Chapter 10: The Dead Man Who Was Still Alive
Grayson read the name three times.
Then he looked at Martin.
"That's impossible.""
Martin removed his glasses.
"I agree. But the laboratory's preliminary report is quite specific.""
I reached for the paper.
The name printed beneath the genetic profile made my fingers go numb.
ROBERT BENNETT.
My father.
The man who had supposedly died seven years earlier.
The man whose funeral I had attended.
The man whose ashes I had watched being lowered into a family memorial garden.
I looked at Martin.
"Are you telling me my father is alive?""
"Not necessarily. I'm telling you that the genetic sample used in this test matches a biological sample attributed to your father.""
Margaret suddenly sat down.
Her face had lost all color.
Grayson noticed.
"Margaret?""
She didn't respond.
"Margaret, look at me.""
My mother stared at the laboratory report.
Then she whispered, "This cannot be happening.""
I stepped toward her.
"What do you know?""
She shook her head.
"Nothing.""
"Don't lie to me again.""
"I said I know nothing!""
Her voice echoed through the nearly empty ballroom.
Martin calmly placed the report inside a transparent folder.
"The laboratory has requested additional samples before issuing a final conclusion. However, there's another detail.""
He showed us the sample collection date.
It was dated four months ago.
Four months.
My father had supposedly been dead for seven years.
Grayson looked at the document.
"Where did the sample come from?""
Martin checked the accompanying note.
"An independent medical facility in Boston.""
Daniel frowned.
"Could someone have used an old medical sample?""
"That's possible," Martin replied.
"But the accompanying records indicate that the sample was collected from a living patient.""
I looked at my mother.
She was trembling.
"Mom, did you know?""
She covered her mouth.
For a moment, I thought she might faint.
Then she looked at me and said something I would never forget.
"Your father was never supposed to come back.""
The room went silent.
I felt my heart pounding.
"What does that mean?""
Margaret stood abruptly.
"Nothing. I didn't mean it that way.""
I moved closer.
"Where is my father?""
She grabbed her purse.
"Claire, we need to leave.""
"No.""
"Please. Not here.""
"WHERE IS HE?""
She looked at me with tears in her eyes.
Then she whispered an address.
A private rehabilitation facility outside Boston.
I stared at her.
"Why would my father be in a rehabilitation facility?""
"Because he was injured.""
"Seven years ago?""
Margaret nodded.
"He suffered a serious accident shortly before his supposed death.""
I couldn't process the words.
"Supposed death?""
My mother looked down.
"I was told he wouldn't recover.""
"Who told you?""
She didn't answer.
Grayson stepped forward.
"Margaret, who arranged the funeral?""
My mother closed her eyes.
"Richard Hale.""
Grayson looked as though someone had punched him.
"My father?""
"He said Robert had suffered a catastrophic injury. He said the doctors believed he wouldn't survive. He arranged everything.""
Martin immediately picked up his phone.
"Margaret, I need the facility's name and the patient's current status.""
She reluctantly gave him the information.
Martin stepped away to make the call.
Meanwhile, I stood motionless.
My father might be alive.
For seven years, I'd visited his grave on his birthday. I'd spoken to his photograph when life became difficult. I'd spent holidays missing his laugh.
And now my mother was telling me that the man I'd mourned might have been living in another state.
Grayson gently touched my shoulder.
"Claire.""
I stepped away.
"Don't.""
"I didn't know.""
I looked at him.
"Your father arranged the funeral. Your father controlled the company. Your father funded the fertility agreement. How much did you really know about your own family?""
He didn't answer.
Daniel suddenly spoke.
"I remember something.""
Everyone turned.
"When Dad died, I was in London. I came home for the funeral, but I never saw the body.""
Grayson frowned.
"What?""
"They said the casket was sealed because of the injuries.""
My mother nodded.
"That's what Richard told everyone.""
Daniel shook his head.
"I thought it was strange, but I was twenty-three. I didn't question it.""
Grayson looked at Martin.
"Find out whether the facility has a patient registered under Robert Bennett.""
Martin returned several minutes later.
His expression told me everything.
"They have a patient.""
I grabbed the edge of the table.
"Is it my father?""
"The administrator confirmed that a patient using your father's full name has been receiving long-term treatment there.""
"Why didn't anyone tell me?""
"Because the patient was admitted under a restricted confidentiality arrangement.""
My mother began crying.
Martin continued.
"There's a complication. The patient requested that no family members be contacted.""
I stared at him.
"Can I visit?""
Martin hesitated.
"That depends on whether he's capable of making that decision.""
I looked at Grayson.
"I'm going to Boston.""
He nodded.
"I'll come with you.""
"No. I need to do this myself.""
My phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
One message.
Claire, if you're going to Boston, don't trust the woman who arranged your father's funeral.
A second message appeared.
And don't let Grayson see the original accident report.
I slowly raised my eyes.
Grayson was watching me.
"Who sent that?""
I turned the phone around.
He read the message.
Then his face changed.
Because beneath the warning was an attachment.
A photograph of a hospital admission form.
And beside the emergency contact number was a name I recognized.
May you like
Grayson Hale.
My husband.
