Chapter 2: The Secret My Father Buried
I didn't sleep that night.
The envelope sat on my kitchen counter long after Jayden had gone to bed.
I kept staring at the words.
Payment received in full.
My father, Richard Hayes, had been dead for seven years.
He had been a respected businessman, a devoted church volunteer, and the kind of man neighbors described as dependable.
He taught me how to ride a bicycle.
He attended every school performance.
He sat beside me at my college graduation.
And according to everything I had been told, he had raised me alone after my mother abandoned us.
Now I was beginning to wonder whether the man who had raised me had also stolen my childhood.
At 2:17 a.m., I opened the envelope.
Inside were photocopies of bank statements, handwritten notes, and several legal documents.
One paper had a date stamped at the top.
June 14, 1996.
I read the first paragraph.
Then the second.
My heart began beating faster.
It was a document related to custody.
But something was wrong.
The signature at the bottom looked like my mother's.
The witness signature belonged to a man named Thomas Reed.
I recognized that name.
Thomas Reed had been my father's attorney.
He had also delivered the speech at my father's funeral.
I picked up my phone.
I searched through my contacts until I found an old number saved under the name Dad's Lawyer.
I hesitated.
Then I called.
The phone rang four times.
A tired voice answered.
“Hello?””
“Mr. Reed?””
“Yes. Who is this?””
“My name is Marcus Hayes. Richard Hayes was my father.””
Silence.
Then a slow breath.
“Marcus.””
“I need to ask you something about my mother.””
Another silence.
“What about her?””
“Did she abandon me?””
I heard something being placed on a table.
“Marcus, where did you hear that?””
“That's not an answer.””
“It's complicated.””
I laughed bitterly.
“Everyone keeps saying that.””
“Listen to me. Your father is gone. Some things are better left—”
“Did you witness a document saying my mother gave up custody?””
He didn't respond.
“Mr. Reed?””
Finally, he spoke.
“Come to my office tomorrow morning.””
“Why?””
“Because there are things I should have told you a long time ago.””
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
My father had spent his entire life teaching me that honesty mattered.
Apparently, he had made an exception for his own son.
At eight the next morning, I dropped Jayden off at school and drove to Thomas Reed's office.
The building was old, with dark wooden doors and brass lettering.
Mr. Reed was waiting in a private conference room.
He was seventy-two, with silver hair and a walking cane.
When I entered, he stood up.
“Marcus.””
“Sit down.””
He looked surprised.
I didn't care.
I placed Eleanor's envelope on the table.
“Explain this.””
Mr. Reed opened it carefully.
The moment he saw the bank statement, his face changed.
“Where did you get these?””
“From my mother.””
He removed his glasses.
“She's alive?””
“Yes.””
He lowered himself into his chair.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he looked directly at me.
“Your mother never signed away her parental rights.””
I felt the floor shift beneath me.
“What?””
“The document you found was not a finalized custody order.””
“Then what was it?””
“A temporary agreement. It was supposed to remain in effect until a hearing.””
“Did the hearing happen?””
He shook his head.
“No.””
“Why?””
Mr. Reed rubbed his forehead.
“Your father withdrew the application.””
I leaned forward.
“Then why did my mother never get me back?””
He looked toward the window.
“Because Richard told her the hearing had resulted in a permanent order. He also told her that if she attempted to contact you, he would have her arrested for violating it.””
My hands curled into fists.
“He lied?””
“Yes.””
The word came out barely above a whisper.
I stood up.
“And you knew?””
Mr. Reed didn't look away.
“I suspected.””
“You suspected?””
“I was young. Your father was a powerful client. He paid my firm's bills. I convinced myself I was staying out of a family dispute.””
I stared at him.
“You helped him.””
“I failed your mother.””
“You helped him steal my mother from me.””
Mr. Reed bowed his head.
“Yes.””
The admission was worse than any denial.
I walked to the window and watched cars moving below.
“How much money did my father give her?””
“Nothing.””
I turned.
“Then what is this payment?””
Mr. Reed looked uncomfortable.
“I don't know. That statement wasn't part of the legal file.””
“Who received it?””
He examined the document again.
Then he pointed to a line near the bottom.
“Your mother didn't receive this money.””
“Who did?””
He tapped the name.
“Your father's company.””
I frowned.
“What does his company have to do with my mother?””
Mr. Reed removed another folder from his cabinet.
“There was a trust established shortly before your fifth birthday. Your grandfather created it for you.””
I had never heard of a trust.
“How much?””
“Initially, three hundred and fifty thousand dollars.””
My stomach tightened.
“Where is it now?””
Mr. Reed opened the folder.
“Your father was appointed trustee after your grandfather died.””
I stared at the paperwork.
“And?””
He looked up.
“The trust was liquidated over several years.””
“For what?””
He turned another page.
“That's what I was afraid you'd ask.””
The document listed several transfers.
Some went to my father's company.
Others went to a private account.
One transfer had been made to a woman named Victoria Lane.
I recognized the name.
Victoria had been my father's second wife.
The woman who married him when I was twelve.
The woman who always reminded me that I should be grateful she had accepted me.
I pointed at the page.
“Why was my father's wife receiving money from my grandfather's trust?””
Mr. Reed hesitated.
“I think you should speak to the bank.””
“Why?””
“Because the person who authorized the final transfer wasn't your father.””
I looked down.
There, at the bottom of the page, was a signature.
A signature I had never seen before.
But the printed name beneath it was unmistakable.
*Eleanor Hayes.*
I looked up sharply.
“My mother?””
Mr. Reed nodded.
“Someone used her name.””
I drove straight to Eleanor's apartment.
She opened the door before I could knock twice.
“You came back,” she whispered.
I held up the document.
“Did you ever authorize a transfer from my grandfather's trust?””
Her expression changed.
“What trust?””
I placed the paper in her hands.
She read the name.
Then her face went pale.
“No.””
“Are you sure?””
“Marcus, I never signed anything like this.””
“Then why is your name here?””
She shook her head.
“I don't know.””
I studied her face.
For the first time, I believed she might genuinely have no idea.
She sat down slowly.
“Your grandfather loved you,” she said.
“He used to tell me that one day you'd inherit his entire business.””
I frowned.
“What business?””
“Hayes Industrial.””
My father's company.
I had grown up believing it was built entirely by him.
Eleanor continued.
“Your grandfather wanted you to own it when you turned twenty-five. He wanted your mother to manage the trust until then.””
I felt a chill.
“Why didn't I know?””
“Because your father changed everything after your grandfather died.””
She covered her mouth.
“Marcus, I think he took more than my son.””
I looked at the document again.
Then my phone rang.
It was an unknown number.
I answered.
A woman's voice came through.
“Mr. Hayes?””
“Yes?””
“My name is Patricia Collins. I was your grandfather's personal secretary.””
I straightened.
“How can I help you?””
“I heard you were asking questions about the trust.””
“Who told you?””
“That doesn't matter.””
Her voice dropped.
“There's something your grandfather asked me to keep safe. Something your father never found.””
I gripped the phone.
“What is it?””
“A recording.””
“Of what?””
She paused.
“Your father's final conversation with your grandfather.””
May you like
Then she added one sentence.
“And Marcus, your grandfather knew your father was planning to get rid of your mother.””
