Chapter 11: The Night My Mother Disappeared
I drove back to the estate without saying another word to Natalie.
The roads were dark, and the rain had started falling heavily. My headlights cut through the trees as I approached the gates.
When I entered the house, Eleanor was waiting in the library.
A small wooden box sat on the table.
She looked older than she had that morning.
"Adrian.""
I walked toward her.
"What did you find?""
She opened the box.
Inside were several letters, a photograph, and a small notebook with a worn leather cover.
"I found these behind the false panel in your mother's old bedroom wardrobe," she said.
I stared at the notebook.
"Why were they hidden?""
"Your mother asked me to keep them safe. After she died, I was so overwhelmed that I forgot where I had put them.""
She touched the notebook.
"I remembered last night.""
I sat beside her.
"Did you read them?""
"Only one.""
She handed me a letter.
My mother's handwriting covered both sides.
Eleanor,
If Richard discovers what I have done, he will never forgive me.
I have found evidence that he has been moving money from the family trust. At first, I believed it was a temporary arrangement. Then I discovered that the amounts were much larger than he had admitted.
I have spoken to Margaret. She believes the documents can protect Adrian, but we need to act quickly.
Please don't let Richard convince you that I'm imagining things.
I stopped reading.
"Grandma, did you know about this?""
Eleanor's eyes filled with tears.
"Not at the time.""
"Did Mom tell you anything?""
"She came to me several times. She was frightened, but she refused to explain everything because she didn't want you involved.""
I looked at the next page.
There was a date.
It was two days before my mother's death.
My fingers began trembling.
"What happened during those two days?""
Eleanor stared out the window.
"Your mother called me late at night. She said she had arranged a meeting with Margaret and someone from the bank.""
"Who?""
"She didn't say.""
"And Dad?""
"Your father was furious. They argued in the study.""
I leaned forward.
"What did they argue about?""
"Money. Documents. Something about a signature.""
Grandma's voice cracked.
"Your mother told him that she would not allow him to use your name to move the estate funds.""
I looked down.
"Then what happened?""
"She left the following morning.""
"Where did she go?""
"She said she was meeting Margaret.""
I stared at her.
"But she died that evening.""
Eleanor nodded.
"Yes.""
I swallowed.
"How?""
Grandma began crying.
"Your father told me she had suffered a sudden medical emergency while driving home.""
"Was there an investigation?""
"There was a report. He handled everything.""
I felt my chest tighten.
"Did you see her?""
"At the hospital.""
"Was she conscious?""
Eleanor shook her head.
"No.""
I stared at the photograph on the table.
It showed my mother standing in the garden, holding a cup of tea.
She looked happy.
Healthy.
Alive.
I picked up the notebook.
The first few pages contained household expenses and personal notes. Then I found a page dated the day before her death.
Richard knows I have copies.
He knows I have spoken to Margaret.
If anything happens to me, Adrian must never sign the agreement.
I read it twice.
Then I turned the page.
There was a name.
*Dr. Samuel Reed.*
Beside it, my mother had written:
Ask him about the medication.
I looked at Grandma.
"Who is Dr. Reed?""
Her expression changed.
"He was your mother's physician.""
"Is he still alive?""
"I believe so.""
"Where can I find him?""
"I don't know. He moved away several years ago.""
I photographed the page.
Then I opened the remaining letters.
One contained a handwritten note from Margaret Whitmore.
Patricia, I have reviewed the medical records you sent. There are inconsistencies. I strongly advise you not to confront Richard until we have secured the original documents.
Another page contained a short statement.
The original agreement is not in the estate. It was transferred to an independent safe deposit facility under a separate legal authority.
I looked at the date.
It had been written three days before my mother died.
I turned toward Eleanor.
"Did you know she had a safe deposit box?""
Grandma shook her head.
"No.""
I called Daniel.
He answered immediately.
"Adrian?""
"I found more documents. My mother may have been investigating suspicious financial activity before she died.""
Daniel became silent.
"Do you have anything suggesting foul play?""
I looked at the notebook.
"There's a reference to medication and a doctor.""
"Don't jump to conclusions. We need records, not assumptions.""
"I know.""
"Send me photographs of everything. I'll contact the relevant authorities and see what medical records can legally be obtained.""
I ended the call.
Eleanor held my hand.
"Adrian, I should have protected her.""
I looked at my grandmother.
"You couldn't have known.""
"I should have asked more questions.""
I squeezed her fingers.
"Grandma, listen to me. Whatever happened, we will find out.""
She nodded.
Then she looked toward the door.
"There's something else.""
"What?""
"Your father came here yesterday.""
I frowned.
"Why?""
"He asked whether I had found your mother's old notebook.""
My stomach tightened.
"What did you tell him?""
"I said I hadn't.""
"Did he believe you?""
She shook her head.
"He searched the bedroom.""
I stood.
"He searched your bedroom?""
"Yes.""
I looked at the wooden box.
My father knew the notebook existed.
He knew my mother had left something behind.
And he was now searching for it.
"Grandma, did he take anything?""
Eleanor pointed toward the photograph.
"He took the picture of your mother that was on the dresser.""
I looked at the photograph in my hand.
"Why?""
"I don't know.""
I called Martin and asked him to check the security footage.
While we waited, I continued reading the notebook.
Near the back, I found an envelope tucked between two pages.
It contained a small receipt.
The date matched the day my mother died.
The transaction was for a private medical consultation.
The patient's name was Patricia Cole.
But the payment had not come from our family account.
It had been made by a company I recognized from the USB records.
The same company Natalie controlled.
I stared at the receipt.
Why would Natalie's company have paid for a medical consultation for my mother years before Natalie and I had met?
That made no sense.
I called Daniel again.
He asked me to read the company name aloud.
When I did, he went silent.
"Adrian, that's important.""
"Why?""
"Because the company registration records show that it wasn't originally owned by Natalie.""
"Who owned it?""
Daniel took a breath.
"Your father.""
I looked at the receipt again.
My father had paid for a private medical consultation for my mother through a company that would later become Natalie's.
And the date was the day she died.
Before I could ask another question, Martin returned.
"Mr. Cole, I found the footage.""
"Show me.""
He opened the security recording.
My father entered Eleanor's bedroom at 3:12 p.m. the previous afternoon.
He walked directly to the dresser.
He took the photograph.
Then he opened the bottom drawer and removed something small.
A folded piece of paper.
I leaned toward the screen.
"Can you zoom in?""
Martin enlarged the image.
The paper had a distinctive blue border.
It looked exactly like the receipt I was holding.
My father had taken another copy.
And as he left the room, he did something that made my blood run cold.
May you like
He looked directly into the camera.
Then he smiled.
