Chapter 6 - My Father Wasn't Who They Said He WasMy father was supposed to be a ghost.
A man who left.
A selfish man.
A man Mother said abandoned us when I was six.
That story had been repeated so many times that it had become part of our family mythology.
Whenever I asked questions, Mother said the same thing.
“He chose another life.”
I believed her.
Until the voicemail.
They stole your father's life.
I couldn't stop hearing those words.
Adrian told me Laurent Bell's voice had been authenticated by an old recording.
It was him.
We arranged to meet at a private office the next morning.
He arrived wearing a gray coat and carrying a cane.
I recognized him from Grandma's photograph.
“Mr. Bell?”
He nodded.
“I was told you were dead.”
He smiled sadly.
“That was useful.”
I stared.
“You disappeared.”
“I had to.”
“Why?”
He looked at Emery.
Then at Adrian.
Then at me.
“Because your mother found out what I'd discovered.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did you discover?”
He placed a folder on the table.
Inside was a medical record.
My father's name.
Diagnosis.
Hospital.
Date.
I stared at the document.
“He was sick.”
Laurent nodded.
“But that isn't the whole story.”
He produced another.
A transfer order.
Hospital transfer.
Then a cancellation.
Signed by someone with legal authority.
My mother.
I couldn't speak.
“What did she do?”
Laurent hesitated.
“She moved him.”
“To where?”
“No one knows.”
I felt my chair shift beneath me.
“Are you telling me my father didn't leave?”
“No.”
He looked directly into my eyes.
“He never left voluntarily.”
Adrian asked, “Where did the transfer go?”
“Saint Dorian Recovery Center.”
“That facility closed twenty years ago.”
“Yes.”
I stared.
“How could he disappear into a facility that closed twenty years ago?”
Laurent looked down.
“Because the facility had another name before it closed.”
He pushed a photograph toward me.
The building looked abandoned.
Rust around the windows.
Overgrown grass.
A sign half torn away.
I read the old name.
DORIAN PRIVATE CARE.
I looked at Laurent.
“Why are you giving me this now?”
“Your grandmother made me promise.”
“What promise?”
“That if she died before the truth came out, I would tell you everything.”
“What happened to my father?”
Laurent took a slow breath.
“He was transferred there after accusing your mother of financial fraud.”
The room went silent.
“You mean he knew?”
“Yes.”
“He knew about my money?”
“He knew about more than that.”
“What?”
Laurent leaned forward.
“Your mother had been using your intellectual property to secure financing.”
I felt something inside me collapse.
My father had discovered it.
He confronted her.
Then he disappeared.
I looked at Adrian.
“Did Grandma know?”
“Yes.”
“Why did she never tell me?”
Laurent answered.
“Because your grandmother believed you were safer believing your father abandoned you.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It did to her.”
He handed me one final document.
It was a handwritten note.
My father's handwriting.
I recognized it from the few birthday cards I'd kept as a child.
If Vivienne ever learns the truth, tell her I never chose to leave her.
My vision blurred.
I covered my mouth.
Emery reached for my shoulder.
I whispered, “Where is he?”
Laurent looked at me.
“I don't know.”
“Then why did you say they stole his life?”
“Because after Saint Dorian, your father vanished.”
“Who took him?”
Laurent hesitated.
Then said a name.
“A man named Marcel Vey.”
I knew that name.
Everyone in the city's logistics world knew it.
Marcel Vey was the founder of Meridian Global.
One of Apex's largest competitors.
I stared at Adrian.
“Was he involved in my company?”
“No.”
Laurent corrected him.
“He was involved before it became a company.”
My heart pounded.
“What does that mean?”
Laurent opened the last folder.
Inside was an old patent application.
My design.
My handwriting.
But the applicant wasn't me.
It was Meridian Global.
Filed thirteen days before my sixteenth birthday.
I stared at the document.
Someone had stolen my invention before I even knew what it was worth.
Then I saw the signature.
My mother had signed as my legal guardian.
May you like
And beneath her signature was another.
Marcel Vey.
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