“Hudson Family Consulting was registered by Samuel Reeves, but the company hasn’t reported any normal business activity. It appears to exist mainly to receive money.”
“From my mother and from Maya,” David said.
“Yes. And probably from other people.”
Maya’s face tightened.
“Do you think my mother is involved?”
“I don’t know,” Daniel replied. “But based on what she said during the call, she may be a victim too.”
David stood near the window, gently rocking Liam.
“What about the insurance policy?”
Daniel turned the laptop toward them.
“Your father, Thomas Bennett, owned several small rental buildings with Samuel Reeves. Six weeks before Thomas died, he changed the beneficiary on one life insurance policy from Eleanor Bennett to Marisol Santos.”
“Why?”
“The form doesn’t say.”
“And the note about a daughter?”
“It was attached to the paperwork. The insurer kept a scanned copy.”
Daniel clicked on a file.
A handwritten note appeared on the screen.
The ink was faded, but David recognized the slant of the letters immediately.
His father’s handwriting.
If anything happens to me, please contact Marisol Santos. The funds are for her and our daughter. Eleanor must not control this money.
Maya covered her mouth.
David read the sentence again.
Then again.
The words did not change.
“Our daughter,” he whispered.
Maya turned toward him.
“We don’t know what he meant.”
“What else could it mean?”
“We don’t know.”
David looked at her face, searching unconsciously for signs of his father.
The shape of her eyes.
The line of her jaw.
The quiet way she pressed her lips together when she was frightened.
Maya noticed.
“Please don’t look at me like that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m still me.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
David lowered his gaze.
Liam had fallen asleep against his chest.
Daniel closed the file.
“There is no birth certificate connecting Thomas to Maya. No legal acknowledgment. No confirmed evidence of paternity. Right now, all we have is a note.”
“And Marisol’s warning,” Maya said.
“Yes.”
“Can you find her?”
“We’re trying.”
Maya looked toward the dark phone on the table.
“What if she’s in danger?”
Daniel did not answer immediately.
“That is possible,” he said carefully. “But the disconnected number may also have been temporary or internet-based. We should not assume the worst.”
David stared through the window at the snow.
“What did she mean when she said my mother knows why my father died?”
“I don’t know,” Daniel said. “But before we reach conclusions, remember that grief creates stories. Family members remember the same event differently. Documents get lost. People exaggerate. People lie. Sometimes they lie to protect someone. Sometimes they lie to protect themselves.”
“And sometimes they tell the truth too late,” Maya said.
Daniel nodded.
“Yes.”
A nurse entered to check Maya’s medication. The conversation stopped.
While the nurse adjusted the IV, David watched Maya’s face.
She looked overwhelmed, but she was not withdrawing the way she had before. She asked the nurse questions. She listened carefully. She requested written instructions for her recovery.
Small acts, but important ones.
She was beginning to reclaim her voice.
When the nurse left, Maya turned to David.
“I need to tell you everything.”
Daniel began to stand.
“I can step out.”
“No,” Maya said. “You should hear it too.”
She took a slow breath.
“My mother first contacted me six months ago through an old email address. The message said she had been searching for me for years.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” David asked.
“Because I had spent my whole life pretending I didn’t care.”
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket.
“When I was eight, she left me with my aunt and promised she would return in a week. She didn’t come back for almost three years. When she did, she said she had been working. Then she disappeared again.”
Maya looked at Liam.
“I decided I would never become the kind of mother who could leave.”
David sat beside her.
