Chapter 7
Thomas Reed met us at Rebecca's office two days later.
He was seventy years old, with neatly trimmed gray hair and a walking cane.
The moment he saw Arthur, he stopped.
For several seconds, the two men simply stared at each other.
Then Thomas began crying.
"Arthur."
My father stood.
"Thomas."
They embraced.
I watched from beside Marcus.
Two elderly men holding each other after fifteen years of silence.
It broke my heart.
Thomas pulled back.
"I tried to reach you."
Arthur nodded.
"I know that now."
I stared at them.
"Why couldn't you?"
Thomas sat down slowly.
"Because I was threatened."
My stomach tightened.
"By Conrad?"
He nodded.
"Yes."
Rebecca asked him to explain everything carefully.
Thomas took a breath.
"Fifteen years ago, I was the company's senior accountant. I discovered irregular payments to businesses that didn't provide legitimate services."
I leaned forward.
"Whose businesses?"
"Companies connected to Conrad Vale."
Arthur closed his eyes.
Thomas continued.
"I brought the records to Bernard Cole because he was our legal adviser."
Marcus looked at him.
"What did my father do?"
Thomas's eyes softened.
"He believed me."
Marcus stopped breathing.
Thomas continued.
"Bernard asked for a complete audit."
I looked at Arthur.
His face had changed.
For years, he had believed Bernard betrayed him.
Now Thomas was telling us Bernard had tried to expose the theft.
"But Conrad found out," Thomas said.
Rebecca leaned forward.
"What happened?"
"Several original records disappeared. New documents appeared showing Arthur had authorized the transfers."
I felt sick.
"Forged documents?"
Thomas nodded.
"That's what I suspected."
Arthur looked down.
"And those were the records used against me."
Thomas's voice broke.
"I'm sorry."
My father shook his head.
"You didn't do it."
Thomas wiped his eyes.
"I should have fought harder."
Arthur reached across the table.
"None of us knew how far Conrad would go."
Rebecca asked about Bernard's missing statement.
Thomas nodded.
"Bernard prepared it after reviewing the inconsistencies."
"Why wasn't it submitted?"
Thomas looked troubled.
"Conrad told him the statement would create legal problems because the investigation was already underway."
Marcus frowned.
"My father believed him?"
"At first."
Thomas took another breath.
"Then Bernard started his own review."
My heart raced.
"The red file."
Thomas nodded.
"He kept copies of everything."
Marcus stared at him.
"Did my father know Arthur was innocent?"
Thomas hesitated.
"He believed there was serious doubt. I don't know whether he established every fact before the conviction."
I appreciated his honesty.
We needed the truth.
Even when it was incomplete.
Thomas continued.
"After Arthur went to prison, Bernard confronted Conrad."
My stomach tightened.
"What happened?"
"Conrad threatened to expose private financial arrangements and damage Bernard's reputation."
Marcus looked sick.
Thomas turned toward him.
"Your father made mistakes, son."
Marcus lowered his eyes.
"He trusted Conrad too long. He didn't act quickly enough. And his silence helped an innocent man suffer."
My father closed his eyes.
Thomas continued.
"But Bernard eventually tried to correct it."
Marcus began crying.
For years, he'd believed his father was honorable.
Now the truth was more complicated.
Bernard hadn't been entirely innocent.
But he hadn't been the mastermind either.
He had failed Arthur through hesitation and misplaced loyalty.
Then he had tried to repair the damage.
I reached for Marcus's hand.
He squeezed mine tightly.
Rebecca asked Thomas whether he had retained any records.
He nodded.
"Some."
He opened his briefcase.
Inside was a small folder.
Copies of invoices.
Account summaries.
And handwritten notes from Bernard.
Thomas had preserved them for years.
"I was afraid to use them," he admitted.
I stared at him.
"Why?"
"Conrad threatened my family."
My stomach tightened.
Thomas continued.
"He knew where my daughter worked. He knew my wife's medical condition. He told me accidents happened to people who interfered."
Arthur's expression hardened.
"That sounds like Conrad."
Rebecca examined the documents.
Then she looked up.
"These may help establish a pattern. But we still need the original records."
Thomas nodded.
"I know."
He hesitated.
"There's something else."
I leaned forward.
"What?"
"Bernard asked me to prepare a reconciliation of the trust accounts shortly before he died."
Marcus went still.
"What did you find?"
Thomas looked at me.
"Nia, much of your mother's property was never lost."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
"Some assets were transferred into holding structures controlled by Vivian and Conrad."
I stared at him.
"How much?"
He swallowed.
"The value has changed over time."
"How much?"
He looked at Rebecca.
Then back at me.
"Potentially more than three million dollars."
I couldn't breathe.
Three million.
My mother's property.
My family's future.
Money that should have supported my education, my father's legal defense, and the life we were supposed to have together.
Instead, it had been hidden behind companies and legal arrangements for fifteen years.
I looked at Arthur.
His eyes filled with tears.
Then Thomas said something I hadn't expected.
"Bernard was preparing to bring everything to the authorities."
Marcus looked up.
"What happened?"
Thomas lowered his head.
"He died before completing the process."
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Rebecca asked, "Did Conrad know Bernard was investigating?"
Thomas nodded.
"He suspected it."
My stomach tightened.
"And the red file?"
Thomas looked toward Marcus.
"Bernard told me he had hidden the originals in a cabinet only he could open."
Marcus frowned.
"But Conrad has the office now."
Thomas nodded.
"Yes."
I looked at Rebecca.
"Can we recover it?"
She took a breath.
"We've already requested preservation and appropriate legal access."
I nodded.
For the first time, I felt the investigation was moving forward.
But I also felt something else.
Anger.
Not the wild anger I'd felt when Arthur interrupted my wedding.
A quieter anger.
The kind that comes when you understand how many people had been harmed by the same lie.
My father lost nine years of freedom.
I lost fifteen years with him.
Marcus lost the chance to understand his father's final decisions.
Thomas lived in fear.
And my mother's legacy had been used to enrich people who pretended to care about me.
I stood.
"I want to make a statement."
Rebecca looked at me.
"You already have."
I shook my head.
"I want to tell investigators everything Vivian said in Savannah."
She nodded.
"That's important."
I looked at Arthur.
"Will you come with me?"
He stood immediately.
"Of course."
Marcus rose beside us.
"And me."
I turned toward him.
For several seconds, I studied his face.
The man I loved.
The man who had kept a painful secret from me.
The man who was now choosing to face the truth, even when it threatened everything he believed about his father.
I took his hand.
"Okay."
That afternoon, I provided a detailed statement.
I explained Vivian's admission.
The documents.
The letters.
The trust.
I told investigators about the years of deception.
And for the first time, I didn't feel ashamed of what had happened to me.
I felt determined.
When we left, Arthur waited beside the car.
He looked tired.
I approached him.
"Dad?"
He turned.
The word seemed to surprise him.
I hadn't called him that since the wedding.
His eyes filled.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
I smiled through my tears.
"Would you like to have dinner with me?"
He stared at me.
"Just us?"
I nodded.
"Just us."
He began crying.
Then he laughed softly.
"I'd like that very much."
We went to a small diner.
He ordered chicken and mashed potatoes.
I ordered soup.
For two hours, we talked.
Not about Conrad.
Not about Vivian.
Not about money.
We talked about childhood memories.
My favorite cartoons.
The dog we used to have.
The way Mom sang while washing dishes.
Arthur told me stories I'd forgotten.
And I told him about the woman I'd become.
My job.
My friends.
My dreams.
When dinner ended, he looked at me.
"I missed so much."
My throat tightened.
"I know."
He lowered his head.
"I'm sorry."
I reached across the table.
"Dad, you didn't choose to leave."
He began crying.
I squeezed his hand.
"We can't get those years back."
He nodded.
"But we can stop losing the ones ahead of us."
He looked at me.
Then he smiled.
May you like
And for the first time since my wedding fell apart, I felt like I had found something more valuable than the truth.
I had found my father again.
