Chapter 7: The Date That Should Have Been Impossible
I stared at the date on the back of the photograph until the numbers stopped looking real.
Three days after my mother was supposedly dead.
I ran my thumb over the ink.
“That's her handwriting,” I whispered.
Mr. Harris nodded.
“Yes.””
“Then my mother was alive.””
“For at least three days after the date on the death certificate.””
I looked at Victoria.
She was crying now.
Not the theatrical tears I'd seen so many times when Dad came home.
These looked different.
Messier.
Desperate.
“Where is she?”” I asked.
Victoria didn't answer.
“Where is my mother?””
“I don't know.””
“You're lying.””
“I don't know where she is now.””
“Now?””
My voice cracked.
“You said she disappeared.””
“She did.””
“When?””
“After she left the hospital.””
I looked at Mr. Harris.
“Did Dad know?””
He hesitated.
That hesitation hurt more than any answer.
“You knew,” I said.
“Emma—”
“You knew my mother was alive.””
“I knew there was evidence suggesting she survived the accident.””
“That's not what I asked.””
He lowered his eyes.
“Yes.””
I stepped backward.
“Dad knew?””
Mr. Harris didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, “Your father believed she was dead.””
“Believed?””
“Yes.””
“But you knew she wasn't.””
“I suspected.””
“You suspected my mother was alive and nobody told me?””
“You were a child.””
“I was her daughter.””
His face tightened.
“I know.””
“No, you don't.””
I wiped my tears.
“You all kept secrets from me.””
Victoria suddenly laughed.
A small, bitter sound.
“You think Daniel was protecting you?””
I turned.
“What?””
“He wasn't.””
Mr. Harris snapped, “Victoria, enough.””
She ignored him.
“Ask your father why he went to the hospital that night.””
My stomach dropped.
“Dad went to the hospital?””
“Yes.””
Mr. Harris looked at Victoria sharply.
“How do you know that?””
“Because I drove him.””
The room fell silent.
I couldn't speak.
Victoria continued.
“Daniel arrived before I did.””
“Why?””
“To see your mother.””
“Was she alive?””
“Yes.””
“Did he talk to her?””
Victoria looked at me.
“Yes.””
“What did they say?””
“I don't know.””
“You were there.””
“Outside the room.””
“Then how do you know?””
“Because I heard them.””
I stepped closer.
“What did my mother say?””
Victoria's eyes moved toward the photograph.
“She told him she was leaving.””
“Leaving where?””
“Somewhere he couldn't find her.””
“Why?””
“Because she knew.””
“Knew what?””
Victoria looked at Mr. Harris.
He shook his head.
But she said it anyway.
“She knew Daniel had been hiding money.””
I frowned.
“What money?””
“Your father's company had financial problems.””
Mr. Harris interrupted.
“That's not relevant.””
“It is,” Victoria said.
I looked at him.
“Is it true?””
He sighed.
“Yes.””
“Dad was broke?””
“Not exactly.””
“Then what?””
“His company was facing a major lawsuit. He had significant debts.””
I remembered my father telling me he was working hundreds of miles away to provide for me.
“He said he was working to support us.””
“He was.””
“Then why did Mom want to leave?””
Mr. Harris answered quietly.
“Because she believed someone was using your inheritance to cover your father's debts.””
I froze.
“My inheritance?””
“Yes.””
Victoria nodded.
“Your mother discovered that money had been moved from the trust.””
“By Dad?””
“No.””
“By you?””
She looked away.
“I wasn't involved then.””
“Then who?””
No one answered.
I felt something cold settle in my chest.
“Who had access?””
Mr. Harris closed his briefcase.
“Your mother.””
I stared at him.
“My mother?””
“She was one of the authorized parties before the trust was restructured.””
“So she could see everything.””
“Yes.””
“And she discovered the missing money.””
“Yes.””
I looked at the photograph.
“She tried to protect me.””
“Yes.””
“And someone stopped her.””
Mr. Harris didn't answer.
Victoria whispered, “She wasn't stopped.””
I looked at her.
“She ran.””
“From what?””
“From Daniel.””
I shook my head.
“Dad wouldn't hurt Mom.””
“I didn't say he hurt her.””
“Then why was she afraid of him?””
Victoria's lips trembled.
“Because she knew what he was capable of when his back was against a wall.””
Before I could respond, headlights swept across the living room.
A car pulled into the driveway.
Mr. Harris looked through the window.
“Daniel.””
My heart stopped.
Dad was home.
I ran toward the front door.
Victoria grabbed my arm.
“Don't.””
I pulled away.
“Don't touch me.””
The door opened.
Dad stood there with a travel bag in one hand.
He looked exhausted.
His eyes found mine.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then he dropped the bag.
“Emma.””
I ran into his arms.
He caught me.
I buried my face against his chest.
He smelled like rain, coffee, and the road.
The smell of home.
“Dad.””
His arms tightened around me.
“I’m here.””
“You came.””
“I promised.””
I started crying.
He held me tighter.
“I’m sorry.””
“You didn't know.””
“I should have.””
I pulled away.
“Did you know Mom was alive?””
His face changed.
The question hit him like a physical blow.
“What?””
“Did you know?””
He looked at Mr. Harris.
Then at Victoria.
Then back at me.
“Who told you that?””
I held up the photograph.
Dad stared at it.
His face went white.
“Where did you get this?””
“Victoria had it.””
He took it from my hand.
His fingers began trembling.
“Daniel?”” Mr. Harris said quietly.
Dad didn't respond.
He turned the photograph over.
Read the sentence.
Then sat down.
“Dad?””
He covered his face.
I had never seen him cry before.
Not when Mom died.
Not at her funeral.
Not when I begged him not to leave for work.
But now tears ran between his fingers.
“Dad, what happened?””
He looked at me.
“I thought she was dead.””
“But she wasn't.””
“I didn't know.””
“Then why is her handwriting dated three days later?””
He looked at Mr. Harris.
“Because someone changed the records.””
“Who?””
Dad didn't answer.
“Who?””
He stood.
“I need to show you something.””
He walked to his travel bag.
Opened it.
Removed a sealed envelope.
Then placed it on the table.
“This was sent to me six months after your mother died.””
I stared at it.
“What is it?””
“A letter.””
“From Mom?””
Dad nodded.
I reached for it.
His hand stopped mine.
“Emma, before you read this, you need to understand something.””
“What?””
“If the letter is genuine…”
He looked toward Victoria.
“…then the person who caused your mother's disappearance may still be looking for what she left behind.””
I swallowed.
“What did she leave?””
Dad slowly released the envelope.
“A second trust.””
I opened it.
Inside was a letter.
The first line read:
*Daniel, if Emma is reading this, it means you finally discovered the truth.*
My hands began shaking.
I read the next sentence.
*Do not trust the person who claims she saved you.*
I looked up.
Victoria was no longer crying.
May you like
She was staring at the letter.
And smiling.
