Chapter 9: The Truth About My Mother's Last Days
My father didn't sleep that night.
Neither did I.
At breakfast, he sat across from me with two untouched cups of coffee.
For several minutes, he stared at the table.
Then he spoke.
"Emily, I think it's time you knew everything.""
I put down my spoon.
"About Mom?""
He nodded.
"Before your mother died, she was investigating some missing money from her investment accounts.""
"Was it Victoria?""
"No. I hadn't met Victoria yet.""
I frowned.
"Then who?""
My father looked toward the window.
"Michael Hayes.""
Victoria's brother.
The same man whose voice we had heard in the recording.
My father explained that Michael had been introduced to Sarah through a charitable foundation.
He offered to help manage some of her investments.
At first, everything appeared legitimate.
Then small amounts began disappearing.
My mother noticed.
She contacted her bank and requested an audit.
A few weeks later, she discovered that several investment documents had been altered.
"Did she tell you?""
My father nodded.
"She told me she was worried. But I was working overseas, and she didn't want me to panic.""
I looked down.
"Was that why she changed the will?""
"Partly.""
He took a breath.
"She wanted you to have someone independent who could protect your inheritance.""
I swallowed.
"What happened to Michael?""
My father looked at Rachel, who had just entered the kitchen.
"That's what we're trying to establish.""
Rachel placed a folder on the table.
"We've received additional records from Margaret.""
She opened it.
Inside were copies of letters written by my mother.
The first was dated six months before her death.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
I recognized the way she formed the letter E.
Rachel read a short passage.
"Michael insists that the transfers were mistakes. I no longer trust his explanations. Daniel must know if anything happens to me.""
My father closed his eyes.
Rachel turned another page.
"This letter was written three weeks later.""
She continued.
"Michael has asked me to sign new documents. I refused. I have arranged for Emily's inheritance to be protected by Margaret. I only hope Daniel understands why I am doing this.""
I felt tears gathering.
"Did Mom know she was going to die?""
My father shook his head.
"No, sweetheart.""
He reached for my hand.
"She was trying to protect you. She believed she had time.""
Rachel turned to another document.
"This is where the situation becomes more complicated.""
She placed a medical report on the table.
My father looked at it.
His face changed.
"What is this?""
Rachel answered.
"Your wife's hospital admission record.""
I stared at the page.
My mother had been admitted to hospital shortly before she died.
I knew that.
But I had never seen the medical documents.
Rachel pointed to a section.
"There is a note indicating that Sarah requested a copy of her medication records. She also reported concerns about an unexplained change in her prescribed treatment.""
My father looked stunned.
"She never told me that.""
Rachel continued.
"According to the notes, she believed someone had interfered with her medication.""
I felt cold.
"Was someone trying to hurt Mom?""
My father immediately pulled me closer.
"We don't know that.""
Rachel spoke carefully.
"These records do not prove that anyone harmed Sarah. But they raise questions that deserve professional review.""
My father looked at the documents.
"Can we have her case examined?""
"Yes. We'll need the original medical records and an independent expert.""
I stared at the photograph of my mother on the table.
For years, I had believed she died because she was sick.
Now I was learning that she had been afraid.
And she had been trying to protect me.
That afternoon, Margaret arrived.
I recognized her immediately from the old photographs.
She had the same dark hair as my mother.
The same gentle eyes.
The moment she saw me, she dropped her handbag.
"Emily!""
She knelt and opened her arms.
I stood still.
I wanted to hug her.
But I was afraid.
What if she disappeared too?
Margaret understood.
She didn't force me.
She simply held out her hand.
"Can I give you a hug?""
I nodded.
She wrapped her arms around me.
And I cried.
She cried too.
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart.""
I held onto her coat.
"Why didn't you come sooner?""
Her face crumpled.
"I tried. I promise I tried.""
She took a small box from her handbag.
Inside were twelve birthday cards.
One for every birthday since she had last seen me.
There were also photographs.
Letters.
And a little silver bracelet my mother had bought before she died.
Margaret placed it in my hand.
"Your mother wanted you to have this when you turned thirteen.""
I looked at it.
My birthday was only two months away.
I pressed the bracelet against my chest.
"Thank you.""
Margaret smiled through her tears.
Then she looked at my father.
"Daniel, we need to talk.""
They went into the study with Rachel.
I stayed in the living room.
Brandon came downstairs a few minutes later.
He sat on the opposite sofa.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then he said:
"Mom's not coming back, is she?""
I shrugged.
"I don't know.""
He looked at his hands.
"She's always been like this.""
I turned toward him.
"What do you mean?""
He took a breath.
"When Dad left, Mom used to tell me that people only cared about money. She said if we didn't take care of ourselves, nobody else would.""
I listened.
"She told me Emily's inheritance was supposed to be ours because we were a family.""
I stared at him.
"Why did you believe her?""
He shrugged.
"Because she's my mom.""
Then his eyes filled.
"I knew she was being mean to you. I just didn't think it was that bad.""
I looked at him.
"You laughed when I was hungry.""
He lowered his head.
"I know.""
"You told me nobody would believe me.""
"I know.""
I took a breath.
"I'm not ready to forgive you.""
He nodded.
"I understand.""
For once, he didn't argue.
That evening, Rachel received a call from the financial investigator.
She listened for several minutes.
Then she looked toward my father.
"We found Michael.""
My father stood.
"Where?""
"He's been using a business account registered under another company name.""
"Can you trace the money?""
"Some of it. But there's something else.""
Rachel paused.
"Michael has already hired an attorney.""
My father frowned.
"Why?""
"Because he has filed a legal claim against the estate.""
I stared at her.
"What does that mean?""
Rachel looked at my father.
"He claims Sarah owed him money for financial services and that the original will was never valid.""
My father shook his head.
"That's nonsense.""
"Perhaps. But he's requesting access to the original documents.""
Margaret stood.
"He cannot have them.""
Rachel nodded.
"Which is why we need to secure the original will immediately.""
The investigator called again.
This time, he had news about Victoria's safe.
It had been opened under the supervision of the relevant authorities after a preservation request was granted.
Inside were several documents.
A passport.
Bank records.
And a sealed envelope addressed to me.
My name was written in my mother's handwriting.
*To my daughter, Emily. Open when you are old enough to understand.*
My hands began shaking.
"Can I read it?""
Rachel looked at my father.
He nodded.
She opened the envelope carefully.
Inside was a letter.
My mother had written it three days before she died.
The first line made me cry before I even finished reading it.
My darling Emily, if you are reading this, I hope you are surrounded by people who love you.
I continued.
There is something I want you to remember. Never believe that money makes you worthy of love. Never allow anyone to make you feel that you are less important because you are a child.
I wiped my eyes.
Then I reached the final paragraph.
If anything happens to me, trust Margaret. She knows the truth about Michael. And if Daniel ever discovers what happened to me, tell him to look at the date on the hospital records.
I looked up.
Rachel immediately examined the letter.
"What date?""
I handed it to her.
She compared it with the medical report.
Then she froze.
My father stood.
"What?""
Rachel looked at him.
"The hospital record says Sarah was admitted on March 14.""
My father nodded.
"Yes.""
Rachel pointed to my mother's letter.
"But this letter is dated March 17.""
Silence.
My father stared at the page.
"That's impossible.""
Rachel looked toward the investigator.
"How can someone write a letter three days after the date of death?""
The investigator checked the original file.
Then he said:
"Mr. Carter, according to the hospital records, Sarah was officially pronounced dead on March 14.""
My father gripped the table.
Rachel turned the page.
There was another document inside the envelope.
A handwritten note.
It contained the name of a hospital employee and a date.
March 17.
Then, beneath it, my mother had written:
*I am alive. Someone has told Daniel that I am dead.*
My father stumbled backward.
I stared at the words.
My mother had written that she was alive.
Three days after the date everyone believed she had died.
May you like
And suddenly, the question wasn't just who had stolen her money.
It was whether my mother had really died when we were told she had.
