Helen Porter answered the door holding a walking cane.
She looked at me for several seconds.
Then her eyes moved to Mr. Bennett.
“You're William's attorney.”
“Yes.”
She looked at me again.
“And you're Elaine's daughter.”
I nodded.
Her face softened.
“I wondered when you'd come.”
My stomach tightened.
“You knew I would?”
“Your father told me.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
She opened the door wider.
“Come in.”
Her living room was modest and warm, filled with plants and old furniture.
Photographs covered one wall.
I recognized the hospital in several of them.
Helen noticed.
“I worked there for thirty-seven years.”
“You cared for my mother?”
“For three nights.”
I sat down.
“What happened?”
She took a slow breath.
“Your mother was very sick.”
“I know.”
“No.”
She looked directly at me.
“You know what they told you.”
The distinction hurt.
“What did you see?”
Helen sat opposite me.
“Elaine was weak, but she was lucid.”
“Was she afraid?”
“Yes.”
“Of what?”
“Her sister.”
My chest tightened.
“Vivian?”
Helen nodded.
“She kept asking me whether Vivian had arrived.”
“Why?”
“She didn't trust her.”
“Did Vivian come?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Late afternoon.”
“Was Thomas with her?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“Vivian asked me to leave the room.”
Helen's voice became quiet.
“I refused.”
“Why?”
“Because Elaine was my patient.”
“What did Vivian do?”
“She became angry.”
“How?”
“She told me she had authority.”
“She didn't.”
“I knew that.”
Helen looked down.
“She eventually left.”
“Then what?”
“She returned with medication.”
My stomach tightened.
“What medication?”
“A sedative.”
“The same one in the record?”
“Yes.”
“Who prescribed it?”
“No one.”
I felt cold.
“She gave it to my mother?”
Helen nodded.
“She told me Elaine was agitated.”
“Was she?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Helen looked at me.
“Because Elaine had started shouting.”
“What was she saying?”
“Something about William.”
“What?”
Helen hesitated.
“She said Vivian was stealing from him.”
I looked at Mr. Bennett.
“She knew.”
Helen nodded.
“She also said Vivian was hiding something about Alyssa.”
My hands went cold.
“What exactly?”
“I don't remember the exact words.”
“But you remember Alyssa.”
“Yes.”
“What happened after Vivian gave her the medication?”
“She became sleepy.”
“How long?”
“About twenty minutes.”
“Then?”
“She stopped responding.”
I leaned forward.
“Did you call the doctor?”
“Yes.”
“Dr. Reed?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He told me to document it as an adverse reaction.”
“Did he examine her?”
“Yes.”
“Did he seem surprised?”
Helen looked away.
“No.”
That answer stayed with me.
“What happened next?”
“Vivian came back.”
“Why?”
“She asked whether Elaine had said anything.”
I stared.
“She wasn't asking whether she was alive?”
Helen shook her head.
“She asked what Elaine had told me.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
Helen's eyes filled with tears.
“I was afraid.”
“Did Vivian threaten you?”
“She didn't have to.”
“Why?”
“Because I saw Thomas outside the room.”
My heart dropped.
“He was there?”
“Yes.”
“What was he doing?”
“He was standing at the end of the corridor.”
“Did he enter?”
“No.”
“Did he speak to Vivian?”
“They spoke quietly.”
“Could you hear them?”
“Only one sentence.”
“What sentence?”
Helen looked at me.
“He said, 'The papers are already handled.'”
I closed my eyes.
The same phrase from Dr. Reed's recording.
Thomas had said it before Elaine died.
That meant the financial plan wasn't something they created afterward.
It had already been arranged.
“What papers?”
“I don't know.”
Mr. Bennett asked, “Did anyone else come into the room?”
Helen nodded.
“William.”
I looked up.
“Dad was there?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“About an hour later.”
My heart began pounding.
“But Richard said he was away.”
“He arrived late.”
“Did he see Elaine?”
“Yes.”
“Was she alive?”
“Barely.”
“What did he do?”
“He cried.”
That sounded like Dad.
“What did he say?”
Helen closed her eyes.
“He told her he was sorry.”
I swallowed.
“Did she respond?”
“She opened her eyes.”
“What did she say?”
Helen looked at me.
“She said, 'Take Candace.'”
I stopped breathing.
“She said that?”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“She said, 'Don't let Vivian raise her.'”
The room seemed to vanish.
Dad had heard my mother.
He had known.
And yet he had left me with Vivian.
Why?
Helen continued.
“William asked me to get a doctor.”
“What happened?”
“Vivian stopped him.”
“How?”
“She told him Elaine was already gone.”
“But she wasn't.”
“No.”
“What happened next?”
“William looked at Vivian.”
Helen's voice shook.
“I had never seen a man look at someone like that.”
“Angry?”
“Terrified.”
“Why?”
“Because he understood.”
I leaned forward.
“What did he understand?”
“That something was wrong.”
Helen looked at Mr. Bennett.
“Your father asked me to keep the original medication chart.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“And he took it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“He told me not to give it to him.”
That surprised me.
“Why?”
“Because he said someone would come looking for it.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“He didn't say.”
Helen reached into a drawer.
“I kept it anyway.”
She produced a small envelope.
Another piece.
Another thing Dad had hidden.
Inside was a handwritten note.
William had written:
If I die before the truth comes out, keep the chart safe.
I looked at Helen.
“Did anyone come looking?”
She nodded.
“Thomas.”
“When?”
“Two days later.”
“What did he want?”
“The chart.”
“Did you give it to him?”
“No.”
“What did he do?”
“He threatened me.”
“With what?”
“He said people could make my life very difficult.”
I felt sick.
“And Vivian?”
“She came the following week.”
“What did she want?”
“The same thing.”
Helen looked at me.
“I lied.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That the chart had been destroyed.”
She smiled sadly.
“It wasn't.”
Mr. Bennett examined the document.
“This is important.”
“How important?”
“Potentially decisive.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because it establishes that the original record existed before the alteration.”
Helen nodded.
“There is more.”
“What?”
She pointed to the bottom of the chart.
A handwritten notation.
Not from the doctor.
Not from her.
Not from Vivian.
Someone else.
I recognized the handwriting.
Dad's.
He had written:
Ask Jonathan about the transfer.
I looked at Mr. Bennett.
“Jonathan Hale.”
He nodded.
“The finance officer.”
Helen looked confused.
“Who is Jonathan?”
“Someone Dad suspected.”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
I looked at the chart again.
Dad had connected the medication to a financial transfer.
That meant he believed money had changed hands before Elaine died.
Not afterward.
Before.
I asked Helen one final question.
“Did my mother say anything else?”
Helen thought for a long moment.
Then she nodded.
“She said one name.”
“Whose?”
Helen looked directly at me.
“Jonathan.”
My heart stopped.
“Jonathan Hale?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“I never forgot it.”
I stood.
Mr. Bennett gathered the documents.
Helen watched me.
“Your father spent years trying to solve this.”
“I know.”
“He blamed himself.”
“I know.”
“But he never gave up.”
I looked at the old woman.
“Neither will I.”
Outside, the afternoon sun had returned.
For the first time, the case no longer looked like a family secret.
It looked like a deliberate operation.
Money had moved.
Records had been altered.
People had been threatened.
And my mother had known the name of the man at the center of the financial trail.
Jonathan Hale.
The person Dad had trusted with his company.
The person who had access to every account.
The person who might have known about the medication before anyone else.
My phone rang.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A man's voice said:
“You're asking the wrong questions.”
I froze.
“Who is this?”
“You should ask what Elaine was going to expose.”
Then the line went dead.
I looked at Mr. Bennett.
He had heard enough.
“What did he say?”
I repeated it.
Mr. Bennett's expression changed.
“Then we're getting close.”
“To what?”
He looked at the documents in his hand.
“The reason your mother had to die.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: Jonathan Hale Denied Knowing About Elaine’s Death, Until Dad’s Financial Records Revealed a Payment Made Hours Before She Died
My Sister Demanded Proof I Was Dad’s Daughter, But the Lawyer Had Already Prepared Something She Never Expected
Part 10 of 20
