Chapter 3 - The Man in the PhotographThe drive home was silent.
I sat in the passenger seat staring through the window.
Streetlights slid across the glass.
Every few seconds, I looked down at the envelope.
My hands felt cold.
“Did my grandfather know about me?”
Laura kept her eyes on the road.
“Yes.”
“Before I got sick?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't I know about him?”
Laura swallowed.
“Because your father didn't want you to.”
That answer hurt more than I expected.
“What was his name?”
“Richard Carter.”
The surname sounded familiar.
“Where is he now?”
Laura didn't answer.
“Mom.”
“He died.”
My stomach dropped.
“When?”
“Sixteen years ago.”
I stared at her.
“That makes no sense.”
She sighed.
“He died a year before your diagnosis.”
“Then how could he have paid for my treatment?”
Laura pulled into the driveway.
“Come inside.”
I followed her.
Our house had not changed much.
The same photographs lined the hallway.
My first school picture.
My high school graduation.
My acceptance letter to medical school.
Laura had kept everything.
She walked to a wooden cabinet and unlocked the bottom drawer.
Inside was a thick brown folder.
She handed it to me.
I opened it.
The first document was a photograph.
A man stood beside a woman.
He was older, silver-haired, stern.
But his eyes looked familiar.
I stared.
“That’s him?”
“Richard.”
I touched the photograph.
“Why does he look like me?”
Laura sat down.
“Because he was your grandfather.”
I turned the next page.
Bank statements.
Legal documents.
Medical records.
Insurance forms.
Then I saw a number that made my mouth fall open.
The estimated cost of my treatment was listed.
Then beside it was a line:
Paid in full by the Richard Carter Family Trust.
My hands began shaking.
“They paid for everything?”
“Yes.”
“And my father knew?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did he tell me we couldn't afford it?”
Laura looked away.
“I didn't understand it at first either.”
“What changed?”
“After you were admitted, I discovered that someone had contacted the hospital billing department.”
“Who?”
“Your grandfather's attorney.”
I turned another page.
There was a copy of the trust agreement.
I read the first paragraph.
My pulse accelerated.
The trust had been created for one beneficiary.
Me.
Emily Rose Carter.
Not Megan.
Me.
I kept reading.
The trust would provide funds for my medical care.
My education.
My living expenses.
And when I reached adulthood, a larger estate would transfer to me.
I stared at the final section.
“Why didn't I receive any of this?”
Laura's silence answered the question.
“My parents stole it.”
She shook her head.
“I don't know if stole is legally accurate.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some of the money was used.”
“How much?”
Laura hesitated.
“Enough.”
My throat tightened.
“How much is left?”
“That's what your father wants.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“The inheritance.”
I looked back at the documents.
“There's still money?”
Laura nodded.
“Quite a lot.”
“How much?”
She whispered:
“More than thirty million dollars.”
I laughed.
It came out as a broken sound.
“Thirty million?”
“Yes.”
I stood.
“My father told me our family couldn't afford chemotherapy.”
“He lied.”
“And now he wants my inheritance.”
“Yes.”
I looked at the photograph of my grandfather again.
Something about his expression bothered me.
Then I noticed something on the back.
A handwritten message.
I flipped it over.
Six words.
Protect Emily from her father.
My heart stopped.
I turned to Laura.
“Did my grandfather write this?”
She nodded.
“When?”
“Three months before he died.”
“Why?”
Laura looked terrified.
“I don't know.”
I stared at her.
“You do know.”
She didn't respond.
“Mom.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
Then she finally said:
“Your grandfather believed Thomas was going to betray him.”
My phone suddenly rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
No one spoke.
Then a man's voice came through.
“You should stop asking questions about your father.”
I froze.
“Who is this?”
The caller laughed quietly.
“You're opening doors that were closed for a reason.”
Then the line went dead.
I looked at Laura.
She already knew something was wrong.
“What did he say?”
I told her.
Her face went pale.
May you like
Then she whispered:
“They've found you.”
