Chapter 8: The Documents in My Father's Office
I hadn't entered my father's old office since the day we buried him.
The building still carried his name.
HAYES INDUSTRIAL.
Silver letters stretched across the front of the glass tower, reflecting the morning sunlight.
I parked outside and looked up.
For thirty years, I had believed that building represented everything my father had achieved.
Now I wondered how much of it had been built with money stolen from me.
The receptionist recognized me immediately.
“Mr. Hayes! It's wonderful to see you.””
“Is the executive floor still accessible?””
“Of course.””
She smiled.
“Would you like me to inform Mrs. Hayes?””
I paused.
“Victoria is here?””
“She arrived about an hour ago.””
I forced a smile.
“Thank you.””
Then I took the elevator upstairs.
My father's office was at the end of a long hallway.
The door was slightly open.
I heard papers moving inside.
Then Victoria's voice.
“No, I told you to destroy the old copies.””
A man's voice responded.
“They're not all here.””
“Then find them.””
I pushed the door open.
Victoria turned.
Her face lost all color.
“Marcus.””
I looked at the man beside her.
He was holding a cardboard box filled with folders.
“What's going on?””
Victoria straightened her blouse.
“I'm handling some old company matters.””
“By destroying documents?””
The man quickly placed the box on the desk.
Victoria glared at him.
“Leave us.””
He hesitated.
“Now!””
He walked past me without making eye contact.
I closed the door.
“What's in the box?””
“Nothing that concerns you.””
I stepped toward the desk.
“Everything in this office concerns me.””
Victoria laughed.
“You're thirty years old, Marcus. You can't walk in here and start making demands because you found a few old papers.””
I opened the box.
Inside were bank statements, contracts, and photocopies of my birth certificate.
I picked up one document.
My name appeared at the top.
Below it was a signature.
It looked like mine.
But I had never signed it.
“What is this?””
Victoria reached for the paper.
I pulled it away.
“Don't touch that.””
She sighed.
“It's a routine business authorization.””
“I was twelve.””
“You were a beneficiary.””
“I was a child!””
My voice echoed through the office.
Victoria stepped backward.
I examined the document.
It authorized the transfer of shares from a family trust to a private company.
The date was clear.
I had been twelve years old.
And the receiving company was registered under Victoria's name.
I looked at her.
“You stole my shares.””
“I managed your assets.””
“You transferred them to yourself.””
“Richard approved everything.””
“Did I?””
She folded her arms.
“You have no idea how much your father sacrificed.””
I placed the document on the desk.
“Did he sacrifice Daniel Mercer too?””
Victoria froze.
I watched her carefully.
“You know he's alive, don't you?””
Her expression changed.
“Who told you that?””
I smiled coldly.
“Thank you.””
She realized her mistake.
“Marcus, listen—”
“No. You listen.””
I leaned forward.
“My biological father is alive. He was threatened. My mother was falsely accused.
My grandfather's will disappeared. Millions of dollars were transferred through accounts connected to you.””
Victoria's mouth tightened.
“You don't know what you're talking about.””
“Then why are you destroying these documents?””
She said nothing.
I picked up the cardboard box.
“I'm taking these.””
“You can't!””
“Watch me.””
I turned toward the door.
Victoria suddenly grabbed my arm.
“You have no idea what you're risking!””
I pulled free.
“What exactly am I risking?””
She stared at me.
Then she whispered:
“Your son.””
Everything inside me went still.
“What?””
Victoria looked toward the door.
“Richard made mistakes. But he understood that some secrets needed to stay buried.””
I stepped closer.
“Don't you ever mention Jayden.””
“I'm trying to protect him.””
“From what?””
She opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
I took out my phone.
“I'm calling the police.””
Her face changed immediately.
“Don't be stupid, Marcus.””
I dialed.
But before the call connected, she spoke again.
“Your father wasn't the only one who signed those documents.””
I stopped.
“Who else?””
Victoria looked directly at me.
“You did.””
I stared at her.
“I was twelve.””
“You signed the authorization papers.””
“I couldn't have.””
She reached into a drawer and pulled out another folder.
Inside was a school registration form bearing my signature.
Then she placed a second document beside it.
It was a financial authorization.
The handwriting looked almost identical.
I felt sick.
“What is this?””
“Your father told you to sign a stack of papers when you were young. You thought they were school documents.””
I remembered.
At twelve, my father had placed a thick pile of paperwork in front of me and told me it was necessary for a family business arrangement.
I had signed wherever he pointed.
I had trusted him.
Victoria watched my face.
“He used your signature because the trust was in your name. You were the legal beneficiary. Your father wanted the money, but he needed your authorization.””
I looked at the document.
“Were those signatures forged?””
She hesitated.
Then she whispered, “Some were. Some weren't.””
I left the building with the box.
Before reaching my car, I called Jonathan Pierce.
“I found the documents.””
“Good.””
“Victoria says my father had me sign financial papers when I was twelve.””
Jonathan sighed.
“That's exactly what I was afraid of.””
“Can he legally do that?””
“Not without proper authorization and safeguards. But that's not the worst part.””
“What?””
“Your father created a second company using your name. It was registered as Marcus Hayes Holdings.””
I stopped walking.
“Why?””
“To receive money from the original trust.””
“Where did that money go?””
Jonathan's answer was immediate.
“Offshore accounts.””
I gripped the phone.
“How much?””
“Approximately six million dollars.””
My legs felt weak.
“Six million?””
“That's what I found.””
I looked back at the building.
My father hadn't simply stolen my inheritance.
He had built an entire financial structure using my identity.
“Can you prove it?””
“I have the original contracts.””
“Then I'm coming to Chicago.””
Jonathan lowered his voice.
“Marcus, don't come alone.””
“Why?””
“Because yesterday someone broke into my storage unit.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Did they take anything?””
“Not the documents.””
“Then what?””
He paused.
“A photograph.””
“What photograph?””
“The one showing your father, Victoria, and Daniel Mercer together.””
My heart began pounding.
“When was it taken?””
“Three months before you were born.””
I stared at the parking lot.
My father had told me Daniel was dead.
Victoria had helped erase him.
But they had all been together before I was born.
“Jonathan,” I said, “what were they doing together?””
His answer was barely audible.
“They were discussing who would raise you.””
That evening, I returned home and found Jayden sitting on the living room floor.
He was building a tower with toy blocks.
“Dad!””
I smiled and placed the box on the table.
“Hey, buddy.””
He ran toward me.
“Grandma Eleanor called.””
“What did she say?””
“She wants to know if she can come to my school concert.””
I knelt.
“Of course she can.””
Jayden grinned.
Then he noticed the box.
“What's that?””
“Some old papers.””
He looked at the folders.
“Are those secrets?””
I laughed softly.
“Something like that.””
He became serious.
“Dad, Grandma said you used to have a toy truck when you were little.””
I nodded.
“I did.””
“She said you cried when it broke.””
I smiled.
“She remembers everything.””
Jayden sat beside me.
“Will you tell me stories about when you were little?””
I looked at my son.
For the first time, I realized how easily children inherit the stories adults tell them.
And how dangerous those stories can become when they're lies.
“Yeah, buddy. I will.””
My phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number appeared.
*You need to stop digging into your father's past.*
Another message arrived.
*Ask your mother what she promised Victoria in exchange for keeping you.*
I stared at the screen.
Then a photograph appeared.
It showed Eleanor standing outside a hospital room.
Beside her was Victoria.
The date was printed underneath.
June 14, 1996.
The night my grandfather died.
May you like
And beneath the photograph was one final message.
*Your mother didn't just know about the money. She made a deal.*
