Chapter 4: The Father Who Was Never Buried
Marcus stared at the hospital record as if the words might rearrange themselves into something less impossible.
“Alive?”” he whispered.
Eleanor gripped her cane.
“Yes, Marcus.””
“My father died six years ago.””
“No. His funeral was six years ago. Those are not necessarily the same thing.””
Daniel suddenly stopped struggling against the security guards.
“Mother, you're making a terrible mistake.””
Eleanor turned toward him.
“Am I? Then explain why your father's medical records show a pulse three days after his supposed funeral.””
Marcus looked at his brother.
“Daniel, what is she talking about?””
His younger brother shook his head.
“This is exactly why I didn't want Mother coming tonight. She's been obsessed with Dad's death for years.””
“Then let's discuss the hospital,” Marcus replied.
Daniel's jaw tightened.
“Not here.””
“Why not?””
“Because three hundred people are watching!””
Marcus glanced around the ballroom.
“Good. Maybe someone will finally hear the truth.””
He turned to the head of security.
“Lock the ballroom doors. Nobody leaves until the police arrive.””
Vanessa immediately protested.
“You cannot imprison your guests!””
“I'm not imprisoning anyone. I'm asking everyone to remain available as witnesses.””
She approached him, lowering her voice.
“Marcus, sweetheart, think about what you're doing. This woman has manipulated your mother, your son, and now you.””
Marcus looked at her engagement ring.
“Take it off.””
Vanessa blinked.
“What?””
“The ring. Take it off.””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“After everything we've been through?””
“It's my wife's ring.””
Vanessa slowly removed it.
But instead of handing it to him, she closed her fist around the diamond.
“You don't understand,” she whispered.
“I sacrificed everything for you.””
Marcus's voice became cold.
“What exactly did you sacrifice?””
She looked toward Daniel.
He immediately looked away.
That was when Eleanor spoke again.
“Your father left instructions. The recording is in his study, inside the old grandfather clock. The key will open the hidden compartment.””
Marcus examined the silver key.
“Then we're going there.””
“I'll come,” I said.
Vanessa laughed.
“Of course you will. You've been waiting for this moment, haven't you?””
I looked at her.
“I've been waiting five years to hold my son again. I never wanted this.””
Noah reached for my hand.
“Mommy, are we going to find Grandpa?””
I knelt.
“Yes, sweetheart.””
“Will he know me?””
I kissed his forehead.
“He will now.””
Marcus arranged for two guards to accompany us. Eleanor insisted on coming, despite the pain in her knees.
Daniel and Vanessa were escorted separately.
The private study was on the hotel's executive floor, inside a suite reserved for the Blackwood family.
It was a room I had cleaned countless times without realizing that my own life had been hidden inside it.
Dark walnut bookshelves lined the walls. A fireplace stood beneath an enormous portrait of Richard Blackwood.
Marcus approached the grandfather clock.
His fingers trembled as he inserted the key.
A small click sounded.
The wooden panel opened.
Inside was a black metal box.
Eleanor covered her mouth.
“It's still here.””
Marcus lifted it onto the desk.
There was a cassette recorder, several photographs, and a thick envelope bearing his father's handwriting.
To my son Marcus. Open only when Danielle returns.
Marcus stared at the envelope.
“Dad knew.””
He opened it.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
He read the first paragraph aloud.
“Marcus, if you are reading this, then the woman you believed dead has finally returned. I failed to protect her once. I will not let my silence destroy her again.””
His voice cracked.
He continued.
“Your brother Daniel has been working with Vanessa Monroe. They discovered financial irregularities in the company and believed Danielle had uncovered the evidence.””
Marcus stopped.
“Financial irregularities?””
Eleanor nodded.
“Your father suspected Daniel had been stealing from the company.””
Marcus looked at the photographs.
One showed Daniel entering a private clinic.
Another showed Vanessa speaking to a man outside the hospital where I had been admitted.
Then he found a third photograph.
It showed Richard Blackwood sitting in a wheelchair.
Alive.
The photograph was dated two years earlier.
Marcus gripped the edge of the desk.
“Where is he?””
Eleanor pointed to the back of the photograph.
An address had been written in blue ink.
A private rehabilitation center outside Savannah.
Marcus immediately called his attorney.
“Get a medical team there. Confirm whether Richard Blackwood is a patient. And don't alert anyone connected to Daniel.””
A moment later, his phone rang.
He answered.
“Yes?””
His expression changed.
“What do you mean the facility has no patient by that name?””
He listened.
Then slowly lowered the phone.
“What happened?”” I asked.
Marcus looked at the photograph again.
“The facility closed six months ago.””
Eleanor began trembling.
“No…”
Marcus turned to the security supervisor.
“Find out where the patients were transferred.””
The supervisor made a call.
Thirty seconds passed.
Then another.
Finally, he turned toward Marcus.
“Sir, there's something you need to know.””
“What?””
“The facility's records show that one patient was transferred to a private residence under an alias.””
“Whose residence?””
The supervisor swallowed.
“Daniel Blackwood's.””
Nobody spoke.
Marcus looked toward the closed study door.
His own brother had been hiding their father.
But why?
And if Richard was alive, what had he been trying to tell Danielle before the accident?
Then Marcus's phone rang again.
This time, the caller ID showed an unknown number.
He answered.
A weak, elderly voice came through.
“Marcus?””
Marcus froze.
“Dad?””
“Son, listen carefully. Don't trust Daniel.””
Marcus grabbed the phone with both hands.
“Dad! Where are you?””
The voice whispered something that made Eleanor collapse into the nearest chair.
May you like
“I'm in the house where they buried your mother.””
Then the call ended.
