Chapter 5: The Last Message From My Father
The wedding suite suddenly felt too small.
I looked at Patricia.
She was standing beside the vanity, her hands clasped tightly around her handbag.
Marcus had moved toward the window.
Vanessa was quietly trying to leave.
I wanted to scream at all of them.
Instead, I spoke into the phone.
"Mr. Reeves, where is the video?""
"Room 1806.""
I glanced at the receipt still lying on the vanity.
The same room where Marcus had been photographed kissing Claire.
"The presidential suite?""
"Yes. Your father checked into that room seven years ago under a different name. He left a storage device in the room's maintenance compartment.""
I looked at Claire.
She nodded slowly.
"Why would the video still be there?""
"Because the hotel manager was instructed to preserve it. He retired recently, but he contacted me after discovering that someone had requested access to the room's old maintenance records.""
"Who?""
"Patricia Hale.""
I looked up.
Patricia was staring at me.
I ended the call.
"Room 1806," I said.
Marcus turned.
"What?""
"My father left something there.""
His expression changed.
Patricia grabbed his arm.
"Marcus, we need to go.""
Claire stepped in front of the door.
"You're not going anywhere.""
Patricia glared at her.
"Move.""
"No.""
Marcus looked at me.
"Nia, please. You don't need to get involved in this.""
I stared at him.
"My father died seven years ago. You lied about his death. You lied about your sister.
You planned to take my inheritance. And now you're telling me not to get involved?""
He rubbed his jaw.
"You don't understand.""
"Then explain it.""
He looked toward his mother.
Patricia shook her head almost imperceptibly.
That tiny movement told me everything.
He was still waiting for permission.
Even now.
I picked up my mother's handbag.
"Mom, we're leaving.""
Evelyn nodded.
Claire followed us.
Vanessa suddenly spoke.
"Wait.""
I stopped.
She was crying now, her mascara running down her cheeks.
"I can explain.""
I turned.
"Explain what?""
"Patricia told me your mother had been spreading things about me. She said Evelyn wanted to get me fired from the wedding.""
My mother stared at her.
"I had never met you before today.""
Vanessa lowered her head.
"I know that now.""
"Then why did you do it?""
Vanessa looked toward Patricia.
"She offered me money.""
"How much?""
"Twenty-five thousand dollars.""
My mother closed her eyes.
Vanessa continued.
"She said I only had to embarrass you. She wanted everyone to think you were difficult and unstable. She said Marcus would handle the rest.""
I felt sick.
"What did she mean by handle the rest?""
Vanessa hesitated.
"She said you would eventually apologize to him. That your mother would be removed from the wedding arrangements, and you'd sign the financial documents without interference.""
Claire stepped forward.
"Did she mention anything about Nia's father?""
Vanessa looked confused.
"No.""
"Did you hear Patricia discussing the accident?""
Vanessa shook her head.
"I don't know anything about that.""
I studied her face.
She looked frightened.
But fear didn't erase what she'd done.
"You hurt my mother for money," I said.
Vanessa began sobbing.
"I know.""
"Then you can explain everything to the police.""
I turned away.
We left the bridal suite.
The hallway was crowded with guests.
Some wore expensive suits. Others held champagne glasses and small gift bags.
They had no idea the wedding had already collapsed.
My aunt spotted us.
"Nia! There you are!""
She hurried over, smiling.
"Everyone is waiting downstairs. The photographer wants to take some family pictures before the ceremony.""
Her smile disappeared when she saw my mother's hair.
"Oh, Evelyn. What happened?""
My mother tried to speak.
I answered for her.
"The wedding is canceled.""
My aunt blinked.
"What?""
"Marcus lied to me. His family has been hiding something about my father's death.""
She looked at me as if I'd spoken another language.
"Sweetheart, perhaps we should discuss this somewhere private.""
"No. I'm done protecting their reputation.""
A few guests had begun turning toward us.
I didn't care.
My aunt took my mother's hand.
"Come with me, Evelyn.""
We walked toward the elevators.
Behind us, Marcus called my name.
"Nia!""
I didn't turn.
He called again.
"You're making a mistake!""
The elevator doors opened.
I stepped inside.
And then I heard his voice change.
"If you go to that room, you'll destroy more than this wedding!""
I pressed the button.
The doors closed between us.
For the first time in four years, I felt relieved not to see his face.
Room 1806 was on the eighteenth floor.
The hotel manager, a silver-haired man named Thomas, was waiting near the service elevator.
He held a small key.
"Miss Bennett?""
"Yes.""
He glanced at Claire.
"You're her sister?""
"Not quite," Claire replied.
"But close enough.""
Thomas nodded.
"I've been expecting you.""
He led us down a quiet corridor.
The presidential suite door was already unlocked.
Inside, the gold curtains were drawn. The blue painting still hung above the bed.
I recognized the room immediately.
The same room from the photograph.
I walked toward the painting.
"Is it behind this?""
Thomas shook his head.
"Your father asked me to place it somewhere nobody would think to look.""
He crossed the room and knelt beside a wooden cabinet.
Behind a removable panel was a small metal compartment.
He opened it with the key.
Inside lay a black envelope.
My name was written across it.
My father's handwriting.
I reached for it.
My mother placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Take your time, sweetheart.""
I opened the envelope.
There was a small flash drive and a handwritten note.
My dearest Nia,
If this reaches you, then I was right to be afraid.
Please don't trust anyone who tells you my death was an accident without showing you the original evidence.
The truth is on this drive.
But there's something you must understand first.
The person who betrayed me wasn't the person who wanted me dead.
I read the final line again.
Then I looked at Claire.
"What does that mean?""
She shook her head.
"I don't know.""
Thomas cleared his throat.
"There's a laptop in the cabinet. Your father asked me to keep it with the recording.""
He brought it over.
I inserted the drive.
A video appeared.
The date was seven years earlier.
My father sat in this very room.
He looked tired.
His shirt collar was open, and a small cut marked his forehead.
He leaned toward the camera.
"Nia, sweetheart. If you're watching this, I need you to listen carefully.""
I covered my mouth.
It was his voice.
The voice I'd spent seven years trying not to forget.
"I found the missing money. Marcus has been moving company funds, but he's not acting alone.""
He paused.
"Patricia is protecting him.""
My mother gripped my hand.
Then my father looked directly into the camera.
"But the person who arranged the transfers is someone I trusted long before I met the Hale family.""
The screen flickered.
He reached for a piece of paper.
And then he said a name.
A name that made my mother suddenly step backward.
Because it was the name of the man who had raised me after my father died.
May you like
My uncle.
Robert Bennett.
