My Father's Last Secret: A Halloween Night That Changed Everything Forever — Part 2 of 3

The Man Who Knew My Name

I clutched the phone, my heart racing. "How do you know my name?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"Your father told me about you," Richard said. "He called me the night before he passed. He said you might need my help."

I looked at my grandmother, who was leaning against the porch railing, her face pale. She had heard the name too, and something flickered in her eyes—recognition, maybe even fear.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice firmer now. "My dad said you’re my real grandfather. But my grandfather is dead."

"That’s what your father wanted you to believe," Richard said. "But I’m very much alive. And I’m coming to get you. Stay where you are."

The line went dead. I stared at the phone, my mind spinning. My grandmother took my arm and led me to the car.

"Get in," she said, her voice trembling. "We need to talk."

We sat in her old Buick, the engine running to keep warm. Margaret stared out the windshield, her hands gripping the steering wheel.

"You knew about this?" I asked. "About Richard?"

She nodded slowly. "I knew about him, Lucy. But I didn’t know he was still alive. Your father kept that from me, too."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Who is he?"

"Richard Blackwood was your father’s father," she said. "But he wasn’t a good man. He was a businessman, ruthless, cold. He disowned your father when he chose to become a teacher instead of taking over the family company."

"So my dad never spoke to him?" I asked.

"He tried," Margaret said. "But Richard refused to have anything to do with him. They were estranged for over thirty years. I never thought he’d reach out."

I felt a knot in my stomach. "But my dad left me his number. He said to call him if I didn’t know who to trust. That means he trusted Richard."

Margaret turned to me, her eyes filled with a strange mixture of hope and sorrow. "Maybe he did. Or maybe he wanted you to have a choice."

We drove to Margaret’s apartment, a small one-bedroom place filled with old photographs and the smell of lavender. She made us tea, but neither of us drank it. We sat in silence, waiting.

An hour later, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find a tall, silver-haired man in a tailored overcoat. He had my father’s eyes—the same deep blue, the same sharpness.

"Lucy," he said, his voice softer than I expected. "I’m Richard. Your grandfather."

I stepped back, letting him in. He looked around the apartment, his eyes landing on Margaret. "Margaret," he said, nodding. "It’s been a long time."

"Not long enough," she said, her voice cold.

"I know you have no reason to trust me," Richard said, turning back to me. "But your father asked me to protect you. And I intend to do that."

"Protect me from what?" I asked.

He hesitated. "From Vanessa. And from the truth about your father’s estate."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "She said the will leaves everything to her."

"That’s what she wants you to think," Richard said. "But your father was smarter than that. He knew Vanessa was only after his money. That’s why he changed his will six months ago, without telling her."

I felt a flicker of hope. "He did?"

"Yes," Richard said. "He left everything to you, Lucy. The house, his savings, everything. But he knew Vanessa would fight it. So he gave me a copy of the will, along with evidence of her plans."

"What evidence?" I asked.

Richard pulled a folder from his coat and handed it to me. Inside were bank statements, emails, and a recording. I read through them, my hands shaking.

Vanessa had been draining my father’s accounts for years. She had a secret bank account, and she had been stealing money right under his nose. But more shocking than that, the emails revealed she had been planning to sell the house even before my father died.

"She was waiting for him to die," I said, my voice hollow. "That’s why she didn’t cry at the funeral."

"Yes," Richard said. "And that’s why she threw you out. She wanted you gone before you could contest the will."

I looked up at him, tears in my eyes. "But why didn’t my dad tell me?"

"He was trying to protect you," Richard said. "He knew Vanessa would go after you if you knew the truth. So he made a plan. He gave you my number, and he gave me everything you need to fight back."

Margaret spoke up, her voice sharp. "And why should we trust you? You disowned Daniel. You never came to see him, not even when he was dying."

Richard’s face softened. "That was my biggest regret," he said. "I was stubborn and proud. I thought I was teaching him a lesson, but I was only hurting myself. When I heard he was sick, I tried to reach out, but he refused. He didn’t want to see me."

"So why now?" I asked.

"Because he called me," Richard said. "The night before he died. He told me he forgave me. And he asked me to take care of you."

I felt a sob catch in my throat. "He forgave you?"

"Yes," Richard said. "And he said something else. He said, 'Lucy is the only thing that matters. Make sure she knows the truth.'"

I wiped my eyes. "What truth?"

Richard looked at me, his eyes intense. "The truth about your mother."

I froze. My mother had died when I was three. I had no memory of her, only a few faded photographs. "What about her?" I asked.

"She didn’t die in a car accident," Richard said. "That was a lie your father told to protect you. Your mother left. She ran away with another man, and she’s been alive all this time."

The room spun. I grabbed the edge of the table. "That’s not true," I said. "My dad would have told me."

"He didn’t want to hurt you," Richard said. "But now, with Vanessa out of the picture, he wanted you to have the choice to find her."

I felt like I was drowning. My father was gone, my stepmother had betrayed me, and now I was learning that my mother had been alive for nineteen years.

"Why didn’t she come back?" I asked, my voice breaking.

"I don’t know," Richard said. "But I can help you find her. If you want."

I looked at my grandmother, who was staring at the floor with tears in her eyes. She knew. She had always known.

"You knew about my mother?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Margaret nodded, her chin trembling. "I’m sorry, Lucy. I didn’t want to keep it from you, but your father made me promise. He said it was for your own good."

I stood there, surrounded by the people who were supposed to love me, and realized that everything I thought I knew was a lie.

But then I remembered the look in my father’s eyes when he gave me that number. He trusted Richard. He trusted him to protect me. And now, standing here, I knew I had to trust him too.

"Okay," I said, my voice steady. "Let’s find her."