Chapter 3 - My Father's Accident Wasn't an AccidentMy father had died fourteen months earlier.
Rainy road.
Failed brakes.
Single-car crash.
At least, that's what I had believed.
Evelyn sat across from me.
Carmine stood behind her.
Delaney was in the adjoining room.
Dr. Price stayed with her.
I couldn't stop staring at Evelyn.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“You knew my father was going to die?”
“No.”
“Then explain.”
She inhaled.
“Your father found out people were stealing from the company.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“Yes.”
The admission stunned me.
She looked exhausted.
“There were accounts.”
“Shell companies.”
“Money moved through warehouses.”
“Your father found them.”
“And Delaney?”
“She saw something.”
“What?”
“Your father was arguing with someone the night before the accident.”
“Who?”
Evelyn looked at me.
“Lena's father.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Daniel Bell.”
The name appeared in the blue notebook.
Lena Bell.
Her father.
My family had crossed paths with hers long before the house.
Evelyn continued.
“Daniel worked maintenance for your father.”
“Why would Delaney know him?”
“She overheard the conversation.”
“What conversation?”
Evelyn lowered her head.
“Your father accused Daniel of stealing.”
“And did he?”
“No.”
I stared.
“Who was?”
Evelyn didn't answer.
Then Delaney entered.
She walked.
Unsteadily.
But she walked.
I stared at her.
She was supposed to need assistance.
She didn't.
She crossed the room using the wall for balance.
My heart broke.
All those months.
All those reports.
All those times I had entered her room and found her unable to stand.
She had been capable.
Or at least learning.
She reached me.
Took my hand.
Then looked at Evelyn.
Evelyn began to cry.
“I'm sorry.”
Delaney recoiled.
I placed myself between them.
“Get out.”
Evelyn shook her head.
“Leon—”
“Get out of this house.”
“You don't understand.”
“No.”
My voice became cold.
“I finally do.”
She left.
That night, Delaney showed me something.
She took me to the greenhouse.
The old building had been locked for years.
The windows were cracked.
Plants had died.
Dust covered the floor.
She pointed at a hidden cabinet.
I opened it.
Inside was a metal box.
The lock was broken.
Inside were photographs.
My father.
Daniel Bell.
Dr. Harlow.
A fourth man.
I recognized him.
Richard Voss.
Our former chief financial officer.
He had resigned after my father's death.
I had thought he retired.
Delaney pointed to a photograph.
The accident site.
Then another.
A tire.
Then another.
A brake component.
She wrote:
NOT BROKEN
I stared.
“The brakes weren't defective.”
She nodded.
I felt sick.
Then she showed me a second photograph.
My father arguing with Richard Voss.
And behind them stood Dr. Harlow.
The man treating my sister.
My own family doctor.
The man who had been medicating her.
I called Carmine.
“Find Voss.”
“He disappeared six months ago.”
“Find him.”
“Yes.”
“And Harlow.”
“We already have a team on him.”
“Don't arrest him yet.”
Carmine paused.
“Why?”
“I want to know who paid him.”
The answer came four hours later.
Offshore transfers.
A shell company.
Then another.
The money traced back to a holding company owned by Evelyn.
My aunt.
The woman who had raised me.
The woman who had been sitting beside Delaney's hospital bed.
I confronted her.
She finally admitted enough.
“My father wanted control of the company.”
She said it quietly.
“Your father planned to hand everything to you.”
“Why?”
“Because he knew you would protect Delaney.”
I laughed bitterly.
“So you kept her helpless.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“She had seen Richard.”
“What did she see?”
“Your father being attacked.”
The words stopped me.
“Before the accident.”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
Evelyn looked down.
“Richard.”
“And you?”
“I helped cover it.”
I stared.
“You helped kill my father.”
“I didn't kill him.”
“You helped the man who did.”
She cried.
“I thought I was protecting the family.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“You were protecting the fortune.”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
That was the ugliest truth I had ever heard.
But then she said:
“Victor has the final evidence.”
I froze.
“Victor?”
“Your younger brother.”
I laughed.
“He died when he was twelve.”
Evelyn shook her head.
“No.”
I stared.
“What did you just say?”
“Victor survived.”
“How?”
“He was sent away.”
“By whom?”
“Your father.”
“Why?”
“Because Victor knew too much.”
The world seemed to tilt.
I had spent twenty years believing I was an only child with one younger sister.
Apparently there had been another secret.
Another family.
Another lie.
And suddenly Lena's disappearance made sense.
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If Victor had survived, then he had a reason to stay hidden.
And he might know what happened to my father.
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