Chapter 5
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
My younger brother's voice echoed through the dusty study.
"You promised nobody would get hurt."
I replayed those words in my head.
Darius had always been reckless.
He'd borrowed money.
Missed meetings.
Made promises he couldn't keep.
But hurting family?
That was different.
I remembered us as children, racing bicycles through the driveway.
He'd fallen once and split his knee open.
I'd carried him home.
He'd cried against my shoulder.
"Don't let Mom get mad."
Even then, Darius had been afraid of disappointing her.
I looked at Samuel.
"When was this recorded?"
"Nine days before your accident."
My heart pounded.
"Was Naomi already dead?"
He nodded.
The room fell silent.
"So he knew something."
"Yes."
"Where is he now?"
Samuel closed his laptop.
"I found him in Charlotte last month. He agreed to talk, but he didn't show up."
"Why?"
"Someone warned him."
I stared at my father's desk.
Every answer seemed to reveal another betrayal.
Claire touched my arm.
"Marcus, we should give this to Angela."
"We will."
I looked at Samuel.
"But first I need to know what happened to Naomi."
Samuel sat across from me.
"Your wife discovered that Evelyn had been diverting charitable funds into private accounts. She also uncovered irregularities in several property transfers."
I swallowed.
"Why didn't she tell me everything?"
"She tried."
I shook my head.
"No. I would've listened."
Samuel looked at me sadly.
"Naomi said you trusted your mother more than anyone."
That hurt because it was true.
I remembered the last serious argument Naomi and I had.
She'd accused Evelyn of controlling our marriage.
I'd defended my mother.
Naomi had cried.
"Marcus, one day you're going to realize loving someone doesn't mean letting them make every decision."
I'd told her she was being unfair.
Now those words felt like knives.
Samuel continued.
"Naomi wanted proof you couldn't dismiss. She collected documents and arranged a meeting with federal investigators through an attorney."
"Did she make that meeting?"
"No."
My eyes filled.
"Because she died."
Samuel nodded.
Then he slid another photograph across the desk.
Naomi's car.
The vehicle was badly damaged.
I'd seen photographs from the crash before.
But this image showed something unusual.
A close-up of the brake assembly.
Samuel pointed to a section.
"An independent mechanic raised concerns about recent work on the system."
"Was it tampered with?"
"He couldn't reach a conclusion from the photographs alone. The original parts are missing."
I looked up.
"Missing?"
"The evidence inventory says they were transferred for additional testing. There's no completed test report."
I clenched my fists.
"Who ordered the transfer?"
Samuel hesitated.
"An investigator with connections to your mother's former attorney."
I stood abruptly.
My legs shook.
But I didn't sit.
"She took my wife."
"Marcus, we don't know that."
I looked at him.
"She made me think I was helpless. She took my money. She frightened my daughter. And now you're telling me Naomi died while investigating her."
Samuel didn't argue.
Neither did Claire.
But I knew anger wasn't evidence.
I had to remember that.
For Lily.
For Naomi.
For every person Evelyn might have hurt.
On the way back to Atlanta, Angela called.
She had obtained an emergency hearing for the following morning.
And Dr. Brooks had received preliminary test results.
I put Angela on speaker.
"Some prescribed sedating medications were present, consistent with what you've reported," she said. "The toxicology results also raised questions about another substance, but the laboratory needs confirmatory testing."
"Can they prove what my mother gave me?"
"Not yet. Dr. Brooks wants the actual bottles."
I thought about the locked cabinet at home.
"They're in her house."
"We won't enter without permission," Angela said. "I've already discussed lawful evidence preservation options with investigators."
She paused.
"Marcus, there's something else."
"What?"
"Your mother filed an emergency petition this morning."
My stomach dropped.
"For what?"
"She's asking the court to temporarily restrict your unsupervised contact with Lily."
I gripped the phone.
"On what grounds?"
"She claims your sudden change in medical behavior makes you unstable and potentially dangerous."
I couldn't speak.
Angela continued.
"She included statements supposedly made by Lily."
My voice shook.
"My daughter would never say those things."
"I believe you. But we need to respond carefully."
I looked toward Claire.
Fear had replaced my anger.
My mother wasn't simply trying to control me anymore.
She was coming for Lily.
By the time we reached Angela's office, I was shaking so badly that Claire insisted I rest.
But I couldn't.
I needed to see my daughter.
Angela arranged a video call.
Lily appeared on the screen, sitting beside a plate of cookies.
"Daddy!"
My chest ached.
"Hey, sunshine."
"Are you coming back?"
"Of course."
She smiled.
"Can we practice walking together?"
I swallowed.
"Every day."
Then her expression changed.
"Daddy, Grandma called."
I went still.
"What did she say?"
"She said people might take me away if I keep talking about the ballroom."
Anger surged through me.
"Sweetheart, did that scare you?"
She nodded.
I held back tears.
"Listen carefully. You did nothing wrong. No matter what anyone says, telling the truth wasn't a mistake."
She studied my face.
"Even if Grandma gets mad?"
"Even then."
Lily nodded slowly.
Then she reached toward the camera.
"I love you, Daddy."
"I love you more than every star in the sky."
After the call, I sat silently.
Angela placed a document in front of me.
It was Evelyn's petition.
She had described me as delusional.
Aggressive.
Unable to make safe decisions.
Then I reached the final page.
An attached medical affidavit.
Signed by Dr. Cole.
It claimed I'd shown violent behavior toward Lily.
I stared at the signature.
"He's lying."
Angela nodded.
"If we can establish that, it could seriously damage their case."
A sudden knock interrupted us.
Angela's assistant opened the door.
A man stood in the hallway.
Tall.
Thin.
Wearing a worn leather jacket.
I knew his face immediately.
Darius.
My brother.
He looked at my wheelchair.
Then at me.
Tears filled his eyes.
"Marcus," he whispered.
I slowly stood.
His face crumpled.
"Oh, God."
I took one step toward him.
"Tell me what you did."
He began crying.
May you like
And when he finally spoke, his answer was worse than anything I'd imagined.
"Marcus, I helped Mom cover up Naomi's murder."
