Chapter 4: The Letter Written After His Funeral
For the first time in my life, I didn't know whether I was more afraid of my wife or the possibility that my father was still alive.
Rachel stood beside the dining table, staring at the silver key in my hand.
My mother remained seated, her fingers trembling against the edge of her teacup.
I put Mr. Bennett on speaker.
"Tell me exactly what you found," I said.
The attorney cleared his throat.
"Daniel, I don't want to discuss this over the phone. There are documents involved, and some of them are extremely sensitive.""
"Then tell me why my father's death certificate has a different name.""
Another pause.
"Because the man whose death was officially recorded may not have been your father.""
Rachel suddenly stepped forward.
"Hang up.""
I looked at her.
"What?""
"Hang up the phone, Daniel.""
Her voice was sharp enough to make Mom flinch.
Mr. Bennett heard her.
"Is Rachel there?""
"Yes.""
"Then I strongly recommend you don't discuss anything further in front of her.""
Rachel grabbed her handbag.
"This is absurd. You're allowing an old man to manipulate you.""
I ended the call.
Not because Rachel had told me to.
Because I wanted to see what she would do next.
She walked toward the kitchen, opened a drawer, and began searching through it.
"What are you looking for?"" I asked.
"My medication.""
"Your medication is upstairs.""
She stopped.
Then slowly turned around.
"Daniel, I know you're upset. But you're letting your mother and your brother turn you against me.""
I almost laughed.
"My brother just told me to ask you about Dad's will. My mother says she saw you sneaking out of a bedroom with him. And now our attorney says Dad's death certificate is questionable.""
Rachel folded her arms.
"And you believe all of them?""
"I believe the documents.""
"Which documents? You haven't even seen them!""
"That's why I'm going to see them tomorrow.""
Her expression changed.
For a moment, she looked genuinely frightened.
Then she walked over and placed both hands on my chest.
"Listen to me. Your father was sick. He was confused near the end. There were legal arrangements you weren't aware of.""
"What arrangements?""
"I promised him I wouldn't tell you.""
"Why would you promise my father something that involved my inheritance?""
She looked away.
"Because he didn't trust you.""
The words landed harder than I expected.
My father and I had been close.
He taught me how to ride a bicycle, helped me buy my first car, and attended every graduation ceremony.
Even after I married Rachel, he called me every Sunday.
"That's a lie," I said.
Rachel's eyes filled with tears.
"Your father thought you were too trusting. He believed Michael was the only one who understood the family business.""
I stared at her.
"My brother?""
"Yes.""
I remembered Michael's gambling debts, his failed business ventures, and the countless times Dad had rescued him.
It made no sense.
But Rachel spoke with such confidence that I almost wanted to believe her.
Then Mom interrupted.
"That's not what your father said.""
Rachel spun around.
"Margaret, stop.""
Mom stood slowly.
"Your father told me something before he died. He said Daniel was the only person he trusted with the truth.""
Rachel's face tightened.
"You're confused again.""
"No," Mom replied.
"I'm finally remembering everything.""
I turned toward her.
"Everything about what?""
Mom reached into her cardigan again.
This time, she pulled out a small envelope.
It was yellowed at the edges, sealed with clear tape.
My name was written across the front in my father's handwriting.
I recognized it immediately.
My hands began shaking.
"Where did you get this?""
"Your father gave it to me two days before the funeral.""
Rachel took a step toward us.
"Margaret, give that to me.""
Mom held the envelope against her chest.
"No.""
Rachel's voice dropped.
"You don't understand what you're doing.""
Mom looked at her.
"I understand perfectly.""
I carefully took the envelope.
Inside was a single handwritten sentence.
Daniel, if you are reading this, someone has convinced you that I am dead. Do not trust the person who arranged my funeral.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
My knees felt weak.
"Mom...""
She began crying.
"I wanted to tell you. But Rachel said if I did, she would make sure I never saw you again.""
I turned toward my wife.
Rachel shook her head.
"That letter is meaningless. Your father was on strong medication. He didn't know what he was writing.""
"Then why are you afraid of it?""
She didn't answer.
Instead, she grabbed her handbag and headed for the front door.
I stepped aside.
"Where are you going?""
"To Michael's.""
"You're not leaving until you explain what's happening.""
She looked at me with an expression I had never seen before.
"Daniel, you have no idea what your brother is capable of.""
"Then tell me.""
She opened the door.
"Ask him why he needed your father's signature so badly.""
And then she left.
I stood in the doorway until her car disappeared.
Mom came up beside me.
"Your father wanted you to find that letter.""
I looked down at the envelope.
"Why didn't you give it to me sooner?""
"Because Rachel found out I had it. She searched my room twice. I had to hide it inside the lining of my winter coat.""
I looked at her.
"Mom, is Dad alive?""
She closed her eyes.
"I don't know.""
That night, I slept in the living room.
At 3:12 a.m., my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
One photograph.
It showed a man sitting beside a hospital window, his face turned toward the camera.
He had gray hair, a familiar scar above his left eyebrow, and the same wedding ring my father had worn for forty years.
May you like
Below the photograph was a message.
*Your father wants to see you. But before you come, you need to know what Rachel did to him.*
