Chapter 5: The Witness Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
I didn't sleep that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my mother's handwriting.
He knows what happened the night I died.
I had spent years believing my mother's death was a terrible accident.
She had been driving home from a business meeting when her car left the road during heavy rain.
The police report described the incident as a loss of control.
No other vehicle was involved.
No suspicious circumstances were identified.
I was fourteen.
Dad told me the details once, then refused to discuss them again.
Whenever I asked questions, he would say the same thing.
"Your mother wouldn't want you remembering her that way.""
I had believed him.
Now I wasn't sure what I believed.
At seven the next morning, I called Daniel.
"I need to see the original accident report.""
He sounded exhausted.
"I was expecting you to ask.""
"Can you get it?""
"I've already requested the archived file. But there may be restrictions because the incident is several years old.""
"Then find another way.""
"Maya, we need to be careful.""
"Everyone keeps telling me that. Meanwhile, my family has been using my mother's company like a private bank.""
He sighed.
"I understand. I'll call you when I have something.""
I hung up.
Then I opened my laptop and searched Thomas Reed.
There were very few results.
A photograph from an old business conference.
A short company biography.
And a newspaper obituary.
Thomas Reed.
Former financial director of Bennett Atelier.
Died at fifty-six.
Survived by no immediate family.
The obituary was dated four years earlier.
I enlarged the photograph.
The man had gray hair, a narrow face, and glasses.
I studied it carefully.
Then I noticed something in the background.
My mother.
She was standing beside him at a company event.
And behind them was a young man holding a camera.
I recognized him immediately.
The showcase photographer.
The same man whose signature appeared on Vanessa's false declaration.
I sat back.
What was he doing at an event involving my mother's company?
At noon, Daniel called.
"I found something.""
I grabbed my coat.
"What?""
"The death certificate for Thomas Reed appears legitimate, but the obituary was published by a private funeral service. There is no public burial record.""
"Does that mean he isn't dead?""
"Not necessarily. But I found an address associated with his former business registration.""
"Where?""
"An apartment building in Queens.""
"I'll go.""
"Maya, don't go alone.""
"Then come with me.""
He hesitated.
"Give me twenty minutes.""
We arrived at a modest apartment building just after two.
The lobby smelled of old carpet and furniture polish.
Daniel spoke to the building manager, showing him a photograph of Thomas.
The man studied it.
Then frowned.
"That fellow?""
"Yes," Daniel replied.
"Do you recognize him?""
The manager rubbed his chin.
"He lives upstairs. Apartment 5C.""
I stepped forward.
"He's alive?""
The manager shrugged.
"I see him every week.""
My heart began pounding.
Daniel looked at me.
"Let's take this slowly.""
We climbed the stairs.
The fifth-floor corridor was narrow and quiet.
Daniel knocked three times.
No answer.
He knocked again.
A voice came from inside.
"Who is it?""
"Thomas Reed?""
Silence.
Then footsteps.
The door opened a few inches.
An elderly man peered through the gap.
His glasses were crooked.
His face was thinner than in the photograph.
But it was him.
Thomas Reed.
The man everyone believed was dead.
He stared at Daniel.
Then his eyes moved to me.
And his expression changed.
"You're Claire's daughter.""
I nodded.
"Yes.""
He opened the door wider.
"Come in.""
The apartment was small but tidy.
Books lined the walls.
A kettle sat on the kitchen counter.
Several old photographs were arranged on a shelf.
One showed my mother standing beside Thomas at a company celebration.
Another showed them with my father.
I looked at it.
"How long have you known my family?""
Thomas poured tea.
"Since before you were born.""
He placed a cup in front of me.
"Your mother and I built Bennett Atelier together.""
"Daniel says you were the financial director.""
"I was.""
"Then why did your name appear on the documents transferring the company?""
Thomas looked down.
"Because someone forged my signature.""
Daniel leaned forward.
"Do you have evidence?""
Thomas nodded slowly.
"I kept copies.""
He walked toward a cabinet and opened a drawer.
From beneath a stack of old newspapers, he removed a thick envelope.
Inside were financial statements, company correspondence, and handwritten notes.
He spread them across the table.
"Your mother discovered that money was disappearing from the company accounts shortly before she died.""
I stared at him.
"How much?""
"Initially, small amounts. Five thousand here. Twelve thousand there. Then larger transfers.""
"Who was responsible?""
Thomas looked toward the photograph on the shelf.
"Your stepmother.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Eleanor?""
"She was working as an administrative consultant at the time. Your father introduced her to the company.""
"Why?""
"Because Richard believed she was good with numbers.""
Thomas gave a bitter smile.
"She was.""
He showed me a ledger.
Several payments had been made to a company called Northstar Creative Holdings.
The same company that appeared in the sponsorship documents.
"Your mother confronted Eleanor," he continued.
"She discovered that Eleanor had created a separate business using the atelier's designs and supplier relationships.""
"Did Dad know?""
Thomas hesitated.
"At first, I don't believe he did.""
"At first?""
He nodded.
"Your father found out eventually. But by then, he had become financially involved.""
I looked at the ledger.
"Why didn't you go to the police?""
Thomas's face changed.
"Because I was threatened.""
"By Eleanor?""
"By Richard.""
I stared at him.
Thomas continued.
"Your father told me that if I exposed the transactions, he would make sure I never saw my daughter again.""
Daniel interrupted.
"You have a daughter?""
Thomas nodded.
"She was nineteen at the time. She had just started university.""
He looked down at his hands.
"I believed him. I was afraid.""
"Where is she now?""
"She lives in Seattle. We haven't spoken in years.""
The room became quiet.
I thought about how many lives Eleanor had damaged to protect her secret.
Then I looked at Thomas.
"Why did everyone believe you were dead?""
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he walked to another cabinet and retrieved a newspaper clipping.
It described a fire at a storage facility four years earlier.
One person had reportedly died.
Thomas pointed to the article.
"That was the night I disappeared.""
I looked at him.
"You faked your death?""
"Not exactly. Someone made sure the authorities believed I was the person who died.""
Daniel leaned forward.
"Do you know who?""
Thomas looked at me.
"Your father.""
I felt the room tilt.
Thomas slid another document across the table.
It was a handwritten note.
The writing was unmistakably my father's.
The matter has been resolved. No further contact is necessary.
I touched the paper.
"Why did he do this?""
Thomas looked exhausted.
"Because your mother had discovered the truth.""
"What truth?""
He hesitated.
Then he opened a small metal box.
Inside was a USB drive.
"This contains the original financial records, the company registration documents, and a recording of a meeting between your mother, your father, and Eleanor.""
Daniel picked up the drive.
"Is it authenticated?""
"Yes. I made two copies. One stayed with my solicitor. The other stayed with me.""
"Where is the solicitor?""
Thomas looked away.
"He died last year.""
Daniel frowned.
"How?""
"Heart attack, according to the report.""
I looked at the USB drive.
"What's on the recording?""
Thomas's face became grim.
"Your mother discovered that Eleanor had been stealing money. She intended to report it.""
"And Dad?""
"He asked her to wait.""
"Why?""
Thomas looked directly at me.
"Because he was already involved.""
I felt my throat tighten.
Thomas reached into the box again and removed a photograph.
It showed my mother standing beside a black car.
The date printed on the back was two days before her death.
I turned it over.
There was a handwritten note.
If anything happens to me, Maya must never be left in Richard's care.
I stared at the words.
"Why would she write that?""
Thomas looked toward the window.
"Because she was afraid.""
"Of my father?""
"Of what he was willing to do.""
Daniel took the USB drive and promised to have the contents examined professionally.
Before we left, Thomas stopped me at the door.
"There's something else.""
I turned.
He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small envelope.
It was yellowed with age.
My name was written across the front.
*Maya.*
The handwriting was my mother's.
My fingers trembled.
"Where did you get this?""
"Your mother gave it to me shortly before she died. She told me to keep it until you were old enough to understand.""
I opened the envelope carefully.
Inside was a photograph of me as a little girl, sitting on my mother's lap.
On the back, she had written:
My beautiful Maya. Never let anyone convince you that you are less than what you are.
I swallowed.
There was another sheet of paper.
A short letter.
If you are reading this, Thomas has finally found a way to reach you.
I need you to know that your father was not always the man you believe him to be.
I loved him once. I trusted him completely.
But he made a decision that changed everything.
The letter ended abruptly.
There was no signature.
No explanation.
Just one final sentence.
Ask him what happened to the original blueprints.
I looked up.
"Original blueprints?""
Thomas nodded.
"Your mother designed something shortly before she died.""
"What?""
"A collection of dresses and accessories she intended to launch under her own name. It was called The Blue Hour.""
I had never heard of it.
"Where are the designs?""
Thomas hesitated.
"Your father has them.""
We returned to Daniel's office late that afternoon.
He had already started examining the USB drive.
I sat across from him while he opened the first folder.
There were financial spreadsheets, company letters, and scanned documents.
Then he found a video file.
The recording date was eight months before my mother's death.
Daniel clicked play.
The screen showed my mother's old office.
She sat behind her desk.
Eleanor stood near the window.
My father sat opposite her.
My mother looked angry.
"I know about the transfers, Eleanor.""
My stepmother folded her arms.
"You don't understand the business arrangements.""
"I understand perfectly. You've been using my company's designs to fund your own operation.""
Dad leaned forward.
"Claire, please. Let's discuss this calmly.""
My mother turned toward him.
"You knew?""
He didn't answer.
She stood.
"Richard, look at me.""
He raised his eyes.
"How long?""
Dad rubbed his forehead.
"Six months.""
My mother looked devastated.
"You let her steal from me for six months?""
"She was trying to protect the company.""
"By emptying it?""
Eleanor stepped forward.
"Don't be dramatic.""
My mother slammed a folder onto the desk.
"These are the original records. I've sent copies to my solicitor.""
Dad stood.
"You didn't.""
"I did.""
His face changed.
Then he said something that made Daniel pause the recording.
"Claire, if you go through with this, you will destroy everything.""
My mother stared at him.
"No, Richard. You already did.""
The video continued.
Eleanor approached the desk.
"Then perhaps we should discuss what happens to Maya.""
My mother went still.
"What about my daughter?""
Eleanor smiled.
"Children are easily influenced. Especially when one parent isn't around to explain things.""
My mother stepped toward her.
"Don't you dare.""
Dad moved between them.
And then the recording ended.
I sat motionless.
Daniel slowly closed the laptop.
"There's more," he said.
He opened another file.
It contained an audio recording from the same day.
My mother's voice was clearer.
She was speaking to someone on the telephone.
"I don't care what Richard says. The company belongs to Maya. If anything happens to me, you must make sure she gets everything.""
A man's voice replied.
"Claire, are you sure you're safe?""
My mother answered:
"No.""
Then there was a sound.
A door opening.
And my father's voice.
"Who are you talking to?""
The recording ended.
I looked at Daniel.
"Can you identify the other person?""
He shook his head.
"Not yet.""
My phone rang.
Dad.
I let it ring twice before answering.
"Maya, where are you?""
"Why?""
"Come home. Now.""
"What's happened?""
He breathed heavily.
"Someone broke into the house.""
My stomach tightened.
"Did they take anything?""
A pause.
Then he said:
"The original blueprints are gone.""
I looked at Daniel.
He had heard every word.
Dad continued.
"And Maya, there's something you need to know.""
"What?""
His voice cracked.
"Your mother didn't die in an accident.""
The room went silent.
I gripped the phone.
"What did you say?""
"I think someone has finally found the evidence.""
"Evidence of what?""
May you like
He whispered:
"That Eleanor was the last person who saw your mother alive.""
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