Chapter 13 — The Trial of the Whitakers
Chapter 13 — The Trial of the Whitakers
By sunrise, the Whitaker family had stopped being a family.
They had become evidence.
The first arrests happened at 6:14 in the morning.
By 6:32, three police vehicles were parked outside Beacon Crest Medical Center.
By 7:05, every major news network had begun broadcasting the same headline:
WHITAKER MEDICAL DYNASTY COLLAPSES AFTER SECRET FAMILY SCANDAL
Maren watched the coverage from a private conference room.
Her hands were clasped tightly together.
Across the table sat investigators, attorneys, and financial prosecutors.
Nobody called it a family meeting anymore.
It was an investigation.
A trial had already begun in the court of public opinion.
And the real trial would follow.
Maren looked at the screen.
A photograph of Reed appeared.
Then Celeste.
Then Marcus.
Then Richard.
Every secret was becoming public.
But there was one name the reporters had not mentioned.
Isabelle.
Maren turned to the prosecutor.
"Where is she?"
"We don't know."
"And my daughter?"
"We believe she's alive."
"Believe?"
The prosecutor hesitated.
"Mrs. Whitaker—"
"Maren."
"Ms. Whitaker, the underground facility is enormous. We've searched three levels."
"Search four."
"There is no Level Four."
Maren looked at him.
"Then someone built it without putting it on the plans."
The prosecutor sighed.
"That's what we're investigating."
Maren stood.
"My daughter is somewhere under this hospital."
She pointed toward the floor.
"And while you investigate paperwork, someone is deciding whether she gets to live."
Nobody answered.
Maren turned away.
Then the conference room doors opened.
Reed entered.
His wrists were handcuffed.
Maren's heart dropped.
"What happened?"
Two officers escorted him inside.
The lead detective placed a file on the table.
"Mr. Whitaker is being charged."
Maren stared.
"For what?"
"Murder."
Silence.
"Whose murder?"
The detective looked at Reed.
"Your grandfather's."
Maren's face went pale.
Reed didn't speak.
She looked at him.
"Did you kill him?"
"No."
The detective opened the file.
"Then why is your DNA on the murder weapon?"
Reed stared at the evidence photograph.
A bloodstained knife.
His fingerprints.
His DNA.
Everything looked perfect.
Too perfect.
Maren immediately understood.
"This is fabricated."
The detective shook his head.
"The forensic report is preliminary."
"Then why arrest him?"
"Because the evidence is strong."
Maren stepped forward.
"He was with me when the murder supposedly happened."
The detective looked at her.
"When was your grandfather killed?"
"Twenty-seven years ago."
The detective's expression changed.
"Then you weren't present."
"No."
Reed finally spoke.
"I was."
Everyone turned.
Maren stared at him.
"What?"
Reed looked at the floor.
"I remember that night."
"You said you didn't."
"I was afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"Of remembering."
The detective leaned forward.
"What did you see?"
Reed closed his eyes.
"A man."
"Who?"
"Richard."
Maren's breath caught.
"What did he do?"
Reed swallowed.
"He killed him."
The room became silent.
"Then why is your DNA on the weapon?"
Reed looked at Maren.
"Because I tried to stop him."
The trial began three days later.
It was supposed to be a preliminary hearing.
Instead, it became the biggest courtroom spectacle the city had seen in decades.
Reporters crowded outside.
Helicopters circled overhead.
Share prices collapsed.
Whitaker Medical Holdings lost billions in market value before the opening bell.
Inside the courtroom, Reed sat behind the defense table.
Maren sat in the gallery.
She had refused to sit beside the prosecution.
She refused to sit beside the defense.
She was there for one reason.
To hear the truth.
The judge entered.
Everyone stood.
"Be seated."
The prosecutor rose.
"The State alleges that Reed Whitaker participated in a conspiracy spanning nearly three decades."
Murmurs spread through the courtroom.
"He benefited financially from the deaths and disappearances of members of the Whitaker family."
The prosecutor turned toward Reed.
"He married the principal heir."
"He gained access to her estate."
"He altered insurance documents."
"He participated in financial fraud."
"And now we have evidence connecting him to the murder of Thomas Whitaker."
Maren's grandfather.
The courtroom erupted.
The judge struck the gavel.
"Order!"
The prosecutor continued.
"The State will prove that Reed Whitaker was not a victim."
"He was a participant."
Maren looked at Reed.
His expression remained unreadable.
Then the defense attorney stood.
"Your Honor, the prosecution has one problem."
The judge looked at him.
"What problem?"
"The defendant's identity."
A murmur moved through the courtroom.
The attorney placed a document on the evidence table.
"Reed Whitaker may not legally be Reed Whitaker."
The prosecutor objected.
"Speculation."
"Sustained."
The defense attorney nodded.
"We will establish the defendant's identity through genetic evidence."
Maren felt her heart tighten.
The prosecutor smiled.
"Then we welcome the test."
The first witness was Helena Price.
She described the insurance policy.
The forged signatures.
The hidden beneficiary.
The twelve-million-dollar death benefit.
The courtroom listened.
Then the prosecutor asked:
"Who benefited from the policy?"
Helena answered:
"Several parties."
"Name them."
"Reed Whitaker."
"Isabelle Whitaker."
"The Richard Mercer Family Trust."
The prosecutor turned toward the jury.
"And who controlled the trust?"
Helena hesitated.
"Richard Mercer."
A murmur spread.
The prosecutor continued.
"Was Maren Whitaker aware of this arrangement?"
"No."
"Was Reed?"
"I don't know."
The prosecutor looked at Reed.
"Mr. Whitaker, did you know your wife was insured for twelve million dollars?"
Reed stood.
"Yes."
"Did you change the policy?"
"No."
"Did you benefit from it?"
"Not yet."
The prosecutor smiled.
"Not yet."
He repeated the words.
"That's convenient."
Reed said nothing.
"Did you ever intend to kill your wife?"
"No."
"Did you ever discuss her death with Celeste Whitaker?"
"No."
"Did you ever discuss the insurance policy with Richard Mercer?"
"No."
"Then why did your name appear in every document?"
Reed looked at him.
"Because someone wanted it there."
The prosecutor smiled.
"Everyone always blames someone else."
Reed's eyes hardened.
"Not everyone."
The second witness shocked the courtroom.
Celeste.
She entered wearing prison clothing.
Maren looked at her sister.
Celeste didn't look back.
She took the stand.
The prosecutor approached.
"Ms. Whitaker, did you participate in an attempt to kill your sister?"
Celeste closed her eyes.
"Yes."
"Did you help Reed?"
"Yes."
"Did you help Richard Mercer?"
"Yes."
"Did you steal money?"
"Yes."
"Did you falsify documents?"
"Yes."
"Did you know about the insurance policy?"
"Yes."
"Did you intend to collect the money?"
Celeste's voice broke.
"Yes."
The prosecutor paused.
"And did Reed know?"
Celeste looked toward him.
"No."
The courtroom fell silent.
The prosecutor frowned.
"You expect this jury to believe that?"
Celeste nodded.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because he tried to stop us."
Maren's eyes filled with tears.
Celeste continued.
"Reed was supposed to leave Maren."
"He was supposed to disappear."
"He refused."
"So Richard threatened him."
The prosecutor stared.
"Threatened him with what?"
"His identity."
Celeste swallowed.
"Richard told him that if he didn't cooperate, he'd expose him as someone who didn't exist."
The prosecutor stepped closer.
"Did Reed ever attempt to kill Maren?"
"No."
"Did he ever poison her?"
"No."
"Did he ever arrange the insurance policy?"
"No."
"Then why did you help him?"
Celeste looked toward Maren.
"Because I was jealous."
Her voice broke.
"I wanted her life."
Maren looked away.
Celeste whispered:
"I thought if she disappeared, I could become her."
The courtroom doors suddenly opened.
Everyone turned.
A woman entered.
White hair.
Black coat.
Walking with a cane.
Maren recognized her.
Amelia.
The judge frowned.
"Who is this?"
The defense attorney stood.
"Your Honor, this is our next witness."
The prosecutor stared.
"She's supposed to be dead."
Amelia smiled.
"Apparently not."
She took the stand.
The oath was administered.
Then the defense attorney asked:
"Mrs. Vale, do you know Reed Whitaker?"
Amelia looked at him.
"Yes."
"Who is he?"
She smiled sadly.
"Gabriel."
Reed closed his eyes.
Maren stared.
The attorney continued.
"Is that his birth name?"
"Yes."
"Was he ever legally named Reed?"
"No."
"Then who was Reed Whitaker?"
Amelia looked toward the prosecution.
"A dead child."
The courtroom erupted.
The judge slammed the gavel.
"Order!"
Amelia continued.
"Richard Mercer took Gabriel's identity and gave it to another boy."
"Why?"
"To manipulate the Whitaker succession."
"Who was the other boy?"
Amelia looked toward Maren.
"Richard's biological son."
Maren froze.
The attorney asked:
"And what was his name?"
Amelia's eyes moved toward Reed.
"Reed."
The courtroom became silent.
Reed stared at her.
"What?"
Amelia smiled through tears.
"You've spent twenty-seven years believing you were someone else."
She looked at Maren.
"And you've spent twenty-seven years loving a man who was never supposed to exist."
Reed's voice broke.
"Then who am I?"
Amelia answered:
"Gabriel."
The prosecution objected.
"Your Honor, this witness is making extraordinary claims."
The defense attorney nodded.
"Then let's verify them."
He submitted DNA results.
The laboratory report was displayed.
MATCH: GABRIEL WHITAKER — 99.9998%
Maren covered her mouth.
Reed stared at the report.
His entire identity collapsed.
And rebuilt itself in the same moment.
Gabriel.
His name was Gabriel.
His memories weren't false.
They had simply been buried beneath someone else's life.
The judge called for a recess.
But before anyone could leave, the courtroom doors opened again.
A man walked in.
Old.
Thin.
Walking with a cane.
Maren stopped breathing.
She knew him.
The man from the video.
Her grandfather's attorney.
The man everyone believed was dead.
He looked toward Maren.
Then toward Gabriel.
Then he spoke.
"The trust was never intended to be decided by inheritance."
The judge frowned.
"What do you mean?"
The old attorney smiled.
"It was designed to be decided by choice."
He placed an envelope on the judge's desk.
"Your Honor, this contains the original succession clause."
The judge opened it.
His expression changed.
"What does it say?"
The attorney looked at Maren.
"The estate belongs to whichever heir chooses family over power."
Maren's heart stopped.
"That's impossible."
"No."
He shook his head.
"Your grandfather knew exactly what he was doing."
The prosecutor stood.
"Then who controls the empire?"
The attorney smiled.
"Nobody."
Everyone froze.
"The empire remains frozen until all three heirs agree."
The prosecutor frowned.
"All three?"
"Yes."
"Who are the three?"
The attorney looked toward the courtroom.
"Maren."
"Gabriel."
"And Isabelle."
Maren's heart sank.
"Where is Isabelle?"
Nobody answered.
Then the courtroom lights went out.
A projector activated.
A live image appeared.
Isabelle.
Standing in a dark room.
Holding Elise.
Maren screamed.
"ELISE!"
Isabelle looked directly into the camera.
"Hello, sister."
The judge stood.
"Who is controlling this feed?"
Isabelle smiled.
"Nobody."
She looked at Maren.
"I'm doing this myself."
Maren stepped toward the screen.
"Let my daughter go."
"No."
"Please."
"Not yet."
Isabelle looked at Gabriel.
"You wanted to know who you are."
Gabriel stared.
"I know now."
"No."
Isabelle smiled.
"You know who you were."
She lifted Elise slightly.
"Now learn who you will become."
Gabriel stepped forward.
"Put her down."
Isabelle shook her head.
"Come find me."
"Where?"
She smiled.
"At the place where our grandfather buried the first secret."
The screen went black.
A location appeared.
WHITAKER CEMETERY — MAUSOLEUM 3.
Then another message:
TRUST RELEASE: 02:17:09
Maren turned toward Gabriel.
"We have two hours."
Gabriel nodded.
The judge called after them.
"Ms. Whitaker!"
Maren stopped.
He looked at her.
"Where are you going?"
Maren looked at the black screen.
"To bring my daughter home."
She turned.
Gabriel followed.
And behind them, Celeste whispered:
"I know that place."
Maren stopped.
"How?"
Celeste looked terrified.
"Because Isabelle took me there."
"Why?"
Celeste swallowed.
"She showed me what was buried."
"What?"
Celeste looked toward the courtroom doors.
"The body of the man everyone thought was my father."
Maren froze.
"But my father is alive."
Celeste shook her head.
"Not the man you think."
Outside, sirens began screaming.
The Whitaker trial had barely begun.
But the real verdict would not be delivered in a courtroom.
It would be decided beneath a grave.
May you like
And before the night ended, Maren would discover that her grandfather's greatest secret had never been money.
It had been murder.
