Chapter 9: My Mother's Last Recording
Nobody moved.
The recording continued.
My mother's voice was shaking.
"You're wrong. Father left that money to his grandson. It's written in the will.""
Margaret laughed bitterly.
"Father left it to the family. You just decided Marcus deserved everything.""
"He was his only grandson.""
"And I'm his daughter!""
There was a loud noise.
Something hit a table.
Then my mother spoke again.
"Daniel, tell her the truth.""
A man's voice entered the recording.
"I think we should stop this.""
Margaret snapped.
"Stay out of it!""
My mother's breathing became faster.
"You both stole from him. You used his identity. You moved the money through accounts he doesn't even know exist.""
Margaret replied coldly.
"Marcus will never know.""
"He deserves to know.""
"He's eleven years old. What is he going to do?""
My mother's voice became firmer.
"Arthur will find out.""
A brief silence followed.
Then Margaret said something I would never forget.
"Arthur is a mechanic with no money and no influence. He won't do anything.""
My mother answered immediately.
"You don't know my husband.""
I felt tears gathering in my eyes.
Even in that moment, she believed in Dad.
Then Margaret spoke again.
"You're going to sign the transfer documents.""
"No.""
"You're going to sign them, Eleanor.""
"I won't.""
A chair scraped across the floor.
Then a sharp sound.
The recording became distorted.
Detective Mills turned up the volume.
My mother's voice returned.
"Don't touch me!""
Then another voice.
Daniel.
"Margaret, stop!""
The recording ended abruptly.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
I looked at the detective.
"Can you recover the rest?""
"We'll have audio specialists examine it.""
Daniel sat motionless.
His face was pale.
I turned toward him.
"Was that the conversation before the accident?""
He nodded.
"Yes.""
"Where was it recorded?""
"At Margaret's house.""
"Why did you have it?""
"Margaret sent it to me after Eleanor died. She wanted me to understand that she had evidence against me if I ever tried to expose her.""
I stared at him.
"So she was threatening you with the recording?""
"Yes.""
Detective Mills disconnected the USB drive.
"We need the original file and the email trail. Mr. Cross, you're coming with us.""
Daniel didn't resist.
But before the officers escorted him out, he turned toward me.
"Marcus, I know you hate me.""
I said nothing.
"I deserve it. But your mother wasn't trying to protect the money for herself. She was trying to protect you.""
I looked at him.
"Then why didn't you protect her?""
He lowered his eyes.
"I was a coward.""
The officers took him away.
Detective Mills remained with me.
"Your aunt needs to be located immediately.""
"Do you know where she is?""
"We're working on it.""
I thought about the messages.
The person watching us.
The warning to stop searching for Margaret.
"She's been following us.""
Detective Mills nodded.
"We'll review the surveillance footage around your home and the hotel.""
Then she looked at me.
"There's another issue. Your wife's complaint against your father.""
"What about it?""
"She has submitted photographs showing bruises on her arms. She claims Arthur caused them.""
I felt my jaw tighten.
"Those are fake.""
"We'll investigate. But we also need to establish when and where the photographs were taken.""
I remembered the recording.
Vanessa had slapped herself and torn her dress.
She was capable of staging injuries.
But I wasn't going to make assumptions.
"Do whatever you need to do," I said.
Detective Mills nodded.
"We'll also need you to avoid contacting her.""
I agreed.
But as I left the hotel, I received a call from Daniel Price.
"Marcus, where are you?""
"Leaving a meeting with the police. What's wrong?""
"Someone is trying to transfer ownership of the company's main equipment yard.""
I stopped walking.
"What?""
"The documents were submitted this morning. The application claims you're incapacitated and that Vanessa has authority to act for you.""
I closed my eyes.
"Can you stop it?""
"I'm trying. But the application includes a medical certificate.""
"The fake one?""
"Yes. And there's another document attached.""
"What document?""
Daniel hesitated.
"An amended company ownership agreement.""
I gripped my phone.
"Who signed it?""
"Your father.""
I stared at the street.
"That's impossible.""
"The signature matches the old contract.""
I looked toward Detective Mills.
"Send everything to her.""
"Already done.""
I ended the call.
Something wasn't right.
The old agreement had been forged.
The medical certificate was fake.
And someone was using my father's name again.
I returned to the police station.
Detective Mills was reviewing the documents when I arrived.
She enlarged the signature.
"Mr. Bennett, do you recognize this?""
I shook my head.
"It's supposed to be my father's.""
"Is it?""
I studied it.
The signature looked almost identical to his.
But the final stroke was wrong.
"Someone copied it.""
Detective Mills nodded.
"That's our concern.""
She opened another attachment.
It was a notarized statement claiming my father had voluntarily transferred his financial interest in the company to Vanessa.
Dad had never owned shares.
He had never asked for shares.
And he certainly hadn't transferred them.
I felt anger building.
"She's trying to take the company while I'm fighting the inheritance case.""
"Possibly.""
Then Detective Mills received a call.
She listened for nearly a minute.
When she hung up, she looked at me.
"We found Margaret Hale.""
My heart began pounding.
"Where?""
"At a private residence outside the city.""
"Is she under arrest?""
"Not yet. We need to question her.""
I stood.
"I'm coming.""
"Mr. Bennett, you should stay here.""
"She's my aunt. She knows what happened to my mother.""
Detective Mills considered it.
Then she nodded.
"You can come, but you will not approach her without my permission.""
We drove to a quiet residential street.
The house was large, surrounded by tall trees and a high iron fence.
A black sedan was parked in the driveway.
I recognized the license plate from the photograph in my mother's old files.
Detective Mills knocked.
A woman in her late sixties opened the door.
Her hair was silver.
Her face was thin.
But her eyes were unmistakable.
I had seen them in the photograph.
Margaret.
She looked at Detective Mills.
Then she looked at me.
For a moment, her expression softened.
"Marcus.""
I stepped forward.
"Do you remember me?""
She nodded.
"Of course I do.""
"Then tell me why you disappeared after my mother died.""
Her eyes moved toward the detective.
"I think you should come inside.""
Detective Mills refused.
"We'll speak here.""
Margaret sighed.
Then she looked at me.
"Your mother was a difficult woman, Marcus. She made choices that hurt people.""
I felt my blood boil.
"She was trying to protect my inheritance.""
Margaret's face hardened.
"She was trying to control everything.""
"Did you cause the accident?""
She looked away.
"That's a terrible accusation.""
"Did you?""
She stepped closer.
"Your father told you I was involved, didn't he?""
I said nothing.
Margaret smiled sadly.
"Arthur has spent twenty-five years blaming everyone except himself.""
My chest tightened.
"What does that mean?""
She looked directly into my eyes.
"Your father was there that night, Marcus.""
I felt the ground disappear beneath me.
"No.""
"Yes.""
"That's a lie.""
Margaret shook her head.
"Ask him why he told the police he was home alone when your mother died.""
I stared at her.
Dad had never mentioned being anywhere near the accident.
Detective Mills stepped forward.
"Mrs. Hale, you're coming with us.""
Margaret didn't resist.
But as the officers approached, she turned toward me.
"Before you destroy your family, Marcus, ask your father why your mother was trying to leave him.""
I couldn't move.
Then she added one final sentence.
"Because the man who raised you wasn't the only person your mother was afraid of.""
My phone vibrated.
A message from Dad.
Son, I need you to come home. There's something I haven't told you.
A second message arrived.
It contained an old photograph.
My mother.
Standing beside my father.
And behind them was a hospital entrance.
On the back, someone had written:
The night Marcus was born.
I looked up at Detective Mills.
Then back at Margaret.
She was watching me with a strange expression.
Not anger.
Not fear.
Pity.
May you like
And suddenly, I wondered whether the greatest secret in my family had nothing to do with money.
It had to do with who I really was.
