Emily picked up the key.
The metal was warm.
Someone had just dropped it.
She looked toward the corridor.
The doctors were still working inside Daniel's room.
Margaret was crying.
Charles had disappeared.
Emily closed her fist around the key.
Then she looked at the room number.
317.
Her father had written it twice.
Once on paper.
Once through his eyes.
But if the key was numbered 317, it could not belong to the room itself.
It belonged somewhere else.
She walked downstairs.
The hospital had three wings.
Room 317 was in the east wing.
The west wing had been renovated years ago.
The basement had storage rooms numbered according to old ward sections.
Emily found a directory near the service elevator.
She followed the signs.
Basement level.
Archive storage.
Records.
She hesitated before opening the door.
The hallway smelled of dust and disinfectant.
Fluorescent lights flickered overhead.
She found a row of old metal lockers.
Most had labels.
One did not.
Number 317.
Emily inserted the key.
The lock clicked.
Inside was a black leather folder.
No name.
No date.
Just a red line across the cover.
She opened it.
The first page was a photocopy of a police report.
Thomas Mercer.
Missing.
The second page concerned Edward Hale.
Fatal accident.
The third page was Daniel's financial statement from twenty-three years earlier.
Emily read it twice.
Then she saw the signature.
It was not Daniel's.
Someone had forged it.
She turned the page.
There were bank transfers.
Dates.
Account numbers.
Names.
One name appeared again and again.
Margaret Mercer.
Emily stopped breathing.
Her mother.
She turned the page quickly.
There were dozens of transactions.
Some were small.
Some were enormous.
All had been authorized using Margaret's name.
Emily whispered, "No."
A voice came from behind her.
"You finally found it."
Emily spun around.
Charles stood in the doorway.
She stepped back.
"You knew this was here."
"Yes."
"You knew my mother's name was in these records."
"Yes."
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't know whether the records were real."
Emily held up the folder.
"They are."
"Not necessarily."
"What do you mean?"
Charles walked closer.
"The records prove someone wanted your mother to look guilty."
Emily stared at the pages.
"But her signature."
"Look carefully."
She did.
The signature looked right.
Too right.
Every letter had been copied.
The pressure was wrong.
The final stroke repeated exactly.
Emily looked up.
"Forgery."
Charles nodded.
"Someone spent years making your mother the perfect suspect."
"Why?"
"Because she was the only person who knew enough to expose the truth."
Emily's heart pounded.
"What did she know?"
Charles looked toward the door.
"That Daniel never betrayed Thomas."
"Then who did?"
Charles did not answer.
Emily felt anger rising.
"Stop protecting everyone."
"I'm not."
"You've been protecting secrets for twenty-three years."
Charles looked exhausted.
"I've been protecting you."
"Everyone says that."
"Because it's true."
Emily threw the folder onto the table.
"My father is dying."
"I know."
"My mother is terrified."
"I know."
"Someone is threatening me."
"I know."
"Then tell me the truth."
Charles closed his eyes.
"The person who stole the money wasn't Thomas."
Emily waited.
"It wasn't Daniel."
She waited.
"It wasn't your mother."
He looked at her.
"It was me."
Emily stared.
The room seemed to lose all sound.
Charles continued before she could speak.
"I moved the money."
"Why?"
"Because Thomas told me to."
"Why would he do that?"
"To hide it from someone."
"Who?"
Charles looked at the folder.
"Edward."
Emily frowned.
"Edward was the accountant."
"He wasn't only the accountant."
Charles took a slow breath.
"He was blackmailing Thomas."
"With what?"
"Proof that Thomas had been laundering money through several companies."
Emily stared.
"So Grandpa was guilty."
"Yes."
The word landed quietly.
Not dramatically.
Almost worse because of that.
"He stole money."
"Some of it."
"And blamed Dad?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because Daniel found out."
Emily looked toward the folder.
"And Edward?"
"Edward planned to go to the authorities."
"Did Thomas kill him?"
"No."
"Did you?"
Charles shook his head.
"Edward died before I reached him."
"Then who killed him?"
Charles looked at her.
"I never found out."
Emily thought of the photograph.
September 14.
The missing man.
The dead accountant.
The forged signature.
The money.
Everything seemed connected.
But one piece remained.
"Where is Thomas now?"
Charles lowered his head.
"Dead."
"Who killed him?"
"I don't know."
Emily's phone vibrated.
Another message.
She looked down.
COME UPSTAIRS.
ROOM 317.
She frowned.
The sender was not unknown.
It was Daniel's phone.
She looked at Charles.
"He just texted me."
Charles went pale.
"Your father doesn't have his phone."
Emily stared at the screen.
A second message appeared.
BRING THE FOLDER.
Emily ran.
Charles followed.
They reached the third floor.
Daniel's room was surrounded by nurses.
Margaret stood outside.
Emily approached.
"Mom."
Margaret looked at her.
"Where were you?"
Emily held up the folder.
"Finding this."
Margaret saw the papers.
Her face changed.
"Where did you get that?"
"Basement."
Margaret shook her head.
"No."
"What?"
"I burned that."
Emily stared.
"You burned it?"
"Years ago."
"Then how is it there?"
Margaret stepped closer.
Her voice dropped.
"Because that isn't the original."
Emily opened the folder.
"What?"
Margaret touched the paper.
"This copy is different."
She pointed to a transaction.
"The account number."
Emily looked.
Margaret whispered, "That account didn't exist in 2003."
Charles stared at the page.
Emily felt the fear return.
Someone had created a new copy.
Recently.
Someone wanted them to find it.
A nurse came through the door.
"Mrs. Mercer?"
Margaret turned.
"The doctor needs you."
"Why?"
The nurse looked uncomfortable.
"Your husband is awake."
Emily hurried into the room.
Daniel's eyes were open.
His breathing was weak.
Emily sat beside him.
"Who sent me the messages?"
Daniel stared at her.
Then he looked toward the door.
Emily turned.
No one.
She looked back.
"Did you send them?"
Daniel slowly shook his head.
"Then who?"
He reached for her hand.
His fingers barely closed around it.
He whispered one word.
"Margaret."
Emily looked at her mother.
Margaret stood frozen.
"No," she said.
Daniel closed his eyes.
Emily's voice trembled.
"Dad, what about Mom?"
Daniel struggled for breath.
Then he whispered.
"Not…"
He stopped.
Emily leaned closer.
"Not what?"
His eyes opened.
"Not your mother."
Emily waited.
Daniel's gaze shifted toward Charles.
Then toward the folder.
Then back to Emily.
"Her sister."
Emily frowned.
"My mother doesn't have a sister."
Margaret's face went white.
Charles whispered, "That's impossible."
Daniel's eyes filled with tears.
He forced out the final words.
"She did."
Emily stared at her mother.
Margaret covered her mouth.
The hospital door opened behind them.
A woman stood in the hallway.
She was older.
Silver-haired.
Elegant.
And carrying two shopping bags from Harrods and Liberty.
Emily looked at the woman.
Margaret began to shake.
Charles whispered the name.
"Claire."
The woman smiled sadly.
"Hello, Margaret."
Daniel's monitor began to beep faster.
Emily looked from the stranger to her mother.
Claire stepped into the room.
"I suppose it's time you finally knew why your mother told everyone I was dead."
Click Here to continue read next: PART5: The Woman Everyone Believed Had Died Returns to the Hospital, and Margaret Must Finally Explain the Sister She Erased From Every Family Photograph
The Visitor Arrived Carrying Two Expensive Shopping Bags, Yet Her Father Had Asked Everyone to Keep Her Away From His Hospital Room
Part 4 of 16
