Chapter 3
I grabbed Charles by the sleeve before he could enter the elevator.
“What happened to Elias?”
He pulled away.
“Don't touch me.”
“Then answer the question.”
The elevator doors opened behind him.
Charles looked toward the empty car.
For a moment, I thought he might finally speak.
Instead, he whispered, “You're asking the wrong person.”
Then he stepped inside.
I blocked the doors with my arm.
“You've been this family's attorney for twenty-five years. You signed the documents. You knew about my mother.”
Charles looked directly into my eyes.
“Yes,” he said.
The admission shocked me.
“And if you want the truth, find the original police file from September 2009.”
The doors closed.
I stood motionless.
September 2009.
That was the month my mother died.
It was also the month my father told us Elias Carter had died in an overseas construction accident.
Until that night, I had never connected the two deaths.
When I returned to the ballroom, the dinner had collapsed into chaos.
Vanessa was crying beside the windows.
Brianna was demanding answers from Arthur.
Simone sat alone, staring at a photograph of our mother on her phone.
And Nia stood near the entrance, watching for me.
“Where did Charles go?” she asked.
“He ran.”
Her face tightened.
“Marcus, we need to leave.”
“Not before Dad tells me what happened in 2009.”
I approached Arthur.
“Elias died the same month Mom died.”
His shoulders stiffened.
“People die, Marcus.”
“That isn't an answer.”
He reached for his glass.
His hand was trembling badly enough that he spilled water.
I had never seen him like that.
“You're destroying this family over papers you don't understand.”
I leaned toward him.
“Did you steal Vanessa and Brianna's inheritance?”
Arthur said nothing.
“Did you lie about Simone's mother?”
He turned away.
“Did you have anything to do with what happened to Mom?”
That question finally broke him.
He looked at me with an expression I couldn't recognize.
“Your mother was the best person I ever knew.”
“Then why did she die frightened of you?”
Arthur's face crumpled.
“I never wanted her hurt.”
The words chilled me.
I hadn't asked whether he wanted her hurt.
I had asked why she was frightened.
Nia stepped between us.
“Marcus, please. We need evidence before this gets worse.”
I looked at her.
“Did you know about the police file?”
She shook her head.
“Not until tonight.”
I wanted to believe her.
But something about the way she avoided my eyes bothered me.
We left the penthouse shortly afterward.
Vanessa and Brianna agreed to meet an independent attorney the following morning.
Simone insisted on coming home with us.
She didn't want to spend another night in Arthur's house.
As I drove through Atlanta, nobody spoke.
Finally, Simone whispered from the back seat.
“Marcus, do you remember when Mom used to sing to me?”
I glanced in the mirror.
“Of course.”
“She told me I was her miracle.”
Her voice cracked.
“Why would Dad make her pretend I belonged to someone else?”
I had no answer.
Nia reached back and squeezed Simone's hand.
“We're going to find out.”
When we reached our house, I went straight to my study.
I searched online archives for Elias Carter.
His name appeared in a handful of business articles from the early 2000s.
He had been a respected developer.
A father of two.
A man who helped Arthur build the company's first luxury apartment project.
Then I found an archived newspaper report.
LOCAL DEVELOPER DIES AFTER FATAL WAREHOUSE INCIDENT.
The article stated Elias had died after falling from an elevated storage platform at a company warehouse.
Not overseas.
Not on a construction site.
In Atlanta.
And the warehouse had been owned by my father.
I stared at the screen.
Arthur had lied about the location of Elias's death.
The report mentioned that authorities initially investigated suspicious circumstances but later classified the death as accidental.
No further details were available.
I printed the article.
Then I searched for my mother's hospital admission.
That search led nowhere.
Her records were protected.
But the anonymous number sent another message.
CHECK THE SECURITY LOG FROM SEPTEMBER 18.
Attached was a photograph of a handwritten visitor register.
At 9:42 that evening, my mother entered Bennett-Carter Headquarters.
At 9:47, Arthur arrived.
At 9:51, Charles Whitmore entered.
At 10:16, emergency services were called.
And at 10:19, someone named Helena Carter signed out.
I stopped breathing.
Helena Carter.
Vanessa and Brianna's mother.
According to Arthur, she had died years earlier.
Yet her signature appeared on a visitor register from the night my mother was injured.
I turned toward Nia.
She was standing in the doorway.
“Who sent that?” she asked.
“I don't know.”
She studied my expression.
“What did you find?”
I pointed at the screen.
“Helena Carter was alive in September 2009.”
Nia's hand flew to her mouth.
“Marcus…”
I stood.
“Dad told Vanessa and Brianna their mother died in 2003.”
Simone appeared behind Nia.
“What?”
I showed them the register.
Simone read it twice.
Then she whispered, “Could it be another person with the same name?”
“Maybe.”
But deep down, I knew we were dealing with something larger.
The next morning, I called a private investigator named Daniel Brooks.
He was a retired detective recommended by a trusted colleague.
I explained what we had discovered.
Daniel listened without interrupting.
Then he asked for the warehouse address.
I gave it to him.
He became quiet.
“Mr. Bennett,” he said, “I remember that case.”
My stomach dropped.
“Why?”
“Because I was one of the detectives assigned to the original investigation.”
I tightened my grip on the phone.
“Then tell me what happened.”
Daniel exhaled.
“Elias Carter's death was never as simple as the official report claimed.”
“Was my father involved?”
“I can't answer that without reviewing the evidence.”
“Where can I find it?”
Another pause.
“Meet me tomorrow morning. Bring your wife.”
“Why Nia?”
May you like
Daniel's next words made my blood run cold.
“Because I spoke to her six weeks ago. And she already knows part of the story.”
