Chapter 9: The Last Lie
I didn't run.
I couldn't.
Tasha was sitting less than twenty feet away, with Robert Whitmore holding a gun against her head.
My father raised both hands.
"Robert, let her go.""
Robert pressed the weapon harder.
"Stay back.""
Marcus stepped forward.
"Take me.""
Robert laughed.
"I've had enough of you.""
"She's innocent.""
"Everyone is innocent when it becomes convenient.""
One of the police officers spoke calmly.
"Mr. Whitmore, lower your weapon.""
Robert turned toward him.
"Do you know who I am?""
The officer didn't move.
"Yes.""
"I'm the man who built this company.""
"And you're the man who's going to prison.""
Robert laughed.
Then he looked at me.
"Your father was never supposed to come back.""
I felt my heart pounding.
"What did you do to him?""
Robert's expression became almost pleasant.
"Ask him.""
I looked at my father.
He was staring at Robert.
"Tell her," Robert said.
My father lowered his hands slightly.
"Robert, don't.""
"Tell her what happened twelve years ago.""
I turned toward my father.
"What happened?""
He looked at me.
Then he took a slow breath.
"The night I disappeared, I was driving home.""
Robert smiled.
"Go on.""
"I had copies of the financial records. I was going to give them to the authorities.""
My father looked down.
"Someone followed me.""
I remembered the funeral.
The flowers.
The closed coffin.
My mother crying in the front row.
My father continued.
"Another vehicle forced me off the road. I survived, but I was badly injured. When I woke up, Robert's people were waiting for me.""
I stared.
"They told me your mother and both girls would be killed if I contacted you.""
My throat tightened.
"So you disappeared.""
He nodded.
"I thought I was protecting you.""
Robert smiled.
"An arrangement that worked beautifully.""
My father turned toward him.
"You told me you had killed my family.""
Robert's smile disappeared.
"I told you what you needed to believe.""
I looked at Robert.
"You made us bury an empty coffin.""
"Yes.""
"You made my mother believe her husband was dead.""
"She was safer that way.""
I shook my head.
"You're a monster.""
Robert's expression hardened.
"Careful, young woman. You have no idea what your father did.""
He looked toward Marcus.
"Tell him about the accident.""
My father closed his eyes.
Robert continued.
"James was driving the car that killed my brother.""
Marcus looked confused.
"What?""
My father stepped forward.
"That's not true.""
Robert laughed.
"Then why did you take the money?""
My father shook his head.
"I never took your money.""
Robert gestured toward Richard.
"Show them.""
Richard was on his knees, surrounded by officers.
He looked at Robert.
Then at the police.
For a moment, I thought he would remain silent.
Instead, he began laughing.
A bitter, exhausted laugh.
"You really think I'm going to protect you?""
Robert's face changed.
Richard continued.
"You promised me protection. You promised Vanessa the company. You promised Olivia Marcus's fortune.""
Olivia began crying.
"Richard, stop.""
He ignored her.
"And you promised me the money from the original accounts. But you moved everything into your private foundations.""
Robert raised his voice.
"Shut up!""
Richard looked toward the officers.
"Check the Cayman accounts. The money is still there.""
The officers exchanged glances.
Robert's grip on Tasha loosened slightly.
It was the opening we needed.
My father moved.
He lunged toward Robert's arm.
The gun fired.
A deafening crack filled the warehouse.
Tasha screamed.
My father fell to the ground.
"DAD!""
I ran.
Marcus grabbed Robert from behind.
The gun skidded across the concrete.
Two officers tackled Robert.
Another rushed toward my father.
I dropped beside him.
Blood spread across his shirt.
His eyes were open.
"Nia?""
I grabbed his hand.
"I'm here.""
"Where's Tasha?""
"She's safe.""
He tried to smile.
"Good.""
The paramedic arrived seconds later.
They pressed gauze against his wound and prepared a stretcher.
I climbed into the ambulance.
Marcus followed.
Tasha was taken into another vehicle with an officer.
As the ambulance doors closed, I looked at my father.
His face was pale.
"Don't you dare die again," I whispered.
He squeezed my hand.
"I'll try.""
The hospital waiting room smelled of disinfectant and cold coffee.
I sat beside Tasha.
She had a blanket around her shoulders and a small cut on her cheek.
I held her hand.
"I'm sorry.""
She shook her head.
"You came for me.""
"Of course I did.""
She leaned against my shoulder.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then she asked, "Is Dad going to be okay?""
I looked toward the operating room.
"I don't know.""
Marcus approached.
His wedding suit was stained with dust.
He sat across from us.
"Your father is in surgery. The doctors say the bullet missed his heart.""
I exhaled.
"Thank you.""
Marcus nodded.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
"Yes?""
His expression changed.
"What do you mean?""
He listened.
Then he stood.
"Where?""
He ended the call.
"What happened?"" I asked.
"Police searched the warehouse.""
"And?""
"They found the original company records. The ledger wasn't the only evidence.""
He rubbed his forehead.
"There were recordings. Financial statements. Emails. Everything.""
I felt a strange sense of relief.
"Then it's over?""
Marcus hesitated.
"Almost.""
"What does that mean?""
"Robert has been arrested. Vanessa, Olivia, and Richard are also in custody.""
I stared at him.
"Then what's left?""
He looked toward the hospital corridor.
"Someone helped Robert disappear twelve years ago. Someone forged the death certificate, arranged the funeral, and created the false records.""
"Who?""
Marcus shook his head.
"We don't know yet.""
Then his phone rang again.
This time, it was Paul.
Marcus answered.
"Tell me.""
Paul spoke for several seconds.
Marcus's expression slowly hardened.
"What?""
He looked at me.
Then he said, "That's impossible.""
He ended the call.
"What is it?"" I asked.
Marcus lowered his voice.
"Robert's attorney has produced a document.""
"What document?""
"A death certificate.""
I frowned.
"For whom?""
Marcus stared at me.
"For Robert Whitmore.""
I didn't understand.
"He was alive. We saw him.""
"I know.""
"Then why would there be another death certificate?""
Marcus swallowed.
"Because the original document says he died twelve years ago.""
I stared at him.
Then the truth began to settle over me.
Someone had been maintaining two identities.
One dead.
One alive.
And someone had made the official records look convincing enough to fool everyone.
Marcus took out his phone and showed me a photograph of the document.
The signature at the bottom belonged to the physician who had supposedly certified Robert's death.
Dr. Samuel Whitmore.
I looked at Marcus.
"Who is that?""
He closed his eyes.
"My uncle.""
I felt cold.
Marcus continued.
"He died five years ago.""
I looked at the signature again.
Then I noticed the date.
The death certificate had been filed only three days ago.
Three days.
Someone had recently reactivated the old identity.
Someone was still protecting Robert.
And whoever it was knew exactly how to make a dead man disappear.
Before I could speak, the hospital doors opened.
A woman in a dark blue coat entered.
She approached the reception desk.
Then she looked directly at me.
I recognized her immediately.
Denise.
My supervisor at the Grand Meridian.
She was holding a large envelope.
And she was crying.
"Nia," she whispered.
I stood.
"Denise? What are you doing here?""
She handed me the envelope.
"I should have told you years ago.""
I looked down.
Inside was an old photograph of my father.
Beside him stood Denise.
And between them was a little girl.
Me.
May you like
On the back, someone had written:
*The night James Carter was declared dead, Denise was the last person to see him alive.*
