Chapter 7 - The Father Who Wanted Him Gone
“What did Arthur intend to do with me?”
Victor's voice was barely above a whisper.
Dr. Pierce gripped his cane.
“He wanted you sent overseas. Raised under another name. Somewhere Evelyn could never find you.”
Victor stared.
“Why?”
“Because you were evidence of an affair that could destroy his marriage and the family business.”
Isabella shook her head.
“He wanted to erase his own son?”
Pierce nodded.
“He said the child would be better off with strangers than caught in a scandal.”
Victor looked toward the old photograph.
Arthur Whitcomb had stood outside the church in an expensive coat, wearing a ring that would eventually pass to his legitimate son.
A man with wealth.
Influence.
Connections.
A man who had wanted his child removed from his life.
Lorenzo had stolen Victor.
Arthur had wanted him to disappear.
Neither man had asked what Evelyn wanted.
“What made Lorenzo change his mind?” Victor asked.
Pierce sighed.
“Margaret.”
Victor turned.
“She refused to let you go.”
Martha looked down.
Pierce continued.
“By then, she'd been raising you for several weeks. She had bonded with you. When Lorenzo told her Arthur would take you away, she threatened to expose everything.”
Victor remembered Margaret singing to him.
Her hand on his forehead when he was sick.
The way she would stand between him and Lorenzo when his father's temper became dangerous.
“She protected me.”
“Yes,” Pierce said. “But she also knew Evelyn was searching.”
Victor absorbed the contradiction.
Margaret had loved him.
Margaret had helped keep him.
Both truths existed together.
“Did Arthur ever see me again?”
Pierce nodded.
“Several times.”
“When?”
“At charity events. Business meetings. Family gatherings.”
Victor remembered Arthur Whitcomb at a Christmas fundraiser years earlier.
The older man had shaken Victor's hand.
He'd held it a moment too long.
Then he'd said something peculiar.
You've grown into quite a man.
Victor had thought it was a compliment.
Now the memory made his stomach turn.
Isabella sat down.
“Was Charles at those events?”
“Sometimes,” Victor answered.
She shook her head.
“Daddy, I met Charles last month.”
Victor looked at her.
“Where?”
“At a fundraiser. He asked about Grandpa's old house.”
Martha raised her head.
“What exactly did he ask?”
Isabella thought for a moment.
“He wanted to know whether Grandpa had left any recordings.”
Victor stared.
“Did you tell him?”
“I said I didn't know.”
“And then?”
“He told me there might be things in the house that would embarrass our family.”
She swallowed.
“He said I should be careful who I trusted.”
Victor looked toward Benjamin.
“Did Charles Whitcomb speak to you?”
Benjamin's shoulders sank.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
“About what?”
“The old tapes.”
Victor walked toward him.
“You've been helping Charles?”
Benjamin shook his head.
“I was trying to prevent a scandal.”
“Whose scandal?”
“Ours.”
Victor's expression hardened.
“Evelyn Bennett wasn't a scandal. She was a mother whose children were taken.”
Benjamin looked ashamed.
“I know that now.”
“You knew enough nineteen years ago.”
Benjamin didn't answer.
Victor turned away.
He had relied on Benjamin during dangerous negotiations, family emergencies, and Isabella's childhood.
Now that trust was broken.
“You're relieved of your duties.”
“Boss—”
“Turn over your keys, security credentials, and every record connected to Lorenzo.”
Benjamin stared.
Victor continued.
“You're going to tell the authorities what you did to Thomas. You're also going to help identify everyone who participated in the hospital fraud.”
Benjamin lowered his head.
“Yes, sir.”
Victor looked toward Isabella.
“You and Martha stay here.”
“Daddy—”
“Please.”
Something in his tone made her stop.
He needed to speak to Thomas again.
But before he could leave, Martha said, “Victor, there's one thing you haven't asked.”
He turned.
“What?”
“Why Evelyn kept returning to that church.”
Victor looked at the photograph.
“Because she was looking for me?”
Martha shook her head.
“That was where Arthur first promised to help her.”
“What promise?”
“He told her that if she kept quiet about his marriage, he would make sure both her boys had a safe home.”
Victor looked at the picture.
“He broke it.”
“Yes.”
Martha's voice softened.
“But Evelyn kept the letter where he made that promise. She believed someday you might need it.”
Victor remembered Pierce mentioning the letter.
“Where is it?”
Martha looked toward Evelyn's old wristwatch.
Victor followed her gaze.
“The watch?”
“No. The place where she bought it.”
Thomas had mentioned Evelyn's apartment only briefly.
Victor called him.
Thomas answered immediately.
“Victor?”
“I need to know where our mother lived.”
A pause.
“Why?”
“She left something that may explain what happened.”
Thomas gave him the address of a small brick building near South Philadelphia.
“Her apartment's gone,” Thomas added. “The building was renovated.”
Victor felt disappointed.
“But I kept most of her things.”
“Where?”
“In storage behind the community center.”
Victor closed his eyes.
“I'm coming.”
Two hours later, Victor stood beside Thomas in a cluttered storage room.
Metal shelves held boxes of donated clothing, broken furniture, and sports equipment.
Thomas brought down a faded cardboard carton.
On the side, written in careful handwriting, were the words:
Evelyn Bennett — Personal.
Inside were ordinary things.
A cookbook.
A blue scarf.
Three Christmas ornaments.
A cracked porcelain dish.
Victor touched each object carefully.
He had never owned anything that belonged to his biological mother.
Not until today.
Thomas lifted out a small wooden box.
“She kept this locked.”
He gave Victor a tiny brass key.
“Found the key sewn inside her scarf after she died.”
Victor opened the box.
Inside were two objects.
A child's drawing.
And an envelope.
The drawing showed a woman standing between two boys.
One older.
One smaller.
Above them, in shaky handwriting, were the words:
MY FAMILY.
Victor stared at the drawing.
Thomas smiled sadly.
“I made that after she found me.”
“Who drew the little boy?”
“I did. From the pictures she showed me of you.”
Victor ran a finger along the paper.
His brother had imagined them together decades before they met.
Then Victor opened the envelope.
It contained an old letter, folded twice.
The paper was brittle.
At the top was Arthur Whitcomb's name.
Victor read aloud.
“Evelyn, I know what I've asked of you. I know my family has treated you cruelly.”
He paused.
Thomas watched him.
Victor continued.
“I promise that neither of your sons will be harmed because of my mistakes.”
His voice tightened.
“I will make arrangements to protect them both.”
Below the signature was an added sentence.
Written in different ink.
If Lorenzo refuses, Charles knows what to do.
Victor stopped reading.
Thomas leaned closer.
“Charles?”
Victor looked at the letter.
Charles Whitcomb had been a teenager in 1978.
But someone had deliberately inserted his name.
The handwriting was different.
The ink was darker.
And beside the sentence was a date.
November 3, 1988.
The day Evelyn had come to the Marino gates.
Victor remembered the little boy sitting inside the blue car.
He turned to Thomas.
“Did Charles meet you that day?”
Thomas's face changed.
“Yes.”
Victor stared.
“Where?”
“At the hospital afterward.”
“What hospital?”
Thomas gripped the edge of a shelf.
“After Lorenzo's men separated us, I woke up in a hospital room. Charles Whitcomb was sitting beside my bed.”
Victor felt his heart pound.
“What did he say?”
Thomas looked frightened for the first time.
“He told me my mother had chosen Daniel over me.”
Victor shook his head.
“That was a lie.”
“I know.”
Thomas reached into the wooden box again.
He removed a small silver pendant shaped like a heart.
“It belonged to Evelyn.”
Victor recognized it from the photographs.
Thomas opened the pendant.
Inside was a tiny scrap of paper.
One handwritten sentence.
Charles was there when Margaret died.
Victor stared.
Margaret had died in 1986.
Two years before Evelyn came to the gates.
And Charles Whitcomb had apparently been there.
Thomas watched his brother's expression.
“What does that mean?”
Victor closed the pendant.
“I don't know.”
Then he remembered Martha's words.
Margaret knew Evelyn was searching.
He looked toward the storage-room window.
May you like
For the first time, Victor wondered whether Margaret's death had been an ordinary medical tragedy at all.
And whether the man who wanted to erase his existence had already helped bury the only woman who stood in his way.
