Chapter 5 - The Night Before His Father Died
Ryan did not sleep.
He sat alone in his car outside St. Matthew’s Hospital until nearly midnight, replaying the anonymous phone call.
Ask your mother what happened on December seventeenth.
December 17.
Four years earlier.
The night before Richard Parker died.
Ryan remembered that week clearly.
His father had seemed nervous.
Distracted.
He canceled Christmas plans.
Locked himself in his office for hours.
At dinner, Richard barely spoke.
The next morning, Patricia found him unconscious in his study.
He was pronounced dead at the hospital.
Heart attack.
Everyone said the stress of running a financial consulting firm had finally caught up with him.
Ryan had believed that explanation.
Until now.
At 7:15 the next morning, Detective Collins called.
“We found your mother.”
Ryan immediately sat upright.
“Where?”
“A hotel near Cherry Creek.”
“Did she run?”
“We’re not calling it that yet.”
Ryan drove to the police station.
Patricia sat inside an interview room.
She looked composed.
Too composed.
Her silver-blonde hair was perfect.
Her cream coat lay neatly over the back of the chair.
When Ryan entered, she looked at him as though he were the one who had disappointed her.
“You look terrible.”
Ryan almost laughed.
“My wife nearly died.”
Patricia sighed.
“I heard she recovered.”
“You heard?”
“She’s alive. Ethan is fine.”
Ryan stared at her.
“That’s all you have to say?”
Patricia folded her hands.
“You’re emotional.”
Ryan leaned forward.
“You walked into my house and found Emma bleeding on the floor.”
“She was conscious when I arrived.”
“She begged you to call an ambulance.”
“She had a phone.”
“You took it.”
Patricia’s eyes narrowed.
“I was trying to prevent her from making a mistake.”
Ryan slammed his palm against the table.
“She was dying!”
Detective Collins, standing near the wall, warned him.
“Ryan.”
He forced himself to sit.
Patricia looked offended rather than frightened.
“She was planning to destroy your family.”
Ryan stared at her.
“You mean divorce me.”
“She was taking Ethan.”
“She had every right to leave.”
Patricia’s face changed.
That sentence seemed to shock her more than anything else.
“You’re defending her?”
Ryan laughed bitterly.
“I abandoned her while she was hemorrhaging.”
“You didn’t know how serious it was.”
“She told me.”
Patricia leaned closer.
“Ryan, listen to yourself. She is manipulating you.”
“No.”
“She has been planning this for months.”
“No, Mom.”
“She hid eighteen million dollars from you!”
“It was hers.”
Patricia stopped.
Ryan saw something in her face.
Not concern.
Anger.
“How did you know about it?”
Patricia said nothing.
Detective Collins stepped forward.
“That’s a question we’d also like answered.”
Patricia looked away.
Ryan leaned closer.
“Was it Dad?”
Silence.
“Did Dad tell you about Emma’s grandmother?”
Patricia’s eyes flickered.
Ryan saw it.
“Victor Lang was outside my house.”
For the first time, Patricia lost control.
Her face paled.
“Who told you that?”
Ryan stared.
“So you know.”
Patricia stood.
“I’m done talking.”
Detective Collins said calmly, “Sit down, Mrs. Parker.”
Patricia grabbed her coat.
“I want an attorney.”
The interview ended.
But Ryan had learned enough.
His mother was afraid of Victor.
Later that afternoon, Ryan went to the storage unit where his father’s personal possessions had been kept after his death.
Boxes filled the small space.
Tax records.
Old photographs.
Business awards.
Family Christmas decorations.
Ryan searched for three hours.
Nothing.
Then he found an old leather briefcase.
Locked.
He almost ignored it.
But one memory stopped him.
As a teenager, Ryan remembered his father saying he always used important dates for combinations.
Ryan entered 1218.
Nothing.
Then 1217.
Click.
The briefcase opened.
Inside were client folders and an old digital voice recorder.
Ryan’s pulse quickened.
There was also a handwritten notebook.
The final pages contained dates.
Names.
Transfers.
Large sums.
Some entries were marked with initials.
V.L.
P.P.
R.P.
Ryan recognized them.
Victor Lang.
Patricia Parker.
Richard Parker.
Then one name stopped him.
Evelyn Parker.
Emma’s grandmother.
Ryan stared.
Beside Evelyn’s name was a handwritten note.
Trust information accessed without authorization. V wants leverage. Patricia knows. Must fix immediately.
Ryan felt the room spin.
His father had known.
He turned the page.
Another note.
December 17 — meeting Victor. Patricia insists I leave it alone. If anything happens, files go to federal investigators.
Ryan’s breathing stopped.
He reached for the voice recorder.
The battery still had a small charge.
He pressed play.
Static.
Then Richard Parker’s voice filled the storage unit.
“If you’re listening to this, something prevented me from completing what I should have done years ago.”
Ryan sat down slowly.
His father continued.
“Victor Lang has been using client information to identify vulnerable estates and trusts.”
Ryan’s hands shook.
“He believes wealthy beneficiaries can be pressured through spouses, debt, divorce, or family influence.”
Ryan closed his eyes.
Emma.
Richard continued.
“I discovered Patricia gave Victor access to information from several accounts.”
Ryan whispered, “Mom…”
“She claims she believed the information was harmless. I no longer believe her.”
Ryan felt nauseated.
Then his father said something Ryan never expected.
“Emma Brooks is one of the beneficiaries on Victor’s list.”
Emma’s maiden name.
Brooks.
Ryan stopped breathing.
This recording had been made before Ryan married Emma.
His father had known about her inheritance years before she did.
Richard’s voice continued.
“If Ryan becomes involved with Emma, I must tell him. I should have already.”
Ryan stared into the darkness.
Why hadn’t his father warned him?
The recording continued.
“Victor believes marriage creates opportunity. Patricia believes Ryan deserves financial security.”
Ryan’s stomach twisted.
“They are treating my son’s relationship like a transaction.”
Ryan stood.
“No.”
Then came the final words.
“If I cannot stop them, I will go to the authorities tomorrow.”
The recording ended.
Ryan sat motionless.
Tomorrow had never come.
Richard died the next morning.
Ryan immediately called Detective Collins.
“I found something.”
But before he could explain, a sound came from outside the storage unit.
Footsteps.
Ryan turned.
The hallway light went dark.
“Hello?”
No answer.
Then he smelled smoke.
Ryan stepped toward the door.
It wouldn’t open.
Someone had locked it from the outside.
Smoke began creeping beneath the metal door.
Ryan kicked it.
“Hey!”
Nothing.
The fire alarm suddenly screamed.
Ryan looked toward his father’s notebook.
The voice recorder.
The evidence.
May you like
Someone knew he had found it.
And they were willing to burn everything—including Ryan—to make sure it disappeared.
