PART 3
I looked at the locked office.
Then at Dad.
“Open it.”
He didn’t move.
Mom stepped forward.
“Frank, open the door.”
His eyes stayed on me.
“You’re making this bigger than it is.”
“Then prove it.”
Silence.
Finally, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key.
The lock clicked.
The room smelled like old paper and cigarette smoke.
There were filing cabinets along the walls, three computer monitors, and a desk covered with folders.
But one folder immediately caught my attention.
My name was written across it.
REBECCA HAYES.
I froze.
“Why do you have a file on me?”
Dad said nothing.
I opened it.
Inside were copies of my military records, bank statements, addresses, photographs, and documents I’d never given him.
Then I found something that made my hands go cold.
A spreadsheet.
Seven years of transfers.
Every $40,000 payment was listed.
But beside each payment was another number.
A second column showing where the money had gone.
Mercedes.
Investments.
Private accounts.
And one recurring payment to Hayes Consulting Group.
Mom stared over my shoulder.
“What’s Hayes Consulting?”
I turned the page.
There were signatures.
One belonged to my father.
The other belonged to someone I recognized.
Daniel Brooks.
My financial adviser.
I called him immediately.
He answered on the first ring.
“Rebecca, don’t open anything else.”
I looked at Dad.
“How do you know what I’m looking at?”
Daniel went silent.
Then he said quietly:
“Because I didn’t discover those transfers yesterday.”
My heart stopped.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been tracking your father’s accounts for months.”
“Why?”
“Because someone contacted me.”
“Who?”
Daniel hesitated.
Then came the sentence that changed everything.
“Your mother.”
I looked at Linda.
She was crying.
Dad’s face had gone completely white.
Mom whispered:
“I knew he was hiding something. I just didn’t know how far it went.”
I turned back to the folder.
At the bottom was a sealed envelope.
My name was written on it.
And underneath it were four words:
DO NOT TRUST FRANK.
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed my father standing beside the same two men Emily had seen.
But they weren’t outside some random office.
They were standing in front of a military facility.
And on the back of the photograph was a date.
A date from seven years earlier.
The exact month I sent my first $40,000.
I looked at Dad.
“What did you do?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he stared at the photograph and whispered:
“You weren’t supposed to find that.”
The room went silent.
And then my phone buzzed.
An unknown number had sent me one message:
Rebecca, if you want the truth about your father, come alone.
Below it was an address.
I recognized it immediately.
It was the same office building Emily had followed him to.
And beneath the address was one final line:
Ask him about the account under your name.
I looked at Dad.
For the first time, he looked terrified.
Because apparently, the money I thought I’d been sending to save my mother…
had been funding something else entirely.