Chapter 5 - WHAT MY FATHER HAD BEEN HIDING
My father didn't knock.
He stood outside the glass door holding an old leather briefcase.
When I opened the door, he looked exhausted.
“Can I come in?”
I stepped aside.
Ethan was already waiting in the living room.
Dad looked at both of us.
“I owe you the truth.”
“You've owed us the truth for years,” Ethan said.
Dad lowered his eyes.
He placed the briefcase on the table.
Then he opened it.
Inside were documents older than any of us.
Birth records.
Business agreements.
Photographs.
And one envelope marked:
EDWARD WHITMORE — CONFIDENTIAL.
I stared at him.
“What's this?”
“Your grandfather's final instructions.”
“You said he never left anything beyond the trust.”
“I lied.”
Ethan stepped forward.
“Why?”
Dad looked at me.
“Because your grandfather knew someone in the family was stealing from him.”
“Who?”
He shook his head.
“We never found out.”
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a letter.
My grandfather's handwriting was unmistakable.
The letter explained that he had created the trust after discovering irregularities in the company accounts.
He suspected someone was transferring money through shell companies.
One of those companies was Northbridge.
But there was another name.
A name that made my stomach tighten.
Margaret Hale.
I looked at Dad.
“Who is Margaret Hale?”
He sat down.
“Your mother's sister.”
I stared at him.
“My aunt?”
“Yes.”
“I thought she died twenty years ago.”
“She disappeared.”
Ethan looked confused.
“Why?”
Dad's face hardened.
“Because she was accused of embezzlement.”
I read the letter again.
My grandfather had apparently believed Margaret was innocent.
He suspected someone had framed her.
And then came the part that changed everything.
My grandfather wrote that if anything happened to him, the trust should be placed under the control of his most trustworthy grandchild.
Me.
But there was a condition.
I couldn't access the full estate until I discovered the truth about Northbridge.
I looked at Dad.
“You knew this?”
“Yes.”
“For seventeen years?”
He nodded.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because your grandfather was murdered.”
The room became silent.
“What?”
Dad's eyes filled with tears.
“He didn't die naturally.”
Ethan stepped backward.
“What are you saying?”
“The official report said heart failure.”
Dad's voice shook.
“But your grandfather had been investigating the financial fraud.”
I stared at the old documents.
“Who killed him?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why hide it?”
Dad looked at me.
“Because after he died, someone threatened your mother.”
My mother.
The woman who had spent years favoring Ethan.
The woman who had treated me like an ATM.
The woman who had apparently been protecting a secret.
“Who threatened her?”
Dad opened the final compartment of the briefcase.
Inside was a photograph.
My mother.
My aunt Margaret.
And another man.
I recognized him immediately.
Our family attorney.
Dad whispered:
“He wasn't our attorney.”
I looked at the photograph.
“He worked for your grandfather.”
Dad nodded.
“And after your grandfather died, he started working for the person who wanted the trust.”
I felt a chill.
“Who?”
Dad looked directly at me.
“Your brother.”
Ethan's face turned white.
“What?”
Dad shook his head.
“Not you.”
He pointed toward the photograph.
“Your brother's biological father.”
The room stopped breathing.
Ethan stared at him.
“My biological father?”
Dad nodded.
And then he revealed something none of us had ever been told.
Ethan wasn't actually my mother's biological son.
He had been adopted.
May you like
And the man who had orchestrated the entire financial scheme…
was his birth father.
