Chapter 6: The Doctor Who Changed My Father's Death Certificate
Dr. Stephen Morgan agreed to meet me at 4:30 p.m.
His private clinic stood in a quiet Atlanta neighborhood, surrounded by expensive houses and carefully maintained gardens.
I arrived with Robert and two security officers.
The receptionist led us into a consultation room.
Dr. Morgan was waiting beside a large window.
He was in his late sixties now, with silver hair and a thin face. But his eyes were unmistakable.
He had attended my father's funeral.
He had shaken my hand and told me my father had died peacefully.
"James," he said, standing up.
"It's been a long time.""
I didn't shake his hand.
"Do you remember my father?""
"Of course.""
"Do you remember the night he died?""
His smile disappeared.
"Yes.""
"Then I'd like you to explain something.""
I placed the audio recording on the table.
He listened without interrupting.
When Michael's voice mentioned the hospital, Dr. Morgan lowered his head.
"Where did you get this?""
"That's not important.""
"James, some things are better left alone.""
I stared at him.
"That's exactly what someone said to my father eighteen years ago, isn't it?""
He looked up sharply.
I placed the original letter on the table.
"My father knew about Edward Grant. He knew someone wanted the property agreement. And he told someone to contact you if anything happened to him.""
Dr. Morgan slowly sat down.
"Your father was a good man.""
"Then tell me the truth.""
He rubbed his forehead.
"Your father came to see me two days before he died. He was frightened.""
"Of what?""
"He believed someone had been entering his office after hours. He also said certain business documents had disappeared.""
I leaned forward.
"Did he mention Edward Grant?""
"Yes.""
"What happened the night he died?""
Dr. Morgan looked toward the door.
Then he spoke quietly.
"Your father didn't die at home.""
My entire body went rigid.
"What?""
"He was brought to the hospital shortly after midnight. He had suffered a severe cardiac event.""
"Why does the death certificate say he died at home?""
Dr. Morgan closed his eyes.
"Because the official report was altered.""
I felt the room spin.
"Who altered it?""
He didn't answer.
"Dr. Morgan.""
He finally looked at me.
"Edward Grant came to the hospital that night.""
I stood up.
"Why?""
"He said your father had been involved in a business dispute. He claimed there would be legal consequences if certain information became public.""
"That's not an answer.""
Dr. Morgan swallowed.
"Edward offered money.""
I stared at him.
"How much?""
"Two hundred thousand dollars.""
The room went silent.
I gripped the back of a chair.
"You took it?""
He nodded slowly.
"I was young. I had debts. He said nobody would be hurt.""
"Nobody would be hurt?""
My voice rose.
"My father died, and you helped cover it up!""
Dr. Morgan flinched.
"He was already critically ill when he arrived. I didn't cause his condition.""
"But you changed the records.""
"Yes.""
"Why?""
"Because Edward told me your father's death was connected to a fraudulent business transaction. He said the family would be protected if I cooperated.""
I stared at him.
"And Michael?""
Dr. Morgan looked down.
"Michael was there.""
My hands tightened.
"How old was he?""
"About twenty-five.""
I remembered Michael at twenty-five.
He had been working in my father's office.
He had been helping me understand the business.
He had attended the funeral and stood beside me while I cried.
"Did Michael know what happened?""
Dr. Morgan nodded.
"He was the one who brought Edward to the hospital.""
I couldn't speak.
For years, Michael had allowed me to believe he was the friend who helped me survive my father's death.
But he had been there.
He knew.
He had watched me grieve.
And then he had built a fortune beside me.
"Did my father leave anything else?"" I asked.
Dr. Morgan hesitated.
"Yes.""
"What?""
"A sealed envelope. He asked me to give it to you if anyone ever came asking about the property agreement.""
"Where is it?""
"I gave it to Margaret Ellis.""
I looked at the letter on the table.
"Margaret is dead.""
"Her office might still have it.""
I slowly sat down.
Then Dr. Morgan reached into his desk drawer.
He removed a small photograph.
It showed my father lying in a hospital bed.
Michael stood beside him.
Edward Grant was near the window.
And a third person was standing at the foot of the bed.
A woman.
I recognized her immediately.
Vanessa.
But that was impossible.
She had told me she'd never met my father.
I took the photograph with trembling fingers.
"Why is Vanessa here?""
Dr. Morgan looked genuinely uncomfortable.
"Because she wasn't a stranger to your family, James.""
"What does that mean?""
He leaned closer.
"Your father discovered something about Vanessa shortly before his death.""
I stared at him.
"Something about what?""
Dr. Morgan took a deep breath.
"Her connection to Edward Grant.""
Before I could ask another question, the clinic's receptionist rushed into the room.
"Doctor, I'm sorry, but there's someone outside asking for Mr. Carter.""
Robert immediately stood.
"Who?""
The receptionist looked frightened.
"He says his name is Michael Grant.""
My blood ran cold.
"Did you let him in?""
"No. But he said he has something Mr. Carter needs to see.""
Robert moved toward the door.
I stopped him.
"What does he have?""
The receptionist looked at me.
"A document.""
"What document?""
She swallowed.
"He says it's your father's original death certificate.""
I turned toward Dr. Morgan.
His face had gone completely white.
Then Michael's voice came through the hallway.
"James! I know you're in there!""
He knocked twice.
"Before you hear another lie, you should know something.""
A second later, he slid a photograph beneath the consultation room door.
I picked it up.
It showed my father holding a newborn baby.
On the back, someone had written a date.
The date was twenty-eight years earlier.
And beneath it were four words that destroyed everything I thought I knew:
*YOUR FATHER'S SECOND FAMILY.*
I looked at Dr. Morgan.
He couldn't meet my eyes.
Outside, Michael knocked again.
"Open the door, James.""
May you like
Then he said the one thing I wasn't prepared to hear.
"That baby wasn't you.""
