Chapter 8: The Doctor's Missing Records
My mother tried to take the photograph.
I stepped backward.
“No.””
“Marcus, give that to me.””
“Why? What else have you been hiding?””
She reached for the paper again.
Daniel caught her wrist.
“Enough, Evelyn.””
She pulled away.
“You have no idea what you're doing!””
“Then explain it!”” Daniel shouted.
Noah began crying.
I immediately turned toward him.
“Hey, buddy. Come here.””
He ran into my arms.
I carried him into the kitchen, away from the shouting.
Behind me, Vanessa whispered something to Ethan.
The little boy looked frightened.
I sat Noah on a chair and gave him a glass of water.
“Are you okay?””
He nodded.
“Are you and Mommy getting divorced?””
The question hit harder than anything my mother had said.
I knelt beside him.
“Why would you ask that?””
“Because Mommy was crying upstairs. And Grandma said everyone was going to have a new family.””
I closed my eyes.
“Noah, listen to me. None of this is your fault. Do you understand?””
He nodded.
“Are you still my daddy?””
I held his little hands.
“Always.””
He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around my neck.
For six years, I had been his father.
A piece of paper could change his biological history.
It couldn't erase six years of bedtime stories, scraped knees, school lunches, and whispered promises.
When I returned to the living room, Daniel was pacing.
My mother sat motionless.
Vanessa was holding Ethan.
I placed the photograph on the table.
“Tell us about Peter Lawson.””
My mother stared at it.
“He was the doctor who delivered the babies.””
“Was he involved in changing their identities?””
“Yes.””
“Did he know about the trust?””
“He knew everything.””
Daniel slammed his hand against the table.
“Then why did he lie to us at the hospital?””
My mother looked up.
“Because he was paid to.””
“By whom?””
She hesitated.
Then she whispered, “Your father.””
I stared.
“My father died seventeen years ago.””
“I know.””
“Then how could he have arranged something that happened six years ago?””
My mother looked toward the hallway.
“Because Robert left instructions.””
She explained that before his death, my father had created a private medical arrangement for Ethan.
He had also instructed Peter to maintain confidential records concerning the children of his second family.
The purpose, according to my mother, was to protect their identities until the trust became active.
But after Robert died, someone altered those instructions.
Someone had changed the intended guardians.
Someone had redirected the trust documents.
And Peter had continued following the new instructions.
“Who changed them?”” I asked.
My mother looked at Daniel.
“Your father's attorney.””
Daniel frowned.
“Which attorney?””
“Richard Bennett.””
The name meant something to me.
Richard had handled my father's estate.
He had attended the funeral.
He had helped my mother settle the paperwork.
He had even been at my wedding.
“Where is he now?””
My mother shook her head.
“He died last year.””
I laughed without humor.
“Convenient.””
Daniel pulled out his phone.
“I can contact his former office.””
“Do it.””
He stepped outside.
My mother finally looked at me.
“Marcus, there's another reason I brought Ethan here.””
I folded my arms.
“What?””
She reached into her handbag and pulled out a small medical envelope.
“Ethan needs surgery.””
I looked at the child.
He was sitting beside Vanessa, quietly turning a toy car over in his hands.
“What kind of surgery?””
“His heart condition has worsened.””
I felt a knot form in my stomach.
“Why didn't you tell anyone?””
“Because the medical fund was frozen.””
“Why?””
She looked at the floor.
“Because someone withdrew the money.””
I stared.
“How much?””
“Almost two million dollars.””
I couldn't speak.
My mother had already admitted to six hundred thousand in withdrawals.
Now she was telling me another two million had disappeared.
“Who took it?””
She shook her head.
“I don't know.””
I pointed toward the photograph.
“Then why did you bring Ethan here?””
“Because the trust can only be reopened when all three children are identified.””
I looked at her.
“And you need my help.””
“Yes.””
I laughed.
“You want me to save the trust after everything you've done?””
“I want you to save Ethan.””
That silenced me.
The little boy looked up.
“Am I sick?””
Nobody answered.
My mother began crying.
I walked over and crouched beside him.
“Ethan, sometimes people's hearts need a little help from doctors. That's all.””
He nodded.
“Grandma says I have a broken heart.””
I swallowed.
“We'll find someone who can help you.””
Then my phone vibrated.
Daniel had sent me a message.
Found something in Richard Bennett's old office archive.
There was an attachment.
I opened it.
It was a scanned email dated six years earlier.
The sender was Richard Bennett.
The recipient was Peter Lawson.
The subject line read:
*FINAL INSTRUCTIONS — OCTOBER 14.*
I began reading.
Proceed with the identification changes as discussed. The Williams family must remain unaware of the third child's placement until the trust administrator receives the original beneficiary declaration.
I scrolled down.
The final paragraph made my blood run cold.
Payment has been received from the person who requested the arrangement. Do not contact Evelyn Williams directly again.
I looked at my mother.
“Who requested the arrangement?””
She stared at the screen.
“I don't know.””
But her expression told me she was lying.
I showed her the email.
She began shaking.
Then I noticed the sender's signature.
Richard Bennett.
And the person copied on the email was listed as:
*Marcus Williams.*
My name.
My email address.
My account.
I looked at my mother.
“I never received this.””
She whispered, “I know.””
I stared at her.
“Then who sent it?””
Before she could answer, Daniel rushed back into the room.
He was holding his phone.
“Marcus, I found the original email server records.””
He placed the phone on the table.
The message had been sent from my account.
But the login location was listed as my childhood home.
The timestamp was 2:14 a.m.
May you like
And according to the records, the person who accessed my account that night was not Richard Bennett.
It was my mother.
