Chapter 8: The Betrayal Hidden Inside My Family
Chapter 8: The Betrayal Hidden Inside My Family
The words echoed through the old workshop.
Someone your father loved.
I stared at Mr. Harris.
Waiting.
Waiting for him to say he was wrong.
Waiting for him to laugh and tell me it was a misunderstanding.
But he didn't.
He just stood there.
Holding the folder.
Looking like a man who had carried a secret for too long and finally became too tired to hold it anymore.
My mother took a step back.
"No."
Her voice was barely audible.
Mr. Harris looked at her.
And that reaction told me everything.
My mother knew.
Not the whole truth.
But enough.
"Mom?"
She didn't answer.
"Mom, what is he talking about?"
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Caleb..."
"No."
I shook my head.
"Don't do that."
"What?"
"Don't look at me like I'm too young to know."
The sentence hurt her.
I could see it.
But I couldn't stop.
Not anymore.
For three years, everyone had decided what I could handle.
Everyone had chosen what I should know.
Everyone had protected me by hiding the truth.
And now I was standing in the middle of my father's abandoned workshop, surrounded by secrets.
I was done being kept in the dark.
Mr. Harris placed the folder on the table.
"Before you hear anything else, you need to understand one thing."
I looked at him.
"Your mother did not cause your father's death."
The air left my lungs.
I hadn't even considered that.
Not consciously.
But the fear in Mr. Harris's eyes made me realize how close my mind was to the darkest possibility.
"Then who?"
He opened the folder.
Inside were documents.
Photographs.
Reports.
Emails.
My father's research notes.
And one photograph.
He placed it on the table.
My stomach dropped.
It was my father.
Standing in this same workshop.
But he wasn't alone.
Beside him was a woman.
A woman I recognized.
My mother.
But the picture was different from the ones I had seen before.
She wasn't just standing beside him.
She was holding a folder.
A folder with the Arcadia Research Division logo.
I looked at my mother.
"What is this?"
She couldn't answer.
Mr. Harris spoke.
"Your father discovered that someone inside his own home was communicating with Arcadia."
My mother closed her eyes.
"Stop."
Mr. Harris looked at her.
"I wish I could."
I looked between them.
"What does that mean?"
My mother finally spoke.
Her voice broke.
"It means I made a mistake."
The words felt impossible.
My mother?
The person who stayed beside me?
The person who protected me?
The person who cried with me after my father died?
A mistake wasn't enough to explain that.
"What did you do?"
She sat down.
Slowly.
Like her body had suddenly become too heavy.
"Before your father died..."
She took a breath.
"I was helping Arcadia."
Silence.
I couldn't understand the sentence.
The words existed.
But my brain refused to connect them.
"Why?"
She looked at me.
And I saw something I had never seen before.
Shame.
"Because I thought I was helping your father."
Mr. Harris crossed his arms.
"She didn't know the entire plan."
My mother looked at him.
"That doesn't change what happened."
"What happened?"
She looked down.
"Your father discovered I had been sharing information."
My heart tightened.
"You betrayed him."
The words escaped.
My mother flinched.
And immediately, I regretted saying them.
But the pain was already there.
Between us.
"I didn't know they wanted his research."
She wiped her tears.
"They told me they wanted to help him."
I stared.
"Help him?"
She nodded.
"They said Arcadia would protect his work."
Mr. Harris shook his head.
"They lied."
My mother looked at him.
"I know."
Her voice cracked.
"I know now."
The workshop became silent again.
Then I asked the question I was afraid to ask.
"Did Dad know?"
Nobody answered.
That was the answer.
My mother's tears fell.
"Yes."
I stepped back.
"He knew?"
She nodded.
"He found out two days before the fire."
My chest felt tight.
"What did he say?"
My mother covered her face.
"He said he wasn't angry."
That surprised me.
Because I knew my father.
He hated hurting people.
"He said he was disappointed."
Those words hurt more.
Because anger can disappear.
Disappointment stays.
"What happened after that?"
Mr. Harris answered.
"Arthur contacted me."
I looked at him.
"He told me someone close to him had made a mistake."
A pause.
"He didn't want revenge."
That sounded like my father.
"He wanted to fix it."
My mother cried harder.
"He told me he still loved me."
I looked away.
Because hearing that hurt.
My father had been betrayed.
But he still loved the person who hurt him.
That was who he was.
Too kind for a world that didn't always deserve kindness.
"But then he died."
Nobody spoke.
Finally, Mr. Harris opened another document.
"This is why we need to find the truth."
He placed it in front of me.
It was a report.
A fire investigation report.
But something was different.
A section had been highlighted.
Cause of Incident: Unknown Chemical Reaction.
Below it was another note.
Evidence suggests external interference.
I looked at him.
"This proves someone caused the fire."
Mr. Harris nodded.
"Yes."
"Then why didn't anyone see this?"
"Because the report was changed."
"By Arcadia?"
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
I looked at my mother.
She looked broken.
But there was something else.
Fear.
"What aren't you telling me?"
She looked up.
"What?"
"You know something else."
She froze.
Mr. Harris noticed too.
"Sarah."
My mother's face changed.
"Don't."
The way he said her name.
The way she reacted.
There was another secret.
A bigger one.
I stood up.
"Tell me."
My mother looked at the floor.
"I didn't just give Arcadia information."
The room went quiet.
"What else?"
Her hands trembled.
"I gave them something your father trusted me with."
My heart sank.
"What?"
She looked at the wooden robot.
The same robot my father had hidden the message inside.
"The location of his final research."
Nobody moved.
My father's final discovery.
The thing Dr. Reed had been searching for.
The thing that started all of this.
My mother had unknowingly helped them find it.
"But they never found it."
Mr. Harris said.
"Because Arthur moved it before they arrived."
I looked at the folder.
At the photograph.
At my father's message.
Everything connected.
Except one question remained.
"Where did Dad move it?"
Mr. Harris looked at me.
And for the first time...
He looked afraid.
"Caleb."
"What?"
"Your father didn't hide his research in a building."
A pause.
"He hid it somewhere nobody would ever search."
I frowned.
"Where?"
Mr. Harris looked at the wooden robot.
Then at me.
"Inside something only you would remember."
My mind raced.
A memory.
Something ordinary.
Something from childhood.
Something my father and I shared.
Then suddenly...
I remembered.
A place.
A day.
A promise.
The last place my father ever took me before he died.
The place where he said:
"One day, this will all make sense."
I whispered the answer.
"The lake."
Mr. Harris looked at me.
"Yes."
My mother looked confused.
"What lake?"
I turned toward her.
"The lake where Dad taught me how to build things."
Mr. Harris nodded slowly.
"Arthur hid the final piece there."
Then his expression changed.
Because he realized something.
Something terrible.
"He didn't just hide it there."
I looked at him.
"What?"
Mr. Harris's voice dropped.
"He left a message there."
A pause.
"For whoever found it first."
My heart started racing.
"Who found it?"
Mr. Harris looked toward the dark window.
May you like
And whispered:
"Someone found it three years ago."
