Chapter 7: The Blood on His Sleeve
“Marcus, look at me.””
He stood in the middle of Caleb's garage, trembling like a man who had just watched his entire life collapse.
His eyes were fixed on the flash drive in my hand.
“I didn't kill my father, Nia.””
I swallowed.
“I didn't say you did.””
“But you're thinking it.””
I couldn't answer.
Caleb moved closer to the garage door and locked it.
“Nobody leaves until we understand what's happening.””
Marcus turned toward him.
“You think I killed my own father?””
Caleb crossed his arms.
“I think you've lied to my sister enough times.””
Marcus looked at me.
“Nia, please. You know me.””
I remembered our first date.
The cheap Italian restaurant where he had spilled water on his shirt.
The afternoon he proposed.
The way he had cried when I walked down the aisle.
Then I remembered the wedding reception.
His mother standing in front of me with an empty wineglass.
And Marcus saying, She's my mother.
“I thought I knew you,” I replied.
He lowered his head.
Jasmine approached the workbench.
“We need to find out what's on that flash drive.””
Caleb nodded.
“I have an old laptop in the office.””
He disappeared through a side door.
Marcus sat down heavily.
I remained standing.
“Tell me exactly what happened that night.””
He rubbed his face.
“Mom called me around nine. She said Dad was upset and wanted to see me.””
“Where was I?””
“At home. You were waiting for me.””
I remembered that evening.
Marcus had told me he was attending a late business meeting.
He hadn't returned until after midnight.
“What happened when you arrived?””
He took a shaky breath.
“Dad was in his office. Mom was there, too. They were arguing.””
“About what?””
“The company. The accounts. I didn't understand everything.””
“What did you hear?””
Marcus stared at the floor.
“Dad said he knew about the transfers. He said someone had used his authorization to move money.””
“And your mother?””
“She kept telling him to calm down.””
“Then what?””
“Dad asked me to leave.””
I frowned.
“Why?””
“He said he needed to speak to Mom alone.””
Marcus paused.
“But before I left, Mom handed me a folder. She said Dad wanted me to take it home and keep it somewhere safe.””
“Did you open it?””
“No.””
“Why not?””
“Because I trusted her.””
I closed my eyes.
There it was again.
Trust.
The word that had allowed Diane to manipulate everyone around her.
Marcus continued.
“I walked toward the front entrance. Then I heard something fall upstairs.””
“What kind of sound?””
“Like furniture being knocked over.””
He swallowed.
“I went back.””
“And?””
“Dad was on the floor.””
My stomach tightened.
“Was he conscious?””
“Barely. Mom was kneeling beside him.””
“What did she say?””
“She told me to call an ambulance.””
I stared at him.
“Then why didn't you?””
“I did.””
He looked at me desperately.
“I called emergency services. They asked me to help him, but Mom was screaming that I should get the medication from the kitchen. I ran downstairs.””
“And the blood?””
Marcus looked at his sleeve.
“Dad had grabbed my arm when I tried to help him. I think that's where it came from.””
I felt a little relief.
But not enough.
“Why didn't you tell anyone?””
“Mom said the doctors believed it was a heart attack. She said there was no reason to make things more complicated.””
“Marcus, your father was dying.””
“I know!””
His voice echoed through the garage.
Then he covered his face.
“I know, Nia.””
Caleb returned carrying an old laptop.
“Let's see what Robert left behind.””
He plugged in the flash drive.
A folder appeared.
Inside were several audio files, scanned documents, and a video recorded by a security camera.
Jasmine leaned forward.
“Open the video.””
Caleb clicked it.
The screen showed the entrance hallway of the Hayes residence.
The timestamp read 9:47 p.m.
A woman walked into the frame.
Diane.
She was carrying a black handbag.
A few minutes later, Marcus appeared.
He entered the office hallway.
At 10:16 p.m., he left.
Then, at 10:21 p.m., another person appeared.
A man in a dark coat.
He walked directly toward Robert's office.
I leaned closer.
“Who is that?””
Marcus stared at the screen.
“I don't know.””
The man remained inside for eleven minutes.
Then he came out carrying a thick folder.
He turned toward the camera.
His face was visible.
Caleb paused the video.
Nobody spoke.
Because we all recognized him.
It was Richard Bennett.
The family attorney.
Jasmine whispered, “Oh, my God.””
Marcus stood.
“That's impossible.””
I stared at the frozen image.
Mr. Bennett had been the person helping us uncover Diane's financial misconduct.
He had also been the person who introduced me to Robert's trust.
And apparently, he had entered Robert's office after the medical emergency.
Caleb opened another file.
It contained a recording.
A man's voice spoke first.
“Richard, the documents need to disappear.””
Then Diane answered.
“I know.””
The man continued.
“And Marcus must never learn what he signed.””
My blood ran cold.
Marcus looked at the screen.
“That sounds like Bennett.””
The recording continued.
Diane whispered something.
Then the man said:
“There's another problem. Robert left something for Nia.””
Diane replied:
“Then we need to stop the wedding.””
I slowly turned toward Marcus.
The wedding.
The wine.
The forged agreement.
The inheritance.
All of it was connected.
But why had Diane been so afraid of me?
Caleb opened the final audio file.
A woman's voice emerged.
Eleanor.
“Richard, you promised me the money would be transferred before Robert changed the documents.””
Then a man answered.
“I did what I could.””
Eleanor laughed.
“Then explain why the girl is still entitled to the house.””
The recording ended.
I looked at Jasmine.
“Richard wasn't helping us.””
She shook her head.
“No. He was controlling what we discovered.””
Marcus grabbed his phone.
“We need to call the police.””
“Not yet,” I said.
He stared at me.
“What do you mean?””
“We need to preserve everything. We need independent investigators and our own lawyer. We can't trust anyone connected to your family.””
Caleb nodded.
“I'll make copies.””
Marcus looked at me.
“Nia, I swear I didn't know.””
I wanted to believe him.
But there was still one question.
“What happened to the folder you took that night?””
He hesitated.
“I brought it home.””
“Where is it?””
“I don't know.””
“You don't know?””
“I put it in the study. The next morning, it was gone.””
I stared at him.
“Did you ask your mother?””
“Yes.””
“What did she say?””
He looked away.
“She said she had taken it back.””
Before I could respond, Caleb's laptop chimed.
A new message had appeared on the screen.
It came from an unknown email address.
The subject line read:
*YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES TO DELETE THE VIDEO.*
Beneath it was a single sentence.
If you want to know who really entered Robert's office first, look at the second camera.
Caleb clicked the attachment.
A new video opened.
The timestamp was 9:12 p.m.
A person entered the house carrying a small medical bag.
The camera captured the face clearly.
It wasn't Diane.
It wasn't Richard.
It wasn't Marcus.
May you like
It was a woman I had trusted for years.
My own mother.
