Chapter 4 - What My Father Had Been HidingThe next morning, I woke up to twelve missed calls.
Nine from unknown numbers.
Three from Thomas.
I didn't answer any of them.
Instead, I opened the documents Laura had given me.
There were pages I hadn't read.
One caught my attention immediately.
It was dated two weeks before my diagnosis.
A meeting between Richard Carter and his attorney.
The subject line read:
Emergency Amendment to Family Trust.
I read the first paragraph.
Then the second.
Then I reached the sentence that made my blood run cold.
“In the event that Thomas Carter attempts to interfere with Emily Carter's access to the trust, all authority concerning the estate shall transfer to an independent guardian.”
Independent guardian.
That guardian wasn't my father.
It wasn't my mother.
It wasn't even a relative.
It was Laura.
I stared at her.
“You were named?”
She nodded.
“I didn't know until after your grandfather died.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“You were thirteen.”
“I could handle the truth.”
“You were fighting cancer.”
My voice broke.
“I deserved to know.”
Laura came closer.
“I was afraid telling you would destroy what little peace you had left.”
I looked away.
“Maybe it would have been better than living with a lie.”
She was quiet.
Then she said:
“There's another document.”
She opened the folder.
A letter.
This time, the handwriting wasn't Thomas's.
It was Richard's.
I unfolded it.
Dear Emily,
You may not remember me.
I have watched you from a distance because your father made it clear that I was not welcome in your life.
I have made mistakes.
I regret them.
But there is one thing I want you to know.
You are not the child your father thinks you are.
You are stronger than he believes.
And one day, when you are old enough, everything that belongs to you will be yours.
Protect yourself.
Trust carefully.
And never allow anyone to convince you that your worth can be measured by money.
I stopped reading.
My eyes burned.
He had written that before I was diagnosed.
Before everything happened.
He had known.
He had anticipated something.
“What was wrong between him and Thomas?” I asked.
Laura took a long breath.
“Your grandfather founded a pharmaceutical company.”
I looked at her.
“What company?”
She told me.
I recognized the name instantly.
It was a multinational medical company whose products were used in hospitals across the country.
I sat down.
“My grandfather owned that?”
“Your father was supposed to inherit it.”
“But he didn't.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Laura handed me another document.
This one contained a legal filing.
I read slowly.
My father's name appeared repeatedly.
Fraud.
Unauthorized transfers.
Misuse of company funds.
Confidential negotiations.
I looked up.
“My father committed fraud?”
“Your grandfather believed he did.”
“But was he convicted?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Laura looked at me.
“Because Richard died before the investigation finished.”
The room went quiet.
I looked again at the envelope from my father.
“You said he knew the treatment had already been paid for.”
“Yes.”
“And he still abandoned me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Laura didn't answer.
Then she said something that made the blood drain from my face.
“Because if you survived, the trust would eventually become yours.”
I stared at her.
“And if I didn't?”
“The money would have gone somewhere else.”
“To Megan?”
Laura nodded.
I looked at the papers.
The pieces came together.
My father's obsession with Megan.
His insistence that she had a future.
His refusal to pay for me.
His claim that I was average.
It had never been about my worth.
It had been about money.
My cancer had simply been an opportunity.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
It showed me standing outside the hospital fifteen years ago.
Someone had been watching me.
Underneath the photograph were four words:
We remember everything.
A second message followed.
Ask Laura about May 17.
I looked at her.
She had already gone pale.
“What happened on May 17?”
She sat down slowly.
“That was the day your father came to the hospital alone.”
“For what?”
Laura stared at me.
“He came to ask whether you were going to survive.”
I swallowed.
“And?”
“He wasn't asking because he cared.”
“What was he asking?”
May you like
Laura's voice dropped to a whisper.
“He wanted to know how long he had before the trust became his problem.”
