CHAPTER 8 — THE MAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD
CHAPTER 8 — THE MAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD
Lucas stared at the laptop screen.
He couldn’t move.
He couldn’t speak.
The name in front of him felt impossible.
A name that belonged to a person who had been gone for twelve years.
A person everyone told him was dead.
A person Lucas had buried in his heart.
His father.
Thomas Weaver.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
The walls seemed closer.
Every memory from his childhood began fighting with every new piece of information.
His father teaching him how to ride a bicycle.
His father fixing broken furniture in the garage.
His father carrying him home when he fell asleep during a family trip.
Those memories were real.
But the story surrounding his father’s death...
Maybe that was not.
“Daniel,” Lucas finally whispered.
“Tell me this is a mistake.”
Daniel looked at him carefully.
“I wish it was.”
Lucas walked away from the table.
“No.”
He shook his head.
“My father died in a car accident.”
“That’s what the official report says.”
Lucas turned.
“What does that mean?”
Daniel closed the laptop.
“It means official reports can be wrong.”
Lucas stared at him.
“Are you saying my father is alive?”
“I’m saying someone used your father’s identity after his death was announced.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I thought so too.”
Daniel opened another file.
“Until I found this.”
Inside were bank records.
Old ones.
Very old.
“Your father had an account that nobody knew about.”
Lucas looked.
“When?”
“Opened eight months before the accident.”
“Who accessed it?”
Daniel pointed.
“Someone used it three years after Thomas Weaver supposedly died.”
Lucas’s heart started beating faster.
“Who?”
Daniel looked at him.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
Lucas spent the next hour searching through every memory he had of that time.
The accident.
The funeral.
The phone calls.
The people who came to comfort them.
Richard.
Martin Caldwell.
Even Gwendolyn.
Back then, she had not been his wife yet.
She had been his girlfriend.
A young woman who stayed beside him during the darkest moment of his life.
A woman who told him:
“Lucas, I will never leave you.”
Those words suddenly felt different.
Because what if she wasn’t comforting him?
What if she was positioning herself closer to the family?
Closer to the inheritance?
Closer to the secrets?
Lucas hated that thought.
Because part of him still wanted to defend the woman he loved.
But the evidence kept building.
And evidence did not care about memories.
That afternoon, Lucas returned to the old Weaver estate.
He had not visited in years.
After his father’s death, Florence moved away.
The house became a place filled with too many memories.
Too many empty rooms.
Too many reminders.
But today, Lucas needed answers.
The house stood quietly at the end of a long driveway.
Old.
Beautiful.
And full of secrets.
He unlocked the door.
The smell immediately brought him back.
The wooden floors.
The old furniture.
The fireplace where his father used to sit every winter.
Lucas walked slowly through the rooms.
Every corner held a memory.
Then he reached his father’s study.
The room nobody was allowed to enter after the accident.
Not even Lucas.
His mother always said:
“Your father’s things should stay untouched.”
At the time, he thought it was grief.
Now...
He wondered if it was protection.
Lucas opened the door.
Dust covered everything.
A large wooden desk sat near the window.
Books lined the walls.
Old documents filled the shelves.
He searched carefully.
Nothing.
Then he remembered something.
His father always had a habit.
Whenever he wanted to hide something important...
He never hid it where people looked.
He hid it where people ignored.
Lucas looked at the floor.
The old carpet.
He moved it aside.
A small metal lock appeared.
His heart raced.
A hidden compartment.
The same kind of hidden place where Gwendolyn kept her documents.
Lucas found the key taped beneath the desk.
His father’s old trick.
A smile almost appeared on his face.
“Still the same, Dad.”
He opened it.
Inside was a small box.
And inside that box...
A letter.
With his name written on it.
Lucas.
His hands trembled.
He opened it.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
His father’s handwriting.
"Lucas,
If you are reading this, then something happened that forced you to look for answers.
I hoped you would never need to see this.
I hoped I could protect you from the darkness surrounding our family.
But some truths cannot stay buried forever.
Your uncle Richard betrayed me.
He did not just steal money.
He tried to destroy everything I built.
I discovered he was moving company assets into hidden accounts.
But Richard was not working alone.
There was someone else helping him.
Someone I never expected.
Someone close to you.
If anything happens to me, do not trust anyone who suddenly appears with answers.
The person who benefits most from my disappearance is the person you should fear.
Protect your mother.
Protect yourself.
And remember this.
The Weaver family fortune was never the most valuable thing I left behind.
The most valuable thing was the truth.
Your father,
Thomas Weaver."
Lucas lowered the letter.
His hands were shaking.
Not from fear.
From grief.
Because for twelve years...
He thought his father abandoned him.
Now he realized something worse.
His father may have been trying to protect him.
A sound suddenly came from behind.
Lucas turned.
Nobody.
But the feeling remained.
Someone was watching.
He quickly folded the letter.
Then his phone vibrated.
A message.
Unknown number.
Only one sentence.
“Stop digging into your father’s death.”
Lucas stared.
Another message arrived.
“You already lost one parent. Don’t lose another.”
His blood ran cold.
Because whoever sent it knew about Florence.
And they knew what Lucas was doing.
He looked around the empty house.
Someone had followed him.
Someone knew.
That night, Lucas returned home.
But before entering, he noticed something.
The front door was slightly open.
He never left it open.
His hand moved slowly toward his phone.
He entered quietly.
The house was dark.
Too dark.
“Mom?”
No answer.
His heart started racing.
He ran toward Florence’s room.
Empty.
The bed was untouched.
The window was open.
A piece of paper sat on the pillow.
Lucas grabbed it.
Three words were written:
“You should have stopped.”
His entire body froze.
Then he heard a sound.
A car leaving.
Lucas ran outside.
But it was already gone.
Only one thing remained.
A small object lying on the ground.
A silver bracelet.
His mother’s bracelet.
The one she never removed.
Lucas picked it up.
His face changed.
Because now he knew.
This was no longer about money.
They were escalating.
They had taken Florence.
And they wanted him to know one thing.
They could reach anyone.
Anywhere.
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
Lucas answered.
A voice spoke.
A voice he had not heard in twelve years.
A voice that should not exist.
“Lucas.”
He stopped breathing.
Because the voice said:
“Your mother is alive.”
A pause.
“But if you want her back...”
Lucas gripped the phone.
“Who are you?”
The voice became quieter.
“Your father.”
The call ended.
Lucas stood frozen in the darkness.
His father.
Alive.
His mother kidnapped.
His wife involved.
His uncle hiding secrets.
The entire life he knew had collapsed.
And somewhere in the middle of all these lies...
May you like
Thomas Weaver was waiting.
END OF CHAPTER 8
