Chapter 4 - THE UNBURIED TRUTH
Three days later, I was discharged from the hospital.
I didn't go back to my empty apartment alone. Rosa had insisted I stay at her cozy guest cottage near the harbor until I regained my strength.
My chest still felt sore, a deep, bruised ache beneath my ribs, but the medications Dr. Reed prescribed kept the spasms away. More importantly, the genetic blood panel had been sent to a specialized lab in Boston, and the results were expected within the week.
On Thursday morning, Arthur Vance—a veteran attorney specializing in medical malpractice and estate law whom Dr. Reed had personally recommended—arrived at Rosa’s cottage.
Arthur sat at the small kitchen table, spreading out a thick stack of documents.
"Maya," Arthur said, adjusting his glasses. "What Dr. Reed uncovered in your hospital intake report is devastating, but legally, it is explosive."
"What do you mean?" I asked, sipping hot tea.
"When your brother Eli died three years ago, your father filed an emergency petition as the sole legal executor to seal Eli’s medical records and waive the state coroner’s mandatory review," Arthur explained. "He claimed Eli died of an 'unforeseeable acute cardiac arrest' at home."
"He lied," I said, my hands tightening around my mug. "Eli was sick for weeks. He kept complaining of sharp pain between his shoulder blades. Richard told him he was being lazy, that he was trying to get out of starting his internship at Richard’s firm."
Arthur pulled out a copy of Eli’s death certificate. "The attending physician at the county morgue three years ago was a junior resident. He signed off on the natural causes designation without performing a full internal autopsy because Richard presented an affidavit claiming Eli had a history of anxiety."
"Anxiety," I whispered, disgust bitter on my tongue. "Eli was terrified because he couldn't breathe!"
"If your genetic test comes back positive for a hereditary vascular condition like Marfan syndrome or Loeys-Dietz syndrome," Arthur said firmly, "it proves two critical things. First, it proves Eli’s death was not an unforeseeable natural event, but a predictable genetic crisis that Richard actively refused to seek medical care for. Second, it proves Richard committed fraud when he swore under oath that there was no family history of vascular disease to seal the estate."
"Why would he seal Eli’s estate?" I asked.
Arthur looked at me gravely. "Eli had a secondary life insurance policy established by your maternal grandfather—a trust valued at two million dollars that was set to vest on Eli’s twentieth birthday. When Eli died before turning twenty, the entire trust reverted directly to Richard Bennett."
The kitchen went deathly silent.
The sunlight streaming through the window felt suddenly cold.
Two million dollars.
Eli’s life hadn't just been cut short by coldness and pride; his death had yielded a massive financial windfall for the man who let him bleed out internally on a living room sofa.
"He let my brother die for a trust fund," I whispered, the words choking in my throat.
"We don't know for certain if that was his initial motivation," Arthur said carefully. "But it proves a terrifying motive for why Richard has fought so hard to silence you, to seal the records, and to prevent any medical investigation into your family's health history."
The front door opened, and Rosa stepped inside, holding a thick FedEx envelope.
"Maya," Rosa said, her voice tense. "This just arrived from Boston Genetics."
My heart did a quick, heavy flip against my ribs.
Arthur took the envelope, pulled out the letter, and scanned the printed lines. His eyes widened slightly behind his spectacles.
"The test is positive," Arthur said softly.
He turned the paper toward me.
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PATIENT: MAYA BENNETT GENETIC TESTING PANEL: POSITIVE FOR FBN1 MUTATION (MARFAN SYNDROME - VASCULAR TYPE) NOTE: HIGH RISK FOR AORTIC ROOT ANEURYSM AND ARTERIAL DISSECTION. IMMEDIATE FAMILIAL SCREENING MANDATORY.
Arthur looked into my eyes. "Maya, this isn't just medical proof. This is a murder weapon. Eli died of a Marfan-related aortic dissection. And your father spent three years hiding it."
