?"" I whispered.
My father looked directly at me.
"I don't know.""
That answer frightened me more than anything else.
I stood up and walked toward the window.
Outside, traffic moved beneath the hotel like a river of headlights.
Behind me, Nia spoke softly.
"Marcus, I think we should leave.""
I turned.
"Why?""
"Because this is getting out of control.""
I stared at her.
"My mother may have been threatened before she died.""
"I understand that.""
"Do you?""
She stepped closer.
"Yes. But your father is making accusations against my family, and we don't even know whether they're true.""
My father looked at her.
"Your family?""
Nia frowned.
"What?""
He reached into the folder and removed a photograph.
It was old and slightly faded.
Three people stood outside a small brick building.
My mother.
Evelyn Carter.
And a man I recognized from photographs in the Carter family home.
Nia's father.
On the back, my mother's handwriting read:
The people who promised to protect each other.
I took the photograph.
"Why do you have this?""
"Because your mother gave it to me the day before she died.""
I examined it carefully.
Then I noticed something.
A fourth person stood partially visible in the reflection of a glass door behind them.
A man holding a briefcase.
I turned the photograph toward my father.
"Who is that?""
He looked at it.
His expression changed.
"Where did you get this?""
"From you.""
He leaned forward.
For the first time, his hands began shaking badly.
"That man shouldn't be in that photograph.""
"Why?""
Arthur swallowed.
"Because he was the police officer who investigated your mother's accident.""
Evelyn slowly sat down.
Nia stared at the picture.
"That doesn't mean anything.""
My father looked at her.
"His name was Detective Samuel Reed.""
I searched my memory.
I remembered hearing that name once.
At my mother's funeral, perhaps.
Or during one of the many conversations adults stopped when I entered the room.
I pulled out my phone and searched the name.
A local news article appeared.
*FORMER DETECTIVE CHARGED IN HISTORIC EVIDENCE TAMPERING CASE.*
I opened it.
The article was dated six years earlier.
Detective Reed had been accused of falsifying evidence in several cases. One involved a suspicious vehicle collision from more than two decades ago.
My mother's accident.
My knees weakened.
"Dad.""
Arthur nodded.
"I know.""
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because the case was never reopened.""
"Then why do you still have this?""
He looked at the photograph.
"Because I never believed the investigation was honest.""
I turned toward Evelyn.
"Did you know about Detective Reed?""
She nodded slowly.
"Your mother suspected him.""
"Suspected him of what?""
Evelyn wiped her cheeks.
"Of being paid to make certain evidence disappear.""
The room went completely silent.
I looked at Nia.
She was no longer crying.
She was staring at the photograph with an expression I couldn't understand.
Then her phone vibrated.
She glanced down.
A notification appeared on the screen.
I saw the name before she could turn it away.
*DANIEL CARTER.*
Her father had been dead for twelve years.
I frowned.
"Who's Daniel Carter?""
Nia immediately locked her phone.
"Nobody.""
I stared at her.
"Your father?""
She shook her head.
"Marcus, please.""
"Why is your dead father's name appearing on your phone?""
She looked toward Evelyn.
Her mother suddenly stood.
"Give me your phone, Nia.""
"No.""
"Nia, give it to me.""
"Stop telling me what to do!""
For the first time, Nia sounded genuinely frightened.
I stepped closer.
"Unlock it.""
She shook her head.
"Marcus, you don't understand.""
"Then help me understand.""
Her eyes filled with tears again.
She looked at the phone in her hand.
Then she slowly placed it on the table.
A new message appeared.
*I told you not to let Arthur open that folder. If Marcus reads the letter, everything is over.*
My blood ran cold.
I picked up the phone.
The sender's name was saved as Daniel Carter.
But there was something else.
The message thread contained dozens of conversations dating back several months.
Some were from before Nia and I got engaged.
Others were from the week we first met.
I scrolled upward.
One message caught my attention.
*Daniel Carter — 11 months ago:*
Get close to Marcus. His father is the only person who can stop the development. We need that signature before the other investors discover what happened.
I looked at Nia.
She began shaking her head.
"Marcus, please let me explain.""
I continued scrolling.
Another message appeared.
*Daniel Carter — 9 months ago:*
Do not tell him about his mother's documents. If he finds out what's inside that folder, he will never sign anything.
Then came the message that destroyed whatever remained of my trust.
*Daniel Carter — 3 months ago:*
Once the wedding is over, make sure Arthur transfers control of the property. After that, the boy won't be a problem.
I slowly lowered the phone.
"The boy?""
Nia covered her mouth.
My father rose from his chair.
"Marcus, give me that phone.""
I looked at him.
"Why?""
He stared at the screen.
Then he looked at Evelyn.
"Because I think I know who has been sending those messages.""
Evelyn began crying.
"No," she whispered.
Arthur took one step toward her.
"Tell him, Evelyn.""
She shook her head.
"Please don't.""
My father placed his hand on my shoulder.
"Son, your mother's death was never the only thing they wanted to keep buried.""
I looked down at the envelope bearing my name.
Then I tore it open.
Inside was a handwritten letter dated three days before my mother's accident.
The first line read:
My dearest Marcus, if your father is giving you this letter, it means the people I trusted have finally come back into your life.
I kept reading.
The second paragraph contained a name.
A name that made me look up at Nia.
Because it wasn't Daniel Carter.
It wasn't Evelyn.
It wasn't Detective Reed.
It was hers.
*Nia Carter.*
And beneath her name, my mother had written one sentence:
One day, this girl may be the reason you lose everything.
I stared at my fiancée.
She took a step backward.
May you like
Then she whispered something I would never forget.
"Your mother knew I existed long before I met you.""
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