PART 3 — My Brother Knew About the Money Before I Even Came Home
I stared at my phone.
Godfrey knew about the settlement.
Before I came home.
Before I told anyone.
Before I had even stepped through the gate.
That meant one thing.
Someone had been watching me.
I immediately called the number back.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
I saved the number and walked toward the hospital reception desk.
“Can I use a private room to make a call?”
The receptionist pointed me toward a small waiting area.
I sat down and called the lawyer who had handled my settlement in Canada.
He answered on the third ring.
“Damian?”
“I need to ask you something.”
“Is everything okay?”
“No.”
I told him what had happened.
There was a long silence.
Then he said:
“Did you tell anyone about the settlement?”
“No.”
“Not your mother?”
“No.”
“Your brother?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then someone may have obtained information illegally.”
I looked through the hospital window.
Phedra was still being examined.
“What should I do?”
“Don't confront anyone yet.”
“Too late.”
He sighed.
“Damian, listen carefully. A million dollars changes people's behavior.”
I remembered the look on Godfrey's face.
“I've already seen that.”
“Then protect yourself.”
“I will.”
“More importantly, protect your wife.”
That sentence stayed with me.
After hanging up, I called an old friend in Canada.
His name was Marcus.
He worked in cybersecurity and had helped me before.
“Damian?”
“I need a favor.”
“What happened?”
“I think someone has been accessing my financial information.”
His voice became serious.
“Give me everything you have.”
I sent him the bank statements.
Then I sent screenshots of my mother's account.
He promised to look through them.
Twenty minutes later, my phone buzzed.
Marcus had found something.
“Damian, this is strange.”
“What?”
“There are recurring transfers from your mother's account.”
“To whom?”
“Multiple people.”
I waited.
“Your brother.”
I already knew that.
“How much?”
“Different amounts. Ten thousand. Twelve thousand. Fifteen thousand.”
My stomach turned.
“What about the auto shop?”
“There's more.”
“What?”
“Property purchase.”
I froze.
“What property?”
“A commercial building.”
I leaned forward.
“When?”
“Eight months ago.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
Marcus sent me a document.
The purchase price was nearly eighty thousand dollars.
I stared at the screen.
My mother couldn't afford it.
Godfrey couldn't afford it.
Unless…
My money had paid for it.
Then Marcus said something that made my hands go cold.
“Damian, I found something else.”
“What?”
“There are transfers to a woman.”
“Who?”
“Phedra.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Money was sent from your mother's account to a medical clinic.”
I breathed out.
“That's her treatment.”
“No.”
His voice was quiet.
“This transfer was made after the date your mother claimed Phedra's treatment had stopped.”
I stared at the screen.
“What are you saying?”
“Someone may have been paying for her treatment.”
My heart stopped.
“Who?”
Marcus sent me another file.
A clinic receipt.
The patient name was Phedra.
The payment account belonged to…
Godfrey.
I couldn't understand.
My brother had been telling everyone that Phedra was wasting money.
He had been humiliating her.
But he had also been paying the clinic?
Why?
Before I could process it, a doctor walked toward me.
“Mr. Damian?”
I stood immediately.
“Yes.”
“Your wife is stable.”
I nearly collapsed from relief.
“But…”
My heart sank.
“But what?”
“She is severely malnourished.”
I closed my eyes.
“We'll do everything we can.”
“Can I see her?”
“Yes.”
When I entered the room, Phedra was lying beneath a white blanket.
She looked exhausted.
But she smiled when she saw me.
“Are you still here?”
“I'm not going anywhere.”
She reached for my hand.
“Did they tell you?”
“Yes.”
“The doctor?”
She nodded.
“I have cancer.”
“I know.”
“I'm scared.”
I sat beside her.
“So am I.”
She looked surprised.
“You're not supposed to say that.”
“Why?”
“Because you're always strong.”
I squeezed her hand.
“I don't need to pretend with you.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Then she whispered:
“There is something else you need to know.”
“What?”
“Your brother wasn't always cruel.”
I looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“When I first got sick, Godfrey helped me.”
I frowned.
“He took me to the clinic.”
“When?”
“Almost a year ago.”
“Before Mother knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why would he help you?”
She looked confused.
“I don't know.”
“What happened afterward?”
“He changed.”
“How?”
“He told me he had discovered something.”
“What?”
Phedra hesitated.
“He said our family was hiding something from you.”
My heart began pounding.
“What?”
“I don't know.”
“What exactly did he say?”
She closed her eyes, trying to remember.
“He told me…”
Her voice became weak.
“That your father left something behind.”
I froze.
“My father?”
She nodded.
“He said your mother had lied about what happened to him.”
My father's death had always been presented as an accident.
A workplace accident.
A simple tragedy.
Nothing more.
“What did Godfrey know?”
Phedra whispered:
“He said your father had money.”
I stared at her.
“How much?”
“He didn't know.”
She opened her eyes.
“But he believed your mother had hidden it.”
I felt the room suddenly become colder.
My father had died when I was nineteen.
My mother had always said he left us with debts.
That's why I had worked abroad.
That's why I had sent money home.
But what if that was a lie?
My phone vibrated.
Marcus.
A message.
I found the original property documents.
Then another message appeared.
The commercial building wasn't purchased by Godfrey.
I stared at the screen.
A third message arrived.
It was purchased under your mother's name.
Then a fourth.
And the source of funds is listed as an inheritance.
I stopped breathing.
Inheritance?
My father supposedly had nothing.
I looked at Phedra.
She was watching my face.
“What happened?”
I slowly put the phone down.
“My mother lied.”
Before I could say anything else, the hospital room door opened.
A nurse stood there.
“Mr. Damian?”
“Yes?”
“There is a man outside asking to see you.”
“Who?”
The nurse looked uncomfortable.
“Your brother.”
Godfrey had followed me.
And judging by the look on his face when he entered the room…
He hadn't come to apologize.
He had come to negotiate.
