“Me.”
For several seconds, that was the only word I could hear.
My father had been dead for fourteen years.
I had stood beside his grave when I was sixteen.
I had watched my mother collapse against his coffin.
Now he was standing inside my bedroom telling me he had ordered my fiancé to fake his death.
I backed away until my legs hit the bed.
“No.”
“Meredith—”
“Don’t say my name.”
His face tightened.
“I know you have questions.”
“Questions?”
I laughed, but nothing about it sounded like laughter.

“I buried you.”
“I know.”
“I buried Adrian.”
“I know.”
“Apparently I’m very good at burying men who aren’t dead.”
Claire stared between us.
“Meredith, maybe we should—”
“No.”
I pointed at my father.
“He talks.”
My father’s name was Thomas Hale.
At least, that was the name I had known.
He looked older than the photographs on my mother’s mantel, but there was no mistaking him.
The scar beneath his chin.
The crooked little finger on his left hand.
The way his right eyebrow lifted when he was nervous.

“Dad?”
His eyes filled with tears.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.”
“I wanted to come back.”
“Fourteen years?”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because Thomas Hale had to die.”
I stared at him.
“What does that even mean?”
He reached slowly inside his jacket.
Claire immediately stepped between us.
“Keep your hands where I can see them.”
My father froze.
Then he pulled out a worn leather wallet and placed it on the dresser.

“Open it.”
I didn’t move.
Claire did.
Inside was an identification card.
Different name.
Same man.
“Who is Robert Vance?” Claire asked.
My father looked at me.
“The man I’ve been for fourteen years.”
I felt dizzy.
“Start at the beginning.”
He nodded.
“Before you were born, I worked financial crimes.”
“For the police?”
“Federal government.”
“What agency?”
He hesitated.
“That doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It matters to me.”
“I investigated networks that moved illegal money through legitimate businesses. Construction companies. Consulting firms. Charities. Investment funds.”
Claire’s expression changed.

“Like Adrian.”
My father nodded.
“Exactly like Adrian.”
I looked between them.
“You knew what he was doing?”
“Not when you met him.”
“But later?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because Adrian worked for a man I’d spent years trying to expose.”
“Who?”
My father didn’t answer.
“Dad.”
“We called him Bishop.”
“That’s not a name.”
“No. It was a title.”
“Whose?”
“That’s what we never discovered.”
Claire folded her arms.
“And Natalie?”
My father’s eyes shifted toward her.
“You must be Claire.”
Her face went pale.
“How do you know me?”
“I knew your sister.”
Claire stopped breathing.
“You knew Natalie?”
“She contacted me.”
“When?”
“Six weeks before she died.”
Claire took a step toward him.
“You knew she was in danger?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t protect her?”
“I tried.”
“She fell from a balcony.”
“I know.”
Claire slapped him.
The sound cracked through the room.
My father didn’t move.
“You knew,” she whispered.
“I did.”
“And you let her die.”
“No.”
“You just said—”
“I got there too late.”
Claire’s eyes filled with tears.
“Who killed my sister?”
My father looked down.
“I don’t know.”
“Bull.”
“I know Adrian was there. I know Natalie confronted him. I know another person entered the apartment approximately eleven minutes before she fell.”
“Who?”
“We never identified them.”
Claire shook her head.
“Adrian killed her.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“I spent years investigating men who survive by making everyone look in the wrong direction. If you decide Adrian did it before you have proof, you may miss the person who actually did.”
That silenced her.
I picked up the photograph from the floor.
“Why are you in this picture with Adrian and Daniel?”
My father stared at it.
“Because Daniel was working with me.”
“The man buried in Adrian’s grave?”
“Yes.”
My stomach turned.
“Tell me what happened that night.”
He sat slowly in the chair beside my window.
“Daniel had spent eighteen months collecting records from inside the network. Natalie had discovered some of the same transactions independently. After Natalie died, Daniel became terrified.”
“So he wanted out.”
“He wanted protection.”
“Then why was he with Adrian?”
“Because Adrian had agreed to help him.”
Claire laughed bitterly.
“You expect us to believe Adrian was helping?”
My father looked at her.
“Adrian wasn’t always what he became.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he was scared.”
I shook my head.
“Of Bishop?”
“Yes.”
“Then why not go to the authorities?”
“Because Adrian believed Bishop had people inside the investigation.”
Claire and I looked at each other.
The anonymous messages.
The warning at the coffee shop.
Maybe Claire had been right.
“That night,” my father continued, “Daniel was supposed to deliver the evidence to me. Adrian was bringing him.”
“The wooden box?”
My father nodded.
“The evidence was hidden inside it.”
“Why did Adrian give it to me?”
“He didn’t know what it contained.”
I frowned.
“Then who put it there?”
“Daniel.”
“How?”
“The box originally belonged to Daniel. Adrian bought it from him.”
“Bought it?”
“Daniel made custom wooden pieces as a hobby. Adrian wanted something personal to give you before your wedding. Daniel realized it was the perfect hiding place.”
I remembered Adrian smiling as he’d handed it to me.
Don’t open it until our wedding morning.
He hadn’t known.
“Then the crash happened.”
My father nodded.
“Daniel was driving. Adrian was in the passenger seat. Someone forced their car off the road.”
“Someone?”
“A second vehicle.”
“Police said Adrian lost control.”
“The report was altered.”
Claire whispered, “Bishop.”
“Possibly.”
“What happened after the crash?”
“Adrian crawled out. Daniel didn’t.”
My throat tightened.
“And Adrian’s identification?”
“Daniel had Adrian’s wallet.”
“Why?”
“They had switched jackets earlier that evening.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s what Adrian claimed.”
I stared at him.
“You don’t believe him.”
“I believe Adrian tells the truth only when the truth benefits him.”
That sounded more like the man I’d discovered today.
“So Adrian survived.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“He called me.”
“Why you?”
“Because Daniel had told him I could help.”
“And you told him to pretend he was dead.”
My father nodded.
“Someone had tried to kill both of them. If whoever ordered the crash believed Adrian died, we thought they might stop looking.”
“You used me.”
His face changed.
“I protected you.”
“You let me bury him!”
“If you’d known he was alive, they could have used you to find him.”
“You don’t get to call that protection.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
I stepped closer.
“You watched me mourn you when I was sixteen. Then you arranged for me to mourn Adrian too.”
Tears filled his eyes.
“I made choices I thought would keep you alive.”
“And did my mother know?”
That question hit him harder than anything else.
He looked away.
My stomach dropped.
“Did Mom know you were alive?”
“Not at first.”
“At first?”
“Meredith—”
“Did she know?”
“Yes.”
I felt something inside me break.
“How long?”
“Nine years.”
My knees weakened.
My mother had died two years ago.
For the last seven years of her life, she’d known my father wasn’t dead.
“She lied to me too.”
“She wanted to tell you.”
“But she didn’t.”
“Because I begged her not to.”
I turned away.
I couldn’t look at him.
Everyone I had trusted seemed to have built my life out of lies.
My father.
My mother.
Adrian.
Even Colleen.
Claire touched my arm.
“We should go.”
My father stood.
“No.”
Claire looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because Adrian took the box.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw him leave your house.”
My head snapped around.
“You were watching my house?”
“I’ve been watching it since the funeral.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew eventually someone would come looking for that box.”
“Adrian found it.”
“Yes.”
“Then the evidence is gone.”
My father shook his head.
“No.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“The box was never the evidence.”
“But you just said—”
“I said the evidence was hidden inside it.”
“What’s the difference?”
He picked up the photograph.
“This.”
He turned it over.
There was a tiny black mark near the bottom corner.
I had thought it was ink.
My father scraped it gently with his fingernail.
A small plastic object came loose.
A memory card.
Claire gasped.
“That’s the evidence?”
“Part of it.”
I stared at the tiny card.
“Adrian left this photograph here.”
“Which means he either didn’t know it was attached…”
My father paused.
“Or he wanted you to find it.”
I thought about the message on the back.
ASK YOUR FATHER WHY I HAD TO DIE.
“Why would he want that?”
“Maybe Adrian is trying to tell you something.”
Claire shook her head.
“Or he’s manipulating her again.”
“Both can be true.”
My father handed me the card.
“Do you have a computer?”
“Downstairs.”
We went to my office.
My hands shook as I inserted the card.
There were dozens of folders.
Bank statements.
Photographs.
Audio recordings.
Lists of names.
Then Claire saw one folder.
NATALIE BENNETT.
She grabbed my arm.
“Open it.”
Inside were photographs from Natalie’s apartment.
Copies of messages.
Audio files.
Claire clicked the last recording.
Natalie’s voice filled the room.
“If you’re hearing this, something happened to me.”
Claire covered her mouth.
“I discovered who’s controlling the accounts. Adrian thinks he’s working for Bishop, but Bishop isn’t one person. It’s a group.”
My father leaned toward the computer.
Natalie continued.
“They use dead identities, fake companies, even staged deaths to move people in and out of the network.”
My skin prickled.
Then Natalie said something that made my father go completely still.
“Thomas Hale is alive.”
I looked at him.
The recording continued.
“But I don’t think he’s investigating Bishop anymore.”
My father whispered, “Turn it off.”
Claire looked at him.
“Why?”
“Turn it off.”
I moved my hand away from the computer.
“No.”
Natalie’s voice continued.
“I think Thomas is working with them.”
I stared at my father.
His face had gone gray.
“Dad?”
“It’s not what you think.”
Natalie’s recording crackled.
Then she said:
“If I’m right, Thomas Hale isn’t hiding from Bishop.”
A pause.
“He’s Bishop.”
Claire backed away from my father.
I couldn’t move.
“No.”
My father stared at the computer.
“Meredith, listen to me.”
I stood.
“Don’t come near me.”
“Natalie was wrong.”
“Was she?”
“Yes.”
“Then prove it.”
“I can’t explain fourteen years in five minutes.”
“You’ve had fourteen years!”
Claire reached for her phone.
“We’re calling the police.”
My father grabbed her wrist.
She screamed.
“Let go of her!”
He released her immediately.
“Don’t call anyone.”
“Why?”
“Because if you do, they’ll know you have the card.”
“Who?”
He looked toward the window.
Then his face changed.
“Get down.”
“What?”
“DOWN!”
Glass exploded across the room.
Claire screamed.
My father threw me to the floor as the window shattered.
Another impact struck the wall above us.
“Stay down!”
He crawled toward the curtains and pulled them closed.
My heart was hammering.
“What was that?”
He didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
Someone outside had fired into my house.
Claire was shaking.
“They know we’re here.”
My father pulled out his phone.
“We need to move.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere they can’t follow.”
I stared at him.
“You expect me to go anywhere with you after what we just heard?”
“If I were Bishop, Meredith, you wouldn’t still be alive.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what Bishop would say.”
Pain crossed his face.
“Fair.”
Then my phone rang.
Adrian.
The name on the screen seemed impossible.
My father looked at it.
“Don’t answer.”
I answered.
“Meredith?”
Adrian sounded breathless.
“What do you want?”
“Are you at your house?”
I didn’t respond.
“Meredith, answer me.”
“Why?”
“Because you need to get out.”
I looked at the shattered window.
“A little late.”
Silence.
Then Adrian whispered, “No.”
“You knew this would happen?”
“Listen carefully. Is your father with you?”
My eyes moved to him.
“How do you know he’s here?”
“Because he was supposed to be dead long before I was.”
My father held out his hand.
“Give me the phone.”
I stepped away.
“No.”
Adrian continued.
“Whatever Thomas told you, don’t believe him.”
“Claire said the same thing about you.”
“Claire doesn’t know everything.”
“Apparently nobody does.”
“Meredith, the man standing beside you is the reason Natalie died.”
Claire heard him.
Her face changed.
“What?”
My father shouted, “He’s lying!”
Adrian’s voice rose.
“Ask Thomas where he was the night Natalie fell.”
I looked at my father.
“Where were you?”
His silence answered before his mouth did.
Claire stepped toward him.
“You said you arrived too late.”
“I did.”
Adrian laughed bitterly through the phone.
“Ask him how late.”
“Dad?”
My father’s jaw tightened.
“Meredith—”
“HOW LATE?”
He looked at Claire.
Then at me.
“Three minutes.”
Claire stopped.
“Three minutes after she fell?”
My father closed his eyes.
“No.”
My stomach turned.
“Then three minutes before?”
He nodded.
Claire made a broken sound.
“You were there.”
“I didn’t kill her.”
Adrian spoke through the phone.
“But you know who did.”
My father looked at me.
And for the first time since he’d appeared, I saw something in his face I hadn’t seen before.
Shame.
“Yes.”
Claire grabbed him.
“WHO?”
My father didn’t fight her.
“Claire…”
“WHO KILLED MY SISTER?”
He whispered a name.
“Colleen Parker.”
The room went silent.
Adrian’s mother.
The woman who had held my hand at his funeral.
Claire released my father.
“No.”
My phone nearly slipped from my hand.
Adrian said nothing.
That frightened me more than anything.
“Adrian?”
Finally, he answered.
“My mother didn’t push Natalie.”
My father stared at the phone.
“She was there.”
“So were you.”
“She was the last person on that balcony with her.”
Adrian’s voice became cold.
“You’re leaving something out.”
“What?”
“The fourth person.”
My father froze.
Claire stared at him.
“What fourth person?”
Adrian continued.
“There were four people in Natalie’s apartment that night. Natalie. Colleen. Thomas.”
My father whispered, “Stop.”
“And one other person.”
“Adrian,” my father warned.
I gripped the phone.
“Who?”
Adrian went silent.
“WHO WAS IT?”
When he answered, his voice was barely audible.
“Your mother.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“My mother was there?”
My father looked away.
“No.”
Adrian continued.
“Your mother knew Natalie.”
I stared at my father.
“Is that true?”
He didn’t answer.
“Dad!”
“Yes.”
My entire childhood seemed to rearrange itself in my head.
“Why?”
My father sat down heavily.
“Because your mother wasn’t just my wife.”
“What does that mean?”
“She was my partner.”
Claire whispered, “In the investigation?”
My father shook his head.
“No.”
Then he looked at me.
“In Bishop.”
The phone went silent.
My mother.
The woman who packed my school lunches.
Who taught me to drive.
Who held me while I cried after Dad supposedly died.
Who helped me choose my wedding dress.
My mother had been part of it.
“She died two years ago.”
My father looked at me strangely.
“No, Meredith.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
His next words barely came out.
“Your mother isn’t dead either.”
Everything inside me stopped.
Then someone knocked on the front door.
Three slow knocks.
My father went white.
Adrian whispered through the phone:
“Meredith, whatever you do, don’t open that door.”
Another three knocks.
Then a woman’s voice called from downstairs.
A voice I hadn’t heard in two years.
A voice that had once read me bedtime stories.
“Meredith?”
My knees nearly gave out.
Claire covered her mouth.
My father whispered, “Oh God.”
The woman downstairs knocked again.
Then she said:
“Honey, it’s Mom.”……………….

Click Here to continuous Read​​​​ Full Ending Story👉:PART 5 — THE LAST FUNERAL