CHAPTER 9 — Nathan’s Last Lie
CHAPTER 9 — Nathan’s Last Lie
By the time I reached the hospital, the corridor outside Claire's room was full of police officers.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"Where is my wife?"
A nurse pointed toward the security office.
"Mr. Marshall, please—"
"Where is Claire?"
"She's inside."
I pushed through the doors.
Claire was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed.
Alive.
Shaken.
And furious.
Our daughter was still in the neonatal unit.
The crib beside Claire was empty.
A nurse stood beside her, crying.
"What happened?"
Claire looked at me.
"They tried to take her."
My blood went cold.
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"Did you see them?"
"No."
Then a police officer entered.
"Mr. Marshall, we need to talk."
"About what?"
He hesitated.
"There has been an accusation."
I looked at Claire.
"What accusation?"
The officer glanced at her.
"Your wife is being accused of orchestrating the entire incident."
I thought I had misheard him.
"What?"
Before he could answer, another man entered the room.
Nathan.
He looked exhausted.
His shirt was wrinkled.
His eyes were red.
And he had tears running down his face.
"Daniel."
I stared at him.
"What are you doing here?"
He looked at Claire.
"Trying to stop her."
Claire's expression hardened.
"Don't."
Nathan shook his head.
"I don't want to do this."
"Then leave."
He looked at the police officer.
"I told you everything I know."
I stepped between them.
"What exactly did you tell them?"
Nathan looked at me.
"That Claire planned the whole thing."
The room went silent.
Claire stared at him.
"You liar."
Nathan flinched.
"I didn't want to believe it either."
"Believe what?"
He reached into his pocket.
Then pulled out a folded document.
"Your wife has been planning to take control of the trust."
I looked at the paper.
A legal agreement.
Claire's name appeared at the bottom.
My stomach tightened.
"That's impossible."
Nathan shook his head.
"Look at the signature."
I did.
It looked exactly like Claire's.
The officer took the document.
"We found this in your wife's personal belongings."
Claire stood.
"I've never seen that document."
Nathan whispered:
"That's what I said too."
I turned toward him.
"What are you doing?"
He looked wounded.
"I'm trying to protect you."
"No."
I stepped closer.
"You're trying to destroy her."
Nathan's expression changed.
Only for a second.
Then the tears returned.
"You have no idea what she has been doing."
Claire looked at me.
"Daniel, don't believe him."
Nathan immediately interrupted.
"She knew about the trust."
"So did you."
"She knew about Elena."
"So did you."
"She knew the baby would trigger the inheritance."
"So did you."
Nathan froze.
The police officer looked between us.
I realized something.
Nathan hadn't expected me to know that.
I stepped closer.
"How did you know about our daughter's inheritance?"
He didn't answer.
"Who told you?"
Still nothing.
"Nathan."
His jaw tightened.
Then he smiled.
A small, almost invisible smile.
The crying stopped.
Completely.
And I finally saw him.
Not my brother.
Not the frightened man pretending to help.
The liar.
He had prepared everything.
The document.
The witnesses.
The timeline.
Even the story.
According to Nathan, Claire had discovered the family trust months before I returned from overseas.
She had supposedly researched my father's estate.
She had allegedly contacted lawyers.
She had secretly arranged medical appointments.
She had supposedly planned to give birth under a false identity.
Then, according to him, she had manipulated Evelyn.
Drugged herself.
Staged her own near-death.
And attempted to frame the family.
It was ridiculous.
But it was almost convincing.
That was what made it dangerous.
Every lie contained one small piece of truth.
Claire had investigated the trust.
She had found the hidden records.
She had spoken to lawyers.
She had questioned my family.
Nathan had taken those facts and built an entirely false story around them.
The police listened.
Because lies become dangerous when they are supported by facts.
Nathan looked at me.
"I tried to warn you."
I said nothing.
He continued.
"Claire knew your father was going to leave everything to the next legitimate heir."
I frowned.
"How?"
"Because she found the documents."
Claire shook her head.
"I found them because your mother was hiding them."
Nathan ignored her.
"She realized that if your daughter was born, she could control the trust."
"Why would Claire want the trust?"
Nathan looked at her.
"Because she knew you would never give it to her willingly."
Claire laughed.
A bitter laugh.
"You really are desperate."
Nathan's eyes narrowed.
The police officer looked at her.
"Mrs. Marshall, did you ever discuss the trust with Nathan?"
"Yes."
"Did you ever ask about your husband's inheritance?"
"Yes."
"Did you ever sign legal documents concerning the trust?"
"No."
Nathan immediately produced another paper.
"She did."
I grabbed it.
Another signature.
Claire's.
Another document.
Another perfect lie.
Then I noticed something.
The date.
I looked at Claire.
"Where were you on this date?"
"At my mother's house."
"Can you prove it?"
"My mother can."
Nathan smiled.
"Her mother died two years ago."
Claire went silent.
Nathan had chosen the date carefully.
He had built the lie around a dead witness.
There would be no one to contradict him.
I looked at him.
"How long have you been planning this?"
He smiled sadly.
"Planning what?"
"This."
He shook his head.
"You really don't trust me anymore."
"No."
I stepped closer.
"I don't."
The police took Claire's phone.
Then her laptop.
Then her medical records.
Everything.
Nathan watched.
He looked almost relieved.
That was when I realized the truth.
He didn't need the police to arrest Claire.
He only needed them to believe she was guilty long enough for Jonathan to take control of the trust.
If Claire were discredited...
If I were made to look unstable...
If our daughter were declared an heir...
Then Jonathan could petition for guardianship.
Nathan would inherit through him.
The entire plan depended on one thing.
Claire had to become the villain.
And Nathan had just given them a perfect villain.
I went downstairs.
The hospital security office was crowded.
I asked to see the footage.
The supervisor hesitated.
"Mr. Marshall, we can't release that without authorization."
"I own the company that owns this hospital."
He looked at me.
"You're Richard Marshall's son?"
"Yes."
His expression changed.
"Then you need to see this."
He pulled up the footage.
There.
A man entered Claire's floor at 1:42 a.m.
He wore a maintenance uniform.
Hat.
Mask.
Gloves.
His face wasn't visible.
But his badge was.
I paused the image.
The badge number.
1742.
I knew it.
That number belonged to Nathan.
I looked at the supervisor.
"Who accessed this floor?"
"According to the system?"
He checked.
"Nathan Marshall."
I smiled.
Not because I was happy.
Because the first crack had appeared in his perfect lie.
"Print everything."
Nathan was waiting outside.
"You can't go in there."
I stopped.
"Why?"
"Because you're angry."
"No."
I held up the photograph.
"I'm angry because you forgot one thing."
His face changed.
"What?"
"You lied about where you were."
"I was downstairs."
"No."
I showed him the badge.
"You were on Claire's floor."
He stared at it.
Then laughed.
"That proves nothing."
"You entered her room."
"No."
"You tried to take my daughter."
"No."
"You planted the documents."
"No."
"You drugged Claire."
His smile vanished.
"You have no evidence."
I leaned closer.
"Not yet."
He whispered:
"You should stop."
"Why?"
"Because if you keep digging, people will get hurt."
I stared at him.
"Is that a threat?"
He looked into my eyes.
"No."
Then he smiled.
"It's a promise."
That night, Claire was moved to a secure room.
Our daughter was transferred to another hospital.
Only three people knew the location.
Me.
Claire.
And the doctor.
We thought we were safe.
We weren't.
At 3:17 a.m., the doctor entered.
He looked terrified.
"Mr. Marshall."
"What happened?"
"I received an order."
"What order?"
He handed me a document.
"Transfer the baby to another facility."
I looked at it.
Jonathan's signature.
I tore it in half.
"Nobody transfers my daughter."
The doctor nodded.
Then whispered:
"There's something else."
"What?"
"Your wife's blood test."
He handed me the results.
I read them.
Then read them again.
A sedative had been found in Claire's system.
But it wasn't the same drug they had found when she was placed inside the coffin.
This was different.
New.
Administered recently.
I looked at Claire.
She was unconscious.
Someone had drugged her again.
Inside the hospital.
I turned toward the door.
"Nathan."
The doctor nodded.
"His access card was used two hours ago."
I felt something inside me go cold.
I walked into the corridor.
Nathan was standing at the end.
He wasn't alone.
Jonathan stood beside him.
And behind them was my mother.
Evelyn looked at me.
Her face was covered in tears.
"Daniel," she whispered.
"What did you do?"
She shook her head.
"I tried to stop them."
Jonathan smiled.
"You should listen to your mother."
I stepped forward.
"Where is my daughter?"
Jonathan's smile disappeared.
"Safe."
"Where?"
"Somewhere you can't reach."
I felt my blood boil.
Then Nathan spoke.
"Daniel..."
I looked at him.
He held up his phone.
On the screen was a photograph.
Claire.
Unconscious.
A syringe beside her.
The image had been taken only minutes earlier.
Nathan smiled.
"You wanted proof?"
He handed the phone to the police officer behind him.
"There."
The officer looked at the photograph.
Then at me.
"Mr. Marshall, you're going to have to come with us."
I stared at Nathan.
He had done it.
His final lie was complete.
He had turned Claire into the criminal.
And me into the accomplice.
The police officer reached for my wrist.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message.
Unknown number.
One sentence:
THE PHOTO WAS TAKEN THREE HOURS AGO.
I looked at the timestamp.
3:17 a.m.
The photo metadata said:
12:06 a.m.
Someone had altered the image.
I looked up.
Nathan's smile was gone.
For the first time that night, he looked afraid.
I whispered:
"You made one mistake."
"What?"
"You made your lie too perfect."
His face went pale.
I turned toward the police officer.
"Don't arrest me."
I handed him my phone.
"Arrest him."
Nathan stepped backward.
Jonathan grabbed his shoulder.
"Run."
Nathan turned.
The police shouted.
And suddenly the corridor exploded into chaos.
Nathan ran.
Jonathan followed.
My mother stayed behind.
She looked at me.
Then whispered:
"Your father knew this day would come."
I stared at her.
"What did he leave?"
She reached into her coat.
And handed me a small black recorder.
"The complete recording."
I looked at it.
"Why didn't you give me this before?"
"Because your father made me promise."
"Promise what?"
She looked toward the direction Nathan had disappeared.
"Not to play it until Nathan told his last lie."
I pressed the button.
My father's voice filled the corridor.
And the first words I heard were:
"Nathan is not the enemy."
I froze.
Then my father's voice continued:
"He's the bait."
I looked at my mother.
She whispered:
May you like
"Now you finally know."
To be continued.
