Chapter 5: Six Days Before He Died
I stared at the photograph until my eyes began to hurt.
My father.
Marcus.
Daniel Whitmore.
All sitting together at a restaurant.
Six days before my father's funeral.
I zoomed in.
My father was wearing the navy suit I had bought him for his sixty-second birthday. Marcus sat beside him, leaning forward with one hand resting on the table.
Daniel was holding a document.
The date printed beneath the photograph was unmistakable.
I looked up.
“Why were you meeting my father?””
Marcus didn't answer.
“Marcus!””
He turned toward me.
“Your father wanted to discuss a business opportunity.””
“What business opportunity?””
“Something involving property investments.””
“My father never discussed investments with you.””
“He did.””
“Why didn't he tell me?””
Marcus laughed without humor.
“Because he didn't tell you everything, Lauren.””
I felt my throat tighten.
For years, I had believed my father and I had no secrets.
He was the person I called whenever something went wrong. When my first business failed, he helped me rebuild. When I bought my first car, he sat beside me in the dealership and negotiated until the salesman practically begged us to leave.
He had never made me feel foolish for asking questions.
And now Marcus was telling me there had been an entire part of his life I knew nothing about.
I showed him the photograph.
“Who sent this?””
“How should I know?””
“Someone who knows what happened to my father.””
Marcus looked at the screen.
Then he walked toward the kitchen.
“I'm getting a drink.””
“Don't walk away from me.””
He stopped.
“You want answers? Fine. Your father was involved in a property development deal. He needed investors, and Daniel had connections.””
“Was my father in debt?””
Marcus hesitated.
“He was having financial difficulties.””
“How much?””
“I don't know.””
“Did you lend him money?””
Marcus looked at me.
“No.””
I watched his expression.
“Did you take money from him?””
He said nothing.
The silence was unbearable.
I sat on the edge of the living room sofa.
“Marcus, my father trusted you.””
“I know.””
“He welcomed you into our family.””
“I know.””
“He called you his son.””
Marcus looked down.
For one brief moment, I thought I saw shame.
Then he said something that made my stomach turn.
“Your father wasn't the innocent man you think he was.””
I stood.
“Don't you dare.””
“He made promises he couldn't keep.””
“He was my father.””
“And I was the one who had to deal with the consequences!””
His voice cracked.
I stared at him.
“What consequences?””
He walked toward the fireplace, rubbing his jaw.
“Your father had invested in a development project with Daniel. The project failed. There were creditors, legal threats, and people demanding their money back.””
“Why would you be involved?””
“Because your father asked me to help.””
I shook my head.
“Help him how?””
“By finding another investor.””
“And did you?””
He didn't answer.
Instead, he looked toward the staircase.
“Where are you going?”” I asked.
“To get my things.””
“You aren't taking that briefcase.””
He turned sharply.
“That's mine.””
“Then you can tell me what's inside it before you leave.””
“It's personal.””
I walked toward the security panel.
“I can have the police here in five minutes.””
He stared at me.
Then he laughed.
“You really think I'm afraid of the police?””
“No. I think you're afraid of what's inside that briefcase.””
His expression hardened.
I opened the security app on my phone and checked the activity report.
There were dozens of entries.
Some were ordinary door openings.
Others were not.
Three months earlier, Marcus had accessed my office at 2:14 a.m.
Again at 3:07 a.m. two days later.
And again the following week.
I had been asleep upstairs during every one of those entries.
I opened the activity details.
The system had recorded the use of a second administrator credential.
Daniel Whitmore.
My hands began to shake.
“You've been entering my office at night.””
Marcus glanced at the screen.
“It's my house too.””
“No, it isn't.””
“Three years, Lauren! I lived here!””
“Living here doesn't make you the owner.””
He stepped closer.
“You wouldn't have any of this without me.””
I stared at him.
That was when I realized how deeply he believed his own lies.
He had confused being loved with being entitled.
I opened the drawer beneath my desk and found the small notebook where I recorded important account information.
Several pages had been torn out.
My father's handwriting was visible on the inside cover.
I flipped through the remaining pages.
A sentence had been written in blue ink.
If anything happens to me, make sure Lauren never signs anything connected to Whitmore.
My breath caught.
I read it again.
The handwriting was unmistakably my father's.
I turned the notebook toward Marcus.
“Have you seen this?””
His face went pale.
“Where did you get that?””
“It's my notebook.””
“No, it isn't.””
I looked at him.
“Why does it mention Whitmore?””
He reached for the notebook.
I pulled it away.
“Don't.””
He lowered his voice.
“Lauren, there are things you don't understand.””
“Then explain them.””
“Your father was going to lose everything.””
“Was that why he died?””
The question slipped out before I could stop it.
Marcus froze.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he whispered, “I didn't kill your father.””
I felt the room tilt.
I hadn't accused him of murder.
I hadn't even said the word.
He had introduced it himself.
I backed away.
“Why would you say that?””
Marcus swallowed.
“Because I know what you're thinking.””
“No, Marcus. I don't think you understand what I'm thinking.””
I reached for my phone and called David.
He answered immediately.
“Lauren?””
“I found something my father wrote. He specifically mentioned Daniel Whitmore.””
“Read it to me.””
I did.
David went silent.
Then he said, “Lauren, listen carefully. Your father came to my office two days before he died. He was frightened.””
My grip tightened around the phone.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because he asked me not to alarm you until I could verify something.””
“What something?””
“Your father believed someone had been using his signature to move assets out of the family trust.””
I looked at Marcus.
He was staring at me.
David continued.
“And he told me that if anything happened to him, I should look for a sealed envelope in his old office.””
I swallowed.
“What was inside?””
“I don't know. I never found it.””
I closed my eyes.
“David, where is my father's old office?””
“His former business headquarters. The building was sold after his death, but the storage unit attached to his office was never transferred.””
I stood straighter.
“Does anyone else know about it?””
“Only me and your father.””
A cold voice interrupted from behind me.
“That's not true.””
I turned.
Marcus was standing in the doorway.
May you like
His eyes were fixed on the phone.
“Daniel knows about the storage unit too.””
