Chapter 11: The Truth About My Father’s Death
I stood in the middle of the apartment, still holding the phone against my ear even though the call had already ended.
Thomas Reed’s words repeated in my mind.
"Your father's death was not just a tragedy."
For ten years, I had lived with one version of the story.
My father became sick.
Doctors tried everything.
He didn’t make it.
My mother held my hand at the funeral and told me that we had to be strong.
I believed her.
Why wouldn’t I?
She was my mother.
She was the person who was supposed to protect me.
But now I was beginning to understand something painful.
The person who raises you can still hide things from you.
Sometimes the people closest to you are the ones who know exactly how to keep the truth away.
Megan walked toward me slowly.
"Jake..."
I looked at her.
"What if everything I knew about my father was a lie?"
She reached for my hand.
"Then we find the truth."
Her answer was simple.
But it gave me strength.
For the first time in days, I didn’t feel like I was fighting alone.
That afternoon, I called Thomas back.
He answered after the first ring.
"I knew you would call."
"I need answers."
"I know."
"No more secrets."
There was a pause.
Then he said:
"Meet me tomorrow."
"Where?"
"Your father's old warehouse."
I froze.
"The warehouse was sold years ago."
"No, Jake."
His voice became serious.
"Your mother wanted people to believe it was gone."
My heart sank.
"What does that mean?"
"It means there are things your mother never found."
The next morning, I left Megan with Linda.
I didn't want her alone.
Not after everything.
Before I left, I kissed her forehead.
"I’ll be back soon."
She looked worried.
"Promise me something."
"What?"
"Don’t let anger control you."
I looked at her.
She knew me too well.
"I just want the truth."
"I know."
She squeezed my hand.
"But the truth hurts sometimes."
I drove across the city, following the address Thomas sent me.
The warehouse sat in an older industrial area.
The paint was faded.
The windows were covered with dust.
It looked abandoned.
But when I stepped inside, I realized someone had been there recently.
A light was on.
"Jake."
I turned around.
An older man stood near the back of the building.
Thomas Reed.
He looked exactly like the person I remembered from my childhood.
My father’s closest friend.
The man who used to bring me gifts on my birthday.
The man who disappeared after my father died.
"You remember me?"
I nodded.
"You were at my father's funeral."
Thomas looked down.
"Yes."
"Then why did you disappear?"
Pain crossed his face.
"Because your mother made sure I did."
I felt my jaw tighten.
"Tell me everything."
Thomas walked toward an old desk.
He opened a drawer.
Inside were dozens of documents.
"My father’s records?"
Thomas nodded.
"Your father discovered your mother had been moving money from the company."
I had heard it before.
But hearing it from him made it real.
"How much?"
"Over several years?"
He hesitated.
"Almost half a million dollars."
I felt sick.
"My mother stole from my father?"
"Yes."
"But why didn't he expose her?"
Thomas looked at me.
"Because he loved you."
That answer hurt.
"He was afraid that if he destroyed your mother publicly, you would lose both parents."
I looked down.
My father had protected me.
Even from the truth.
"What happened next?"
Thomas became quiet.
"Your father planned to confront her one final time."
"When?"
"The night before he became sick."
I froze.
"The night before?"
Thomas nodded.
"He told me he was going to ask your mother to admit everything."
A cold feeling moved through me.
"And then?"
Thomas looked at me.
"The next morning, your father collapsed."
I stared at him.
"Are you saying my mother caused it?"
Thomas shook his head.
"I don't know."
That answer surprised me.
"But I know something happened."
He handed me another document.
"What is this?"
"Your father's medical report."
I looked at the paper.
The date.
The hospital.
Everything matched what I knew.
Then I saw something unusual.
A note at the bottom.
"Patient may have been exposed to an unknown substance prior to admission."
My hands went cold.
"Why didn't I know about this?"
"Because the report was changed."
My head snapped up.
"Changed by who?"
Thomas looked at me.
"Your mother."
The room became silent.
I couldn't speak.
All those years.
All those memories.
My mother had allowed me to believe my father died naturally.
But now there was another possibility.
One I wasn't ready to accept.
Before I could ask another question, Thomas looked toward the warehouse entrance.
His expression changed.
"What is it?"
He whispered:
"We're not alone."
I turned around.
A shadow moved outside the door.
Someone had followed me.
May you like
And whoever it was...
They didn't want me finding the truth.
