Chapter 4: The Locked File
Vanessa disappeared before I could cross the street.
One second she was standing beside the black SUV, watching me.
The next, the vehicle pulled away.
I started the Lamborghini.
Nia climbed into the passenger seat.
“Follow her?”” she asked.
“No.””
She looked surprised.
“I need facts first.””
“Good answer.””
I pulled away from the restaurant and drove toward my father's office.
For the first ten minutes, neither of us spoke.
My mind kept returning to the photograph.
Marcus.
Alive.
Three days ago.
Seven years of grief suddenly felt like a room whose walls had been moved while I was asleep.
At a red light, Nia finally broke the silence.
“What's your father like?””
“Successful.””
“That wasn't my question.””
I glanced at her.
“He's controlling.””
“Does he scare you?””
I thought about it.
“He used to.””
“And now?””
“Now I'm not sure.””
The light turned green.
I accelerated.
My father's headquarters occupied twelve floors of glass and steel downtown. The lobby receptionist recognized me immediately.
“Mr. Cole.””
“I need access to the executive archive.””
Her smile vanished.
“I'm sorry?””
“My father's private records.””
“I don't have authorization for that.””
“I’m his son.””
“Yes, sir.””
“And I'm also a shareholder.””
“I understand.””
“Then call him.””
She hesitated.
Nia leaned toward me.
“Adrian, maybe don't announce exactly what you're looking for.””
I nodded.
“Call him.””
The receptionist picked up the phone.
After a short conversation, she hung up.
“Mr. Cole says you're not permitted upstairs.””
I stared at her.
“He said that?””
“Yes.””
“Did he ask why I was here?””
“No.””
That bothered me.
He hadn't even asked.
He already knew.
I turned my chair toward the elevator.
“Then I'll wait here.””
Nia looked at me.
“For how long?””
“Until someone gets nervous.””
It took eleven minutes.
Then the elevator opened.
My father's attorney, Daniel Reeves, stepped out.
He was sixty, silver-haired, immaculate, and carrying a leather folder.
“Adrian.””
“Daniel.””
His eyes dropped briefly to my wheelchair.
“You shouldn't be here.””
“Funny. Everyone keeps saying that.””
He ignored the remark.
“Your father isn't available.””
“Then you're going to answer my questions.””
“About?””
“Marcus.””
Daniel went completely still.
That was enough.
I pointed at the chair beside him.
“Sit.””
He remained standing.
“Adrian, grief can cause people to interpret things—”
“Is my brother alive?””
His mouth opened.
No answer.
Nia whispered, “That's not a no.””
Daniel looked at her.
“Who are you?””
“Nia.””
“She has nothing to do with this.””
“I disagree,” Nia said.
Daniel looked back at me.
“Your father wants you to go home.””
“My father doesn't get to tell me where I go anymore.””
“You're not thinking clearly.””
“I haven't thought clearly for seven years.””
That silenced him.
I reached into my jacket and pulled out my phone.
I showed him the photograph.
His face drained of color.
“Where did you get that?””
“Does it matter?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
Daniel looked around the lobby.
“Not here.””
“Then upstairs.””
He hesitated.
“Your father explicitly prohibited you from accessing the seventh-floor archive.””
I stared at him.
“Why?””
“Because there are confidential corporate records.””
“About Marcus?””
Daniel didn't answer.
I moved closer.
“Daniel.””
He lowered his voice.
“Your brother didn't die in that accident.””
Nia inhaled sharply.
I felt the world tilt.
“You knew?””
“I knew there were complications.””
“What complications?””
Daniel looked toward the security desk.
Then back at me.
“Your father told me Marcus was alive.””
“When?””
“Seven years ago.””
My fingers tightened around the wheelchair.
“And you did nothing?””
“I was under instructions.””
“From my father?””
“Yes.””
I laughed once.
It sounded hollow.
“What did he tell you?””
“That Marcus had left voluntarily.””
“Why?””
Daniel swallowed.
“Because he had discovered something.””
“What?””
“I don't know.””
“You're lying.””
“I swear I'm not.””
I leaned forward.
“What happened to the accident?””
Daniel looked down.
“There was an accident.””
“So Marcus was there?””
“Yes.””
“Was he injured?””
“Yes.””
“Then what?””
Daniel's voice dropped.
“He survived.””
My heart hammered.
“Where is he?””
“I don't know.””
“You're his attorney.””
“Not anymore.””
“When did you stop representing him?””
“Three days after the accident.””
“Why?””
Daniel's eyes flicked toward the elevator.
“Because your father made sure I couldn't ask questions.””
I stared at him.
“Why would my father hide my brother?””
“I don't know.””
“You keep saying that.””
“Because I don't have the answer.””
He opened the leather folder.
Inside was a single photocopied document.
He handed it to me.
The page was an old hospital discharge record.
Patient: Marcus Cole.
Status: *Transferred.*
I looked at the date.
Two days after the crash.
“Transferred where?””
Daniel shook his head.
“The destination was removed from the copy.””
“Who removed it?””
“Your father.””
Nia leaned closer.
“Why would a hospital allow that?””
“It didn't,” Daniel said.
“That's the problem.””
My stomach tightened.
I looked at him.
“What happened?””
Daniel closed the folder.
“Your father paid someone.””
“Who?””
“I don't know.””
“Daniel.””
“I don't know!””
His voice echoed through the lobby.
Everyone looked at us.
He immediately lowered his voice.
“I'm sorry.””
I stared at the document.
Then I noticed something written in the bottom corner.
A handwritten number.
Seven digits.
I recognized the area code.
It was local.
“What's this?””
Daniel looked at it.
His expression changed.
“I've never seen that.””
“Then why is it on the file?””
“I don't know.””
Nia took a photograph of it.
“Let's call it.””
Daniel grabbed my wrist.
“Don't.””
I looked at him.
“Why?””
“Because if that number still belongs to the person I think it does, calling it could put you in danger.””
“Who is it?””
Daniel released my wrist.
“A private investigator.””
My heart sank.
“Who hired him?””
Daniel whispered, “Marcus.””
Before I could respond, the elevator doors opened.
My father stepped out.
He wore a charcoal suit and carried no briefcase.
He looked at me.
Then at Daniel.
Then at the document in my hand.
His face hardened.
“Where did you get that?””
I smiled.
“Hello, Dad.””
He didn't return the greeting.
“Give me the file.””
“No.””
“Adrian.””
“Tell me where Marcus is.””
His jaw tightened.
“You're confused.””
“Daniel told me.””
My father turned toward the attorney.
Daniel looked away.
“You betrayed me,” my father said.
Daniel said nothing.
I raised my phone.
“Was Marcus alive when you told me he was dead?””
My father stared at me.
Seconds passed.
Then he said something I never expected.
“Yes.””
Nia went silent.
I couldn't breathe.
My father stepped closer.
“I did what I had to do.””
“What did you do?””
“To protect this family.””
“What did you do to Marcus?””
He looked at me.
“I didn't hurt him.””
“Then why did you bury him?””
“I didn't bury him.””
“You let me mourn him.””
“I thought it was necessary.””
“Necessary for what?””
My father didn't answer.
Then his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
The color drained from his face.
He answered.
“Who is this?””
A man's voice came through faintly.
My father froze.
I watched him listen.
Then he whispered:
“You were supposed to stay gone.””
My blood ran cold.
My father ended the call.
I stared at him.
“Was that Marcus?””
He looked at me.
May you like
And for the first time in my life, my father looked afraid.
“Yes.””