Chapter 5: The Man at My Wedding
The name on my father's note was not the one I expected.
It wasn't Daniel Price.
It wasn't Vanessa Bennett.
It was Michael Grant.
My attorney.
My best friend.
The man who had helped me build Carter Development Group from a small office with two employees into a company worth more than sixty million dollars.
He'd stood beside me at my wedding yesterday.
He'd adjusted my tie before I walked down the aisle and told me I was finally getting the life I'd worked so hard for.
He'd raised a glass during the reception and promised to protect my interests for as long as he lived.
Now his name sat beneath a note suggesting he knew who had ordered my father's murder.
I stared at the document.
"This has to be wrong.""
Detective Brooks studied the handwriting.
"Do you recognize the signature?""
"Yes. It's my father's.""
"And the name?""
I swallowed.
"Michael Grant is my attorney.""
She glanced at the other officers.
"Is he currently representing you in any financial matters?""
"He's handled almost everything for my company over the past eight years.""
"Does he have access to your corporate records?""
"Yes.""
"Your bank accounts?""
"Some of them.""
"Your office safe?""
I thought about the break-in.
"Yes.""
Detective Brooks folded the document into an evidence sleeve.
"Then we'll need to speak with him.""
I pulled out my phone.
"I'm calling him now.""
"Mr. Carter, I strongly recommend you don't alert him before we understand what this document means.""
I hesitated.
"What if he's innocent?""
"Then he can explain that through the proper channels.""
I looked at my mother.
She stood near the basement stairs, gripping the railing.
"Mom, do you know Michael?""
She nodded slowly.
"I met him years ago. Your father didn't trust him.""
"Why?""
"He said Michael had a talent for making problems disappear.""
I stared at her.
"That's what lawyers do.""
"Not the way your father meant it.""
Detective Brooks motioned to an officer.
"Let's finish documenting the room.""
I stepped away from the table and walked toward a narrow window near the ceiling. Dust floated through the weak afternoon light.
I tried to remember every conversation I'd ever had with Michael.
He'd been the first person I called when I launched my company.
He'd helped negotiate my first major development deal.
He'd sat beside me in the hospital when I had surgery for appendicitis at twenty-two.
When my father died, Michael had been the one who explained the estate paperwork and helped Mom manage the financial fallout.
He had become family.
And if my father's note was genuine, that trust might have been the very thing Michael had exploited.
My phone vibrated.
A message from Michael appeared.
Heard Evelyn is back. Call me immediately. We need to talk before the police get the wrong idea.
I showed Detective Brooks.
She read it twice.
"Don't answer.""
Another message appeared.
Marcus, I'm serious. Your father left something that could destroy your company. If you found it, don't let anyone else see it.
My stomach tightened.
I typed a reply before the detective could stop me.
What did my father leave?
Three dots appeared.
Then vanished.
Then appeared again.
Michael finally responded.
The truth about Thomas Price.
I stared at the screen.
My mother stepped closer.
"He knows.""
Detective Brooks took the phone from my hand and photographed the exchange.
"Mr. Carter, we need to move quickly.""
She called her team and requested surveillance on Michael's home and office. Another officer was sent to verify his current location.
While we waited, the technician continued examining the hidden box.
Beneath the financial records lay a small cassette tape and a photograph of my father standing with a woman I'd never seen before.
She was young, perhaps in her early thirties, with dark hair and a serious expression.
On the back, my father had written:
Thomas's family. Protect the boy.
I turned the photograph over again.
"Mom, who is she?""
Mom examined it carefully.
Then she covered her mouth.
"Oh, God.""
I felt my pulse quicken.
"You know her?""
She nodded.
"Her name was Catherine.""
"Who was she?""
Mom sat down on an old wooden chair.
"Thomas's wife.""
I stared at her.
"Thomas was married?""
"Yes. He had a wife and a daughter.""
My chest tightened.
"A daughter?""
Mom nodded.
"She was born two years before you.""
I looked at the photograph.
"Where is she now?""
"I don't know. After Thomas died, Catherine disappeared. Daniel told everyone she'd moved overseas.""
"Did you believe him?""
"At first. But a few months later, I received a letter from her. She said she had proof that Thomas's death wasn't an accident.""
My mouth went dry.
"What happened to the letter?""
"I gave it to Richard. He told me he'd take care of it.""
I looked down at the photograph.
"Could Catherine still be alive?""
Mom didn't answer.
Detective Brooks approached us.
"We've identified the location of the old cassette player mentioned in the inventory. One of the officers found it in a storage cabinet.""
She placed the cassette on the table.
"Do you recognize this?""
Mom nodded.
"Richard recorded conversations when he thought someone was lying. He didn't trust people easily.""
The detective looked at the technician.
"Can we play it?""
"After we document it and make a forensic copy.""
I watched the technician connect the equipment.
A few minutes later, a low hiss filled the basement.
Then my father's voice emerged.
"If you're hearing this, then I wasn't able to protect my son.""
My heart stopped.
The recording continued.
"Richard Carter speaking. The date is October 17. Daniel believes I have surrendered the trust documents. He is wrong.""
Mom began crying silently.
My father's voice sounded older than I remembered, strained and exhausted.
"Thomas was murdered because he refused to surrender his shares. I have reason to believe Daniel helped arrange it. But Daniel is not the person who gave the order.""
A pause.
Paper rustled.
Then my father continued.
"The person who hired him is someone Marcus knows. Someone he trusts. Someone who has access to every document in his company.""
I looked at Detective Brooks.
She remained completely still.
My father's voice grew quieter.
"I can't say the name here. If this recording is discovered, it means they may already be listening.""
A sharp sound interrupted the tape.
Then another voice spoke.
A woman's voice.
"Richard, you promised me you'd keep him safe.""
I felt the blood drain from my face.
I knew that voice.
I had heard it every day of my childhood.
It belonged to my mother.
But Mom was standing beside me, crying.
The voice on the tape continued.
"If Marcus finds out who his father really was, he'll be in danger. You can't tell him.""
My mother closed her eyes.
I turned toward her.
"Mom?""
She didn't look at me.
"Why were you on this recording?""
Her shoulders shook.
"Because your father asked me to help him.""
"Help him do what?""
She wiped her face.
"Hide the truth.""
I stepped back.
"You knew about all of this?""
"Not everything.""
"But you knew Thomas was my father. You knew Daniel was involved. You knew Dad suspected someone had murdered him.""
"Yes.""
The answer hit me like a physical blow.
"For eighteen years?""
She nodded.
I felt suddenly furious.
"You let me build my entire life on a lie.""
"I was trying to keep you alive.""
"By letting me trust the people who wanted to destroy me?""
Mom flinched.
Detective Brooks intervened.
"Mr. Carter, take a breath.""
I turned away, pressing my palms against my eyes.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to demand answers from every person who had ever claimed to love me.
Instead, I stood in a basement full of secrets and tried to remember what it felt like to know who my family was.
My phone rang.
Michael Grant.
Detective Brooks motioned for me to answer on speaker.
I did.
"Michael.""
His voice sounded strained.
"Marcus, thank God. Where are you?""
"Why?""
"Because I know you've found something.""
I looked at the cassette player.
"What did my father leave behind?""
Silence.
Then Michael sighed.
"Listen to me carefully. Your father made terrible mistakes. He got involved with people he couldn't control. Daniel was only one part of it.""
"Who hired Daniel?""
Another pause.
"You don't understand what you're dealing with.""
"Then explain it.""
"I can't do that over the phone.""
"Where are you?""
"At my office.""
Detective Brooks leaned toward the phone.
"Mr. Grant, this is Detective Angela Brooks with the Atlanta Police Department. We need you to remain at your current location while officers come to speak with you.""
Michael's voice changed immediately.
"Detective, I have nothing to hide.""
"Then you should have no problem cooperating.""
"I'll wait.""
The call ended.
Detective Brooks looked at me.
"We'll send officers to his office. In the meantime, I'd like you and your mother to remain somewhere secure.""
I nodded.
But as we prepared to leave, the technician called out.
"Detective, there's another recording on the tape.""
She turned back.
The technician rewound the cassette and played the final section.
A door slammed.
Footsteps crossed a room.
Then a man spoke.
"Richard, you should have stayed out of it.""
My father's voice answered.
"You killed Thomas.""
"No. I gave him a chance to walk away.""
"And when he refused?""
The other man laughed quietly.
"Then I made sure he couldn't talk.""
A crash followed.
My mother gasped.
I gripped the edge of the table.
Then my father's voice came again, breathless.
"Marcus is my son. You'll never get near him.""
The other man answered with a sentence that made the entire room go silent.
"Marcus isn't your son, Richard. He's mine.""
I stared at the cassette player.
The voice was unmistakable.
Michael Grant.
The man who had been my attorney for eight years.
The man who had stood beside me at my wedding.
The man who had just promised to wait for the police.
Detective Brooks immediately called her team.
"Get to Michael Grant's office now. Do not approach alone. We have probable cause to believe he's connected to the homicide investigation.""
I looked at my mother.
She was trembling.
"Why would Michael say that?"" I whispered.
Mom reached for my hand.
"Because Thomas wasn't your only biological father.""
I turned toward her.
"What?""
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Thomas was the man who raised you for the first two years of your life. Richard adopted you afterward, but the truth is more complicated than I told you.""
I felt the room spin.
"Mom, stop. Just tell me the truth.""
She drew a shaky breath.
"Thomas was your legal father, but he wasn't your biological father.""
I stared at her.
"Then who was?""
She looked toward Detective Brooks.
The detective had gone pale.
Mom whispered the answer.
"Michael Grant.""
Before I could speak, Detective Brooks's phone rang.
She answered, listened, and then turned toward us.
"Michael Grant isn't at his office.""
I felt my stomach drop.
"What do you mean?""
"The officers arrived to find the building empty.""
She paused.
"His car is gone, his phone is switched off, and someone has accessed the evidence room at his office.""
I stared at the cassette player.
My father's voice seemed to echo in my mind.
He's mine.
Detective Brooks looked at the technician.
"Was there anything else on that tape?""
The technician nodded.
"One final sentence. It was almost inaudible.""
She adjusted the equipment and increased the volume.
A faint voice emerged from the speakers.
Michael Grant.
"If Marcus ever discovers the truth, tell him to ask his mother what happened on the night he was born.""
Mom began to sob.
I turned toward her.
"What happened the night I was born?""
May you like
She covered her face.
And for the first time in my life, my mother looked at me as though she was afraid of what I might do when she answered.
