Chapter 3: The People Who Buried the Truth
For several seconds, Dominic didn't move.
He simply stared at the photograph.
My father, Richard Bennett, stood beside him outside the hospital entrance, one hand resting on Dominic's shoulder.
The picture had been taken on the day Dominic was discharged.
The day the doctors told us he would never hear again.
I remembered that afternoon.
My father had arrived with flowers and a bottle of expensive champagne. He had hugged me, kissed my cheek, and told Dominic that he would help us through anything.
He had even cried.
Now his face was staring back at us from Victor's phone.
"That's impossible," I whispered.
Dominic turned the screen toward me.
"Do you recognize him?""
I swallowed.
"He's my father.""
Dominic studied my expression.
"Did you know he was involved in your medical care?""
"No.""
"Did he visit the hospital after the accident?""
"Yes. But he never discussed your treatment.""
Dominic looked back at the photograph.
"Why was he standing with me when I was discharged?""
I had no answer.
My father had always been a powerful man in his own right. He owned a chain of private medical clinics and had investments in several pharmaceutical companies.
He had introduced Dominic and me at a charity auction nearly eight years earlier.
He had approved of our marriage.
He had helped finance Dominic's first major business acquisition.
And when Dominic became deaf, he had been the first person to reassure me that money and persistence would eventually solve everything.
I felt sick.
"Dominic, my father wouldn't do this.""
He didn't respond.
Instead, he opened the messages on Victor's phone.
Most were encrypted, but one conversation had been left visible.
The sender was saved under a single letter.
R.
Dominic tapped the conversation.
The most recent message read:
*R: The boy has discovered the device. You have twelve minutes to secure the original records.*
Another message appeared below it.
*V: Hale can hear again. He knows my name.*
Then:
*R: Then stop him before he remembers anything else.*
My fingers went cold.
"Who is R?""
Dominic looked at me.
"You tell me.""
I shook my head.
"I don't know.""
He placed the phone on the table.
"Call your father.""
I stared at him.
"Now?""
"Now.""
I hesitated.
Dominic's eyes narrowed.
"Eleanor, someone has been interfering with my medical treatment for three years. Your father appears in the records. We need answers.""
I took out my phone.
My hands were shaking so badly that I nearly dropped it.
I called Richard.
He answered on the second ring.
"Eleanor, sweetheart. Is everything all right?""
His voice was warm.
Normal.
The voice of the man who had taught me to ride a bicycle, walked me down the aisle, and held my son in the hospital the day Marcus was born.
I looked at Dominic.
He nodded.
"There's something I need to ask you.""
"Of course. What's wrong?""
"Why were you at the hospital when Dominic was discharged three years ago?""
Silence.
A brief pause.
Then my father laughed softly.
"Darling, what kind of question is that? I was supporting my family.""
"Why were you standing beside him?""
"Because he was my son-in-law.""
"Did you know Victor was managing his medical equipment?""
Another pause.
"Yes. Why?""
Dominic leaned closer to the phone.
I switched it to speaker.
"Richard," he said.
The line went completely silent.
My father hadn't heard Dominic speak in three years.
"Dominic?""
"Yes.""
A sharp breath came through the speaker.
"You're speaking.""
"I am.""
"How?""
Dominic lifted the small device from the table.
"Your little secret fell out of my ear.""
My father's voice changed.
Not dramatically.
Not enough for an ordinary person to notice.
But I knew him.
The warmth disappeared.
"Where is Victor?""
Dominic smiled without humor.
"That's interesting. I was about to ask you the same thing.""
"Listen to me carefully," my father said.
"You don't understand what you've uncovered.""
"Then explain it.""
"Not over the phone.""
"Why?""
"Because there are people listening.""
Dominic looked at the security chief.
"Who?""
My father exhaled.
"Come to my office tomorrow morning. Alone.""
"No.""
"Dominic, this is bigger than you think.""
"Then tell me now.""
My father lowered his voice.
"Your son was never supposed to find that device.""
I felt my stomach drop.
Dominic went completely still.
"What did you say?""
"The boy shouldn't have been near your equipment.""
Dominic stepped closer to the phone.
"Don't talk about my son.""
"Dominic, you need to understand—"
"Did you put that thing in my ear?""
A long silence followed.
Then my father said something that made my blood turn to ice.
"I didn't put it there.""
He paused.
"I paid the people who did.""
I couldn't breathe.
Dominic closed his eyes.
For the first time since hearing again, his face showed something other than anger.
Pain.
Deep, devastating pain.
"Why?"" he whispered.
My father didn't answer immediately.
When he finally spoke, his voice was almost gentle.
"Because you were going to destroy everything.""
The call disconnected.
I stared at the screen.
My husband stood motionless, holding the phone in one hand and the tiny metallic device in the other.
Marcus had fallen asleep on the conservatory sofa.
A security guard quietly covered him with a blanket.
I approached Dominic.
"Please tell me he was lying.""
Dominic looked at me.
"I don't know.""
"Richard is my father.""
"I know.""
"He loves us.""
Dominic looked down at the device.
"Does he?""
I wanted to slap him for asking.
Then I remembered the messages.
The photograph.
The way my father had reacted when he heard Dominic's voice.
And the sentence he had spoken about Marcus.
The boy shouldn't have been near your equipment.
I sank into the nearest chair.
Dominic crouched in front of me.
"Eleanor.""
I looked at him.
"Whatever this is, I didn't know.""
"I believe you.""
"Do you?""
He took my hands.
"You're my wife.""
I began crying.
He pulled me against his chest, holding me tightly.
For a few seconds, we were simply husband and wife again.
Then his phone vibrated.
A message from the security chief appeared.
*We recovered Victor's laptop from the garage. There are medical records, payment transfers, and several audio files. You need to see this immediately.*
Dominic opened the attachment.
The first file was dated three years earlier.
The day of his accident.
The second was a recording from the hospital.
The third was a video.
Dominic pressed play.
The screen showed a hospital room.
Dominic was lying unconscious in a bed.
A doctor stood beside him.
Victor was near the window.
And my father was sitting in a chair.
I covered my mouth.
The doctor adjusted a monitor and said something to Victor.
The recording was silent, but the subtitles were clear.
*Doctor: The implant is functioning. We can proceed with the suppression protocol.*
Victor nodded.
My father leaned forward.
*Richard: How long before he can no longer hear anything?*
The doctor looked at the monitor.
*Doctor: If the transmitter remains active, the auditory signals will be suppressed. He will present as profoundly deaf.*
I felt Dominic's hand tighten around mine.
Then the video continued.
My father stood and approached the hospital bed.
He looked directly at Dominic's unconscious face.
And said something that appeared in the subtitles.
*Richard: I'm sorry, Dominic. But your company was never supposed to belong to you.*
Dominic stopped breathing.
The video ended.
A new file appeared automatically.
Its title was simple.
*HEIR CONTINGENCY — MARCUS HALE.*
Dominic stared at the screen.
Then he looked toward our sleeping son.
His expression changed.
The anger disappeared.
In its place came something far more frightening.
Fear.
Because the next recording began with my father's voice.
"Once Dominic is permanently removed from the business, the next phase begins. The boy will inherit everything.""
A second voice responded.
"Do you want us to handle the child?""
My father answered without hesitation.
"No.""
He paused.
"Not yet. First, we need Eleanor to sign the guardianship papers.""
I felt Dominic's fingers go cold around mine.
Then the recording revealed the name of the person who had already signed them.
It wasn't Victor.
May you like
It wasn't my father.
It was mine.
