Chapter 7: The Man Who Signed My Father's Death Certificate
Nobody moved.
The monitor had gone black, but Richard's voice seemed to remain inside the room.
My father stood with one hand gripping the edge of the desk. His face had lost every trace of color.
I had never seen him look so frightened.
“Dad?””
He didn't answer.
I touched his arm.
“Dad, who was that man?””
He slowly turned toward me.
“Your uncle.””
“Uncle Richard?””
He nodded.
“But you said he was overseas.””
“I believed he was.””
I looked toward the dark monitor.
“Then why was he standing beside Mom?””
My father closed his eyes.
“Because I was wrong about something.””
“What?””
He swallowed.
“I thought Richard was helping Vanessa steal the company. I never imagined he was involved in the accident itself.””
Samuel Collins leaned against the wall.
“There's something you need to understand, David.””
My father turned.
“What?””
“Richard didn't just work with your wife. He helped her build the Phoenix Collection.””
My father stared at him.
“That's impossible.””
“I saw them together several times. Amelia trusted him.””
I looked between them.
“Then why would he hurt her?””
Samuel lowered his eyes.
“Because your mother discovered what he was doing.””
Eleanor approached the desk.
“Can we recover the recording?””
Samuel nodded.
“The system stores everything locally. But this message was triggered remotely.””
He examined the equipment.
“There may be another file.””
My father looked at him.
“Find it.””
Samuel began working on the computer.
I sat down beside the desk, holding the photograph of my mother.
Three years after everyone had told me she was dead, she had been standing in a hospital.
She had been alive.
She had known about me.
She had left a message.
And somehow, someone had prevented her from coming home.
I felt a sudden wave of anger.
“Why didn't she come back for me?””
My father immediately knelt beside me.
“Nia…”
“Why?””
He took my hands.
“I don't know.””
“She could have called!””
“I know.””
“She could have sent a letter!””
“I know, sweetheart.””
I pulled my hands away.
“You both left me.””
His face crumpled.
“I know.””
I stood.
“For ten years, I thought nobody wanted me.””
My voice broke.
“I thought Mom died. I thought you died. Vanessa told me I was a burden, and I believed her because there was nobody left to tell me otherwise.””
My father rose slowly.
“I am sorry.””
I wiped my face.
“Stop saying that.””
He fell silent.
I looked at the photograph again.
Then I made a decision.
“I want to find her.””
He nodded.
“We will.””
“No. I want to find her before Richard does.””
My father looked at Eleanor.
She understood immediately.
“We need to identify that hospital.””
Samuel returned to the monitor.
“I have something.””
A file opened.
It showed a list of video recordings.
Most were dated between ten and twelve years earlier.
One was marked with a red symbol.
*AMELIA — FINAL MESSAGE — DO NOT RELEASE WITHOUT BOTH SIGNATURES.*
My father leaned forward.
“Both signatures?””
Samuel nodded.
“Your mother and yours.””
He looked at me.
“It's asking for your confirmation.””
I placed my finger against the screen.
A small red star appeared.
The video began.
My mother appeared again.
She was sitting in a room with white walls. Her face was thinner than in the old photographs, but her eyes were bright.
“Hello, my little star.””
I covered my mouth.
“If you're watching this, then the two people I love most have finally found their way back to each other.””
She smiled.
“I wish I could be there to see it.””
Her eyes moved toward someone outside the camera.
Then she continued.
“David, if you're watching this, I need you to understand that Richard was never the person you thought he was.””
My father leaned closer.
“He has been selling our designs for years. But the money was never his real objective.””
She took a breath.
“He wanted the company. All of it. And he knew that once Nia inherited the trust, he would lose everything.””
My heart began pounding.
My mother continued.
“The accident was arranged because David discovered the forged licensing agreements. Richard believed that removing him would make it easier to take control.””
She paused.
“But he made one mistake.””
My mother looked directly into the camera.
“He underestimated our daughter.””
I felt tears sliding down my cheeks.
She smiled.
“Nia, you were always stronger than you realized. Your father used to tell me that you would become a designer. I used to tell him you would become something even more important.””
She leaned closer.
“You would become someone who never allowed another person to decide what she was worth.””
The video flickered.
Then her expression became serious.
“There's a reason I left the original Phoenix Collection in the vault. One of the dresses contains the complete ownership records, including the original company trust and the names of everyone who participated in the fraud.””
My father looked toward the display case.
“The dress,” he whispered.
My mother nodded in the recording.
“Find the silver key. It opens the final cabinet. But be careful. Richard knows the records exist.””
She looked away.
A noise came from somewhere behind her.
Her expression changed.
“Someone is here.””
She turned back toward the camera.
“Nia, if you ever see your uncle, don't trust anything he tells you.””
The recording suddenly stopped.
A new file opened automatically.
It was a hospital photograph.
My mother stood beside a window.
A woman in a white uniform was holding a clipboard.
Behind them, on the wall, was a hospital logo.
*ST. MARY'S PRIVATE RECOVERY CENTER.*
Eleanor immediately searched the name.
“There are two facilities with that name.””
My father shook his head.
“Only one handled private recovery patients ten years ago.””
He gave her an address.
Eleanor looked at the map.
Then her phone rang.
She answered.
“Hello?””
A few seconds passed.
Her expression changed.
“What do you mean?””
My father stood.
“What happened?””
Eleanor ended the call.
“Someone just attempted to access the hospital's archived patient records.””
“Who?””
“The request came through an account registered to Richard Carter.””
My father grabbed his coat.
“We're going.””
Eleanor blocked his path.
“Not without security.””
He looked at her.
“Eleanor, my wife is somewhere in that hospital's records.””
“And if Richard knows you are searching for her, he may already be there.””
I stepped forward.
“Then we shouldn't waste another minute.””
My father looked at me.
For a moment, I saw the little girl he remembered.
Then he nodded.
“Stay close.””
We reached St. Mary's shortly before sunset.
The building stood on the edge of a quiet residential district.
Its front entrance was surrounded by trees, and the windows were dark.
A receptionist sat behind the desk.
Eleanor approached first.
“We're looking for archived records concerning a patient named Amelia Carter.””
The receptionist frowned.
“I'm afraid I can't release medical information.””
Eleanor placed a legal document on the counter.
“We have authorization to review records connected to an ongoing investigation.””
The receptionist examined it.
Then she picked up the phone.
A few minutes later, an older administrator came downstairs.
He introduced himself as Dr. Howard Bennett.
When he heard my mother's name, his expression changed.
“Amelia Carter?””
My father stepped forward.
“You remember her?””
The doctor studied him.
Then his mouth fell open.
“David?””
My father nodded.
The doctor looked as though he might collapse.
“Good Lord.””
He glanced toward the receptionist.
“Close the front desk. Please.””
He led us into his office.
Once the door was shut, he opened a locked cabinet.
“I was told never to discuss this patient.””
My father gripped the back of a chair.
“Is she alive?””
Dr. Bennett hesitated.
Then he placed a thin medical file on the desk.
“Mrs. Carter was admitted under a different name ten years ago. She remained here for several months.””
“Where is she now?””
“I don't know.””
My father stared at him.
“What do you mean?””
“She was discharged into the care of a private medical organization.””
“Which organization?””
The doctor turned a page.
Then he went completely silent.
Eleanor leaned closer.
“What is it?””
Dr. Bennett looked up.
“The discharge authorization was signed by Richard Carter.””
My father closed his eyes.
And I understood something terrible.
My uncle hadn't merely known where my mother was.
He had personally arranged what happened to her after the accident.
Before anyone could ask another question, the doctor's office phone rang.
He answered.
“Yes?””
His face changed.
He slowly lowered the receiver.
“There's someone in the lobby asking for you.””
My father stood.
“Who?””
May you like
The doctor looked directly at him.
“Your wife.””
