Chapter 4
I drove to the address Marcus gave me.
It was an old office building downtown.
He was waiting in a dark sedan.
When I got out, he studied my face.
“You look like him.”
“My father?”
“Yes.”
He handed me a key.
“What is this?”
“Your father's office.”
I stared at him.
“He kept it after he disappeared.”
“You've been there?”
“For years.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because your father asked me to wait.”
“For what?”
“For you to be old enough to understand what was happening.”
I followed him upstairs.
The office was untouched.
Dust covered the desk.
A calendar from 2010 still hung on the wall.
There were photographs of me as a child.
School pictures.
Birthday pictures.
Christmas mornings.
I touched one.
“He kept these?”
“Every year.”
My eyes filled with tears.
Marcus opened a cabinet.
Inside were dozens of files.
One was labeled:
LINDA MERCER.
Another:
DEREK MERCER.
And another:
EMILY.
I opened mine.
The first page contained medical records from when I was twenty-four.
The second contained financial statements.
The third contained a report from a private investigator.
I read it.
Then I stopped.
“Derek followed me?”
Marcus nodded.
“For how long?”
“Eight months before he proposed.”
My hands shook.
“He didn't meet me by accident.”
“No.”
I turned the page.
There were photographs.
Me leaving work.
Me at a coffee shop.
Me visiting my mother.
Me walking alone.
Then I saw something that made my stomach turn.
A photograph of Derek standing outside my apartment.
The date was three months before our first date.
“He was watching me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because of the trust.”
I closed the file.
“I need to know exactly what happened.”
Marcus opened another folder.
Inside was a recording.
He pressed play.
My father's voice filled the room.
“If Emily is hearing this, Derek has already married her.”
I covered my mouth.
My father's voice continued.
“I tried to stop him.”
A pause.
“He told me he loved her.”
Another pause.
“I don't believe him.”
Then another voice entered.
Derek.
“You don't understand.”
My father answered:
“I understand exactly.”
Derek sounded angry.
“I can take care of her.”
“You mean you can control her.”
Silence.
Then Derek said:
“Linda says she has four months.”
My heart stopped.
My father asked:
“Four months until what?”
Derek answered:
“Until Emily turns thirty.”
The recording ended.
I looked at Marcus.
“What happens when I turn thirty?”
He opened the final page.
“Control of the trust transfers to you.”
I stared at him.
“And if I'm still married?”
“Derek becomes your financial guardian under the agreement Linda forced your father to sign.”
My stomach dropped.
“Guardian?”
“Until the trust is fully transferred.”
I looked at the date.
Four months.
Marcus continued.
“There is one more problem.”
“What?”
“The agreement can be challenged.”
“By who?”
“Linda.”
“Why?”
“Because she claims your father was mentally incompetent when he created the trust.”
I stared at him.
“My father wasn't incompetent.”
“No.”
Marcus looked at me.
“But Linda has a doctor willing to say he was.”
“Who?”
Marcus slid a photograph across the desk.
I recognized the man.
He had been at my wedding.
He had been standing beside Linda.
The family doctor.
Dr. Robert Sloan.
I whispered:
“He treated my father.”
Marcus nodded.
“And six months ago, he signed a statement saying your father was mentally incapable of managing his estate.”
I felt sick.
“That means Linda can challenge the trust.”
“She already has.”
“Then why hasn't she won?”
Marcus looked at me.
“Because your father left one final piece of evidence.”
“What?”
He pointed to my folder.
“The original medical file.”
I opened it.
Inside was a sealed envelope.
My father's handwriting appeared across the front.
OPEN ONLY WHEN EMILY IS READY TO LEAVE DEREK.
I looked at Marcus.
“What's inside?”
He shook his head.
“I don't know.”
I broke the seal.
Inside was a single photograph.
My father stood beside Dr. Sloan.
And behind them was Linda.
But Linda wasn't looking at either man.
She was looking directly at the camera.
And in her hand was a bottle of medication.
May you like
On the back of the photograph, my father had written:
This is why they said I died.
