Chapter 5 - THE MAFIA BOSS'S MOTHER KNEW EVERYTHING
Alexander Moretti went pale when I showed him the hospital form.
"My mother signed this?"
I nodded.
"Three months after my father's funeral."
He studied the paper.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he reached for his phone.
"Marcus, find everything you can about my mother's medical records from that year."
I looked at him.
"You said she died ten years ago."
"She did."
"Then she could have known where my father was."
Alexander nodded slowly.
"Yes."
I watched his face.
He looked genuinely devastated.
"My mother spent the last years of her life trying to distance herself from my father's business," he said.
"She ran a free medical clinic. She helped people who couldn't afford treatment."
I looked at the signature again.
"Maybe she helped my father."
"Maybe."
His voice softened.
"She would have."
For the first time, I saw Alexander as something other than a frightening businessman.
He was a son remembering his mother.
A man who had lost someone he loved.
And perhaps someone who had been lied to for years.
Marcus arrived an hour later carrying a folder.
"Boss, we found something."
Alexander looked up.
"What?"
"Your mother's clinic received a large anonymous donation the year Jonathan Carter disappeared."
"How large?"
"Two million dollars."
I stared.
"From whom?"
Marcus opened the next page.
"An offshore account connected to Richard Hayes."
Alexander's expression hardened.
"That doesn't make sense."
Marcus nodded.
"There's more."
He placed another document on the table.
A list of patients admitted under assumed names.
One name stood out.
Daniel Reed.
Male.
Forty-seven years old.
Transferred after severe burns and traumatic injuries.
The photograph attached to the file made my heart stop.
My father.
Older.
Injured.
But unmistakably alive.
I covered my mouth.
"That's him."
Alexander looked at me.
"Emily..."
I began crying.
For years, I'd believed my father died in that warehouse.
Now I was staring at proof he'd survived.
But there was another detail.
The patient had been discharged six years earlier.
Three years before my mother died.
I looked at Marcus.
"Where did he go?"
Marcus hesitated.
"The destination is classified in the surviving records."
"Classified?"
"The clinic transferred him under a private protective arrangement."
Alexander leaned forward.
"Who authorized it?"
Marcus turned the page.
Then his expression changed.
"Boss..."
"What?"
Marcus swallowed.
"The authorization was signed by Richard Hayes."
I felt sick.
The man who tried to kill my father had somehow gained control of his medical care.
Then Marcus opened one final document.
A psychiatric evaluation dated five years earlier.
The report described a patient who repeatedly insisted he had a daughter named Emily.
The evaluator had marked the claims as delusional.
I stared at the final line.
Patient continues requesting contact with Emily Carter despite repeated assurances that she is deceased.
My knees weakened.
My father had spent years believing I was dead.
Then I saw the name of the psychiatrist who signed the report.
Dr. Derek Hayes.
May you like
My husband.
The man I'd married three years ago had personally helped convince my father that I no longer existed.
