Chapter 7: The Betrayal Buried for Twenty-Five Years
"Your aunt Margaret brought me the documents.""
My father's confession hung in the room.
Detective Mills pulled a chair closer to him.
"Mr. Bennett, I need you to explain exactly what happened.""
Dad stared at the wooden box.
"Three days after Eleanor's funeral, Margaret came to my house. She said she had spoken to the family lawyer. She told me there were several documents that needed my signature before the inheritance could be transferred into a protected account for Marcus.""
"Did you read them?"" Detective Mills asked.
"Not properly. I was barely functioning. I'd just buried my wife, and I was trying to raise an eleven-year-old boy alone.""
His voice cracked.
"Margaret told me everything had already been arranged. She said the papers were routine.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"And you signed them?""
He nodded.
"Yes.""
"What exactly did they transfer?""
"I didn't know until years later. The documents transferred control of Eleanor's estate to a company managed by Daniel Cross.""
I stared at him.
"You signed away my mother's money?""
Dad closed his eyes.
"I thought I was protecting it.""
I stepped backward.
For a moment, I couldn't look at him.
My father had sacrificed everything for me. He'd worked through injuries, skipped meals, and worn an old winter coat for eight years so I could have a better life.
But now I was learning that he'd signed away an inheritance worth millions.
"Why didn't you investigate?""
"I did.""
"When?""
"About six months after the funeral. I contacted the lawyer. He told me the paperwork had been processed and there was nothing I could do.""
"Did you believe him?""
"No. But I couldn't afford another legal battle, and I didn't know where the money had gone.""
Detective Mills interrupted.
"Who was the lawyer?""
"Peter Holloway.""
She wrote the name down.
"Is he still practicing?""
"I don't know.""
I walked toward the window.
My head was pounding.
"All these years, Dad, you let me believe there was nothing left from Mom.""
He stood.
"Marcus, I was ashamed.""
I turned around.
"Of what?""
"Of being fooled. Of failing your mother. Of signing something that should never have been put in front of me.""
His eyes filled.
"I promised her I'd protect you.""
I looked at the photograph in my hand.
For twenty-five years, he'd carried that guilt alone.
And for the second time in two days, I realized how badly I'd failed to understand him.
I approached him.
"I'm angry," I admitted.
"But I'm not going to hit you. I'm not going to turn away from you.""
He nodded.
"I understand.""
I put a hand on his shoulder.
"We're going to find out what happened.""
Detective Mills cleared her throat.
"Before we proceed, I want to make one thing clear. We cannot assume Margaret, Daniel, or Vanessa committed every act we've discussed. We need to establish the connections through evidence.""
She photographed the original papers and arranged for them to be preserved.
Then she asked me to retrieve every document connected to my marriage, the company, and the inheritance.
I opened the wooden box again.
At the very bottom was a small notebook.
It belonged to my mother.
The cover was worn, and several pages had been torn out.
I flipped through it carefully.
Most entries were ordinary.
Grocery lists.
Appointments.
Notes about my school.
Then I reached a page dated eleven days before the accident.
Daniel called again. He says the money is safe, but the statements don't match. Margaret insists I should stop asking questions. I can't trust either of them.
My hands tightened around the notebook.
Another entry appeared three days later.
I found Marcus's name on another account. Why would someone use my son's identity? I need to speak to Arthur before it's too late.
Then the final entry.
I think Margaret knows what Daniel is planning.
I looked up.
"Detective, you need to see this.""
She read the page.
Her expression became serious.
"These entries could be important. We'll need to preserve the notebook.""
I handed it over.
Then I noticed a small folded piece of paper tucked inside the back cover.
It contained a telephone number.
And underneath it, my mother had written:
If anything happens, call this person. He knows the truth about the accident.
The name beside the number was Samuel Reed.
Dad frowned.
"Sam Reed?""
"You know him?"" I asked.
"He was the police officer who handled your mother's accident.""
Detective Mills immediately photographed the note.
"Do you know where he is now?""
"Retired, I think.""
She made a call.
While she spoke, I walked into the hallway.
My phone vibrated.
A message from Vanessa.
I need to see you. Alone. I can explain everything.
I stared at it.
Then another message arrived.
Your father isn't innocent, Marcus. Ask him what happened to the original accident report.
I turned toward Dad.
He was standing near the stairs, looking at an old photograph.
"What's the original accident report?"" I asked.
He slowly lowered the picture.
"The police gave me a copy after your mother's death.""
"Where is it?""
"I kept it in a safe at the old repair shop.""
"Do you still have it?""
He nodded.
"Yes.""
"Why didn't you tell the detective?""
Dad looked uncomfortable.
"Because there's something in that report I never understood.""
"What?""
He hesitated.
Then he answered.
"Your mother's car had stopped before the collision.""
I stared at him.
"Stopped?""
"According to the report, the engine was off. The headlights were on, and the driver's door was slightly open.""
Detective Mills had finished her call.
She walked toward us.
"Mr. Bennett, I need to hear that again.""
Dad repeated himself.
She immediately wrote it down.
"That detail could be significant. We'll need the original report and any related photographs.""
I turned toward my father.
"Let's get it.""
We were preparing to leave when the detective's phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
Then her expression changed.
"What do you mean he's already there?""
She looked at me.
"Mr. Bennett, stay here.""
"What's happened?""
She covered the phone.
"Your wife is at the police station.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Why?""
Detective Mills listened again.
Then she lowered the phone.
"She's filed a complaint against your father.""
My mouth went dry.
"What kind of complaint?""
"She alleges he assaulted her twice, threatened her, and has been stalking her.""
I stared at her.
"But we have the recording!""
"She claims the recording was manipulated.""
I felt anger rising.
Then I remembered the camera footage.
The slap.
The torn dress.
The lie.
"She's trying to reverse everything.""
Detective Mills nodded.
"Possibly. We'll review her statement and compare it with the evidence.""
Then she added something that made my blood run cold.
"She also claims your father threatened to kill her if she ever revealed what happened to your mother.""
I turned toward Dad.
He looked devastated.
"That's a lie," he whispered.
I believed him.
But before I could respond, Detective Mills received another notification.
She read it twice.
Then she looked at us.
"There's been a development.""
"What?""
"The man who contacted your father six months ago has just checked into a hotel under his real name.""
"Daniel Cross?""
She nodded.
"And he requested a meeting with Marcus Bennett.""
My phone vibrated again.
This time, the message contained a hotel address.
May you like
Underneath it were seven words:
Bring the original will. Come alone.
