Chapter 165: Unearthing the Truth 2

Justin’s POV

We moved toward the seating area near the formal dining room. My father sat on the armchair across from me, while Mason remained seated beside me on the sofa.

I took a deep, steadying breath, cutting straight through the heavy atmosphere. "What’s happening?"

Richard adjusted his glasses, his hands trembling slightly. "With the trial?"

"Yes."

He nodded, leaning forward. "There are several formal charges being brought against her."

"How many?"

He paused, staring at the floor as if tallying them up in his head. "About fifteen, give or take. Attempted murder. Premeditated murder. Fraud. Identity theft. Physical abuse. There are severe financial crimes as well, alongside charges related directly to what happened to your mother."

I frowned, my eyebrows drawing together. "Fraud?"

Richard nodded heavily. "That one surprised me too."

"What did she do?"

My father leaned back against the cushions, his face darkening. "The financial investigators discovered that massive sums of money had been quietly moved out of the main company accounts over the years and transferred directly into private Swiss bank accounts."

My jaw tightened so hard it hurt. "How much?"

"A substantial amount. Millions." He rubbed his hands over his face, looking exhausted. "She was also withdrawing cash illegally and making unauthorized international transactions."

I stared at him, disgust rising in my chest. "How did she even have access to all of that? You ran the firm."

"We don’t know everything yet," he confessed, his voice tight. "But she had access to corporate documents she should have never been able to reach."

I leaned forward, my knuckles turning white. "What documents?"

"Company share documents." My father’s expression hardened with deep bitterness. "She was selling off corporate shares illegally."

I stared at him in utter disbelief. "What?"

"She was selling company shares to third-party investors without any authorization."

"And the people buying them?"

"They thought they were dealing with a legitimate shareholder." Richard shook his head bitterly. "They were fake shares."

I sat back, the air leaving my lungs. For a moment, I couldn’t even speak. "How the hell did she get away with that right under your roof?"

"We’re still trying to determine how deep the paper trail goes."

I looked around the sprawling, lifeless room. All these years. All this time. She had been tearing his life and wealth apart right under his nose while he defended her.

"What about the physical abuse?" I asked, my voice dropping an octave.

Richard’s jaw clenched. "Some of the household staff came forward."

"Against her?"

"Yes." He looked down at his lap, shame written across his features. "They gave statements showing that Vanessa and her mother had been systematically intimidating, threatening, and physically mistreating employees here for years."

I swallowed down the knot in my throat. "And the prosecution has evidence?"

"More than enough."

I leaned back slowly, processing the overwhelming weight of it all. There was so much rot. So much toxicity that had been festering in this house while I was living my own life, blissfully ignorant.

And then came the one question the horrible, gut-wrenching question I had been terrified to ask out loud.

I looked directly into my father’s eyes. "Have they figured out exactly how they killed Mom?"

The room went completely, suffocatingly still.

My father’s face visibly shifted, the color draining from his skin. "They believe they know what happened."

"What medication were they giving her?" My voice cracked slightly, the composure I had built up beginning to fracture. "How did nobody notice? How did the doctors not realize something was terribly wrong?"

Richard took a slow, agonizing breath. "The state prosecutors wanted to exhume her body."

My entire body went completely rigid. "They wanted to dig her up again?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"To run comprehensive toxicology tests on her remains."

I stared at him, horror cold in my veins. "And?"

"I couldn’t do it," his voice broke, barely above a whisper. "She went through so much pain while she was alive, Justin. Putting her body through that again... it felt like an insult. A slap in her face after everything she had already endured."

I didn’t know what to say. For the first time in years, I actually understood his choice. I felt the exact same protection over her memory.

But understanding his pain didn’t erase the mountain of grief and betrayal standing between us.

"So how did they find out?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

"Her primary doctor handed over everything."

"Everything?"

"Every clinical note. Every recorded conversation. Every private medical record he had kept." Richard swallowed hard. "Detailed records of the specific medication adjustments. Conversations detailing how she was being systematically drugged over time. Discussions about what they were doing to her body."

I stared blankly at the wall behind him. My mother had been trapped, suffering in her own bed, while the people around her were deliberately pushing her closer to the grave. And she had trusted them.

I clenched my fists so tightly my nails bit into my palms. "Do you have copies of those records?"

Richard looked up at me. "Yes."

"Can I have them?"

He stood up silently. "Give me a minute."

He turned and walked upstairs. Mason didn’t say a single word beside me. Neither did I. The silence in the house pressed against us like lead.

A few minutes later, my father returned carrying a thick, heavy folder. He walked over and placed it on the glass table directly between us.

"Everything you need to know is in here," he said quietly.

I stared down at the file. It looked far heavier than paper. I reached out, my fingers trembling slightly as I pulled it into my lap. "Okay."

Richard sat back down. I looked up at him across the space.

"Do I need to bring my lawyer when I come to the courtroom?"

"If you want to." He paused, searching my face. "You don’t have to, but if having your legal counsel there gives you peace of mind, bring him."

"Okay." I gave a brief nod, hugging the thick file against my chest. "I’ll read through everything before the trial date."

"You should."

I stood up, signaling the end of the meeting. "I think my time here is done."

Richard looked up at me, his eyes filled with a desperate, lingering sadness. "I appreciate you coming, Justin."

I gripped the folder tighter. "I need to read all of this. I don’t want to walk into that courtroom next week and get taken by surprise."

"Of course."

I turned toward the hallway. Mason immediately stood and fell in step behind me.

I had almost reached the front doorway when my father’s cracked voice called out from behind us.

"Justin."

I froze. I didn’t turn around immediately.

"How have you been?" he asked. The simple, heavy question hung in the quiet air between us.

I slowly turned around to face him.

For a few long seconds, I simply looked at him. My father. The man who had once been my hero the person I ran to when the world felt too big. The man whose house had once been my absolute sanctuary.

The man I couldn’t even bring myself to hug anymore.

I offered him a small, tight, painful smile.

"I’m better than before."

Then I turned on my heel and walked out the door, with Mason right behind me.