Chapter 6 - The Empty House
By evening, my father was gone.
Police found my parents’ house unlocked.
His passport was missing.
So was the black flash drive.
His laptop had been removed from the study.
One suitcase was gone.
My mother sat in the kitchen answering questions.
Mark claimed he did not know where Dad had gone.
Carla hired an attorney before police finished their first interview.
And I remained trapped in a hospital bed with stitches, swollen ankles, two newborns, and grief so deep I sometimes forgot to breathe.
At eleven that night, Margaret returned with news.
“The judge granted the temporary protective order.”
I nearly sagged with relief.
“What does that mean?”
“Your father, mother, Mark, and Carla cannot remove the babies or enter this hospital floor without authorization.”
“My mother too?”
“For now.”
I hated hearing it.
But I understood.
Margaret sat beside me.
“There is also a temporary order preventing changes to the twins’ trust.”
“Good.”
“However, your father’s competency petition still exists.”
“Can he win?”
“If he convinces a judge that you cannot safely manage your affairs, potentially.”
I laughed bitterly.
“I gave birth five hours ago.”
“I know.”
“Apparently crying after my husband dies is now evidence of incompetence.”
“It can be twisted.”
She looked directly at me.
“That is why you must stop thinking of your father as your father when we are dealing with him legally.”
I looked at Noah.
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“By remembering he already stopped treating you like a daughter.”
The words hurt because they were true.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I expected another threat.
Instead I received a short video.
The image showed Ethan sitting at his desk in our home office.
The date stamp was eleven days earlier.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I pressed play.
Ethan looked directly into the camera.
“Claire, if you’re seeing this, somebody accessed the contingency folder.”
I stopped breathing.
He continued.
“I hope that person is you.”
His face looked tired.
Older somehow.
“I found proof that the theft from Walker Development goes back much further than we thought.”
He looked down at something.
“And I found something about your father that I still don’t understand.”
The video suddenly skipped.
Static filled the screen.
Then Ethan returned.
“If I’m right, this did not start when Mark joined my company.”
Another skip.
“It started before I met you.”
I stared at the phone.
“What?”
Margaret moved beside me.
The final seconds played.
Ethan leaned toward the camera.
“Claire, I need you to ask one question.”
He paused.
“Who introduced us?”
The video ended.
I knew the answer immediately.
Eight years earlier, Ethan and I had met at a charity auction in Sun Valley.
At least that was what I had always believed.
But there had been one person who insisted I attend.
One person who told me exactly where to sit.
One person who introduced Ethan to our table.
May you like
My father.
*
