Chapter 5: The Son My Father Never Claimed
The house went completely dark.
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Then I heard footsteps upstairs.
Slow.
Heavy.
One step.
Then another.
Daniel immediately pulled out his phone and switched on the flashlight.
Andrew grabbed my wrist.
“Stay behind me.”
I tore my hand away.
“Don't touch me.”
His face tightened.
“You don't understand. Someone could be inside.”
“You just told me you're my father's son.”
“And someone may have heard that conversation.”
“That isn't an answer.”
Another floorboard creaked upstairs.
Daniel looked toward the staircase.
“Stay here.”
He started walking.
Andrew followed.
I grabbed the flashlight from the kitchen counter and went after them.
The staircase seemed endless in the darkness.
At the top, the hallway was empty.
The bedroom door stood open.
Our bedroom.
I had left it closed.
Daniel pushed it wider.
Nothing.
Then I noticed the wedding photograph.
It was lying face down on the floor.
The wall behind it was empty.
Someone had removed the hidden compartment.
I rushed toward it.
“What's missing?”
Daniel examined the opening.
“Something was here.”
“What?”
He pointed to a rectangular mark.
“Probably another box.”
I looked at Andrew.
He was staring at the wall.
“You knew.”
He didn't answer.
“You knew there was another compartment.”
“I suspected.”
“You suspected?”
He swallowed.
“Your father didn't trust me.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“He didn't trust anyone.”
Andrew looked away.
I picked up the wedding photograph.
The glass had cracked.
Our smiling faces were split by a jagged line.
For some reason, that felt strangely appropriate.
“Tell me everything.”
Andrew didn't respond.
“Now.”
He finally sat on the edge of the bed.
His shoulders dropped.
For the first time since I'd known him, he looked exhausted.
“Your father and my mother knew each other before I was born.”
I stared at him.
“How?”
“They worked together.”
“Doing what?”
“Real estate.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It does if you know what happened twenty-four years ago.”
He looked at the photograph.
“My mother was twenty-four.”
I crossed my arms.
“Go on.”
“She was working for your father.”
“What kind of work?”
“Property acquisitions.”
My stomach tightened.
“Then what?”
“They had an affair.”
I closed my eyes.
“No.”
“Your mother knew.”
My eyes opened.
“My mother?”
“She found out.”
I stared at him.
“My parents were married.”
“I know.”
“And you expect me to believe my father had an affair with Lorraine?”
“I don't expect you to believe anything.”
“Then why are you telling me?”
“Because you asked for the truth.”
I turned away.
My entire childhood suddenly felt unstable.
The memories.
Family dinners.
My father leaving for business trips.
My mother waiting by the window.
Lorraine appearing in our lives years later.
All of it suddenly looked different.
“What happened to the baby?”
Andrew looked at me.
“Me.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You were raised by Lorraine.”
“Yes.”
“Then why was your name Carter?”
“My mother gave me your father's surname.”
I stared at him.
“But your father never claimed you.”
“He couldn't.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother threatened to expose him.”
My chest tightened.
“My mother?”
Andrew nodded.
“She knew about the affair. She told him that if he acknowledged me, she'd divorce him and take everything.”
“That doesn't explain why he left me the house.”
“He didn't.”
I froze.
“What?”
“The house wasn't a gift.”
Andrew stood.
“It was protection.”
“For me?”
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
“From what?”
He hesitated.
“From me.”
Silence.
My heartbeat seemed deafening.
“My father knew what I would become?”
“He knew what my mother wanted.”
“Which was?”
“The trust.”
I looked at the green folder.
Andrew continued.
“My mother believed your father owed her.”
“Owed her?”
“She claimed he promised to support me.”
“And he refused?”
“He gave her money.”
“How much?”
“Enough to keep her quiet.”
I thought about the inheritance.
The bank transfers.
The strange withdrawals.
The missing money.
“Until she came back.”
Andrew nodded.
“She came back when your father died.”
I swallowed.
“And you?”
“I was already in your life.”
My stomach turned.
“You met me because of him?”
Andrew looked at the floor.
“Yes.”
The room seemed to shrink around me.
“You knew who I was.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about my inheritance.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about the house.”
“Yes.”
“You married me because of it.”
He didn't answer.
That silence was enough.
I felt something inside me break.
Not loudly.
Quietly.
Like ice cracking beneath someone's feet.
I walked to the window.
Outside, rain had begun falling.
I stared into the darkness.
“Seven years.”
Andrew said nothing.
“Seven years of my life.”
Still nothing.
“I loved you.”
His voice was barely audible.
“I know.”
I turned.
“Did you ever love me?”
His eyes met mine.
For a moment, I thought he might tell the truth.
Then he said:
“At first, no.”
My heart sank.
“At first?”
He looked away.
“Things changed.”
“When?”
“I don't know.”
“That's convenient.”
“I did love you.”
“But you still planned to take the house.”
“I was trapped.”
“By whom?”
“My mother.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“She threatened me.”
“With what?”
Andrew hesitated.
“Evidence.”
“What evidence?”
“About your father.”
“What did she have?”
“I don't know.”
“You've been working for her.”
“No.”
“You said she threatened you.”
“Yes.”
“Then what did she want?”
“The trust documents.”
I looked toward the hidden compartment.
“And File 17-B?”
Andrew's face changed.
“That file was never supposed to exist.”
“But it does.”
“Your father created it.”
“What is inside?”
Andrew shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“I swear.”
Then something crashed downstairs.
We all froze.
Daniel looked toward the hallway.
“Someone's here.”
He moved toward the stairs.
Andrew grabbed his arm.
“Wait.”
“Why?”
“Because if they came for the documents, they know where they are.”
I looked down at the green folder.
The trust.
The photograph.
The letter.
Everything suddenly seemed dangerous.
Daniel whispered:
“Where is Lorraine?”
Andrew shook his head.
“I don't know.”
My phone vibrated.
A message.
Unknown number.
YOU HAVE TEN MINUTES.
Another message arrived.
BRING FILE 17-B TO THE LAKE COTTAGE.
Then another.
COME ALONE.
My blood ran cold.
I showed Daniel.
He immediately shook his head.
“Don't go.”
Andrew looked at the screen.
“They have my mother.”
“You don't know that.”
“They sent me a photo.”
He pulled out his phone.
The image showed Lorraine.
She was sitting in a chair.
Her hands were tied.
Her face was bruised.
I stared at the photograph.
There was something strange behind her.
A wooden wall.
A clock.
A painting.
I recognized it.
“The lake cottage.”
Andrew nodded.
“They're there.”
Daniel studied the photograph.
“Could be staged.”
“Then we check.”
I looked at Andrew.
“You're coming with me.”
He shook his head.
“They told you to come alone.”
“I'm not going alone.”
“If they see me, they'll hurt her.”
I looked at him.
“You care about her.”
“She is still my mother.”
After everything I'd learned, that sentence should have made me hate him.
Instead, I felt something else.
Pity.
Maybe that was worse.
I picked up the green folder.
Then the black envelope containing File 17-B.
“I'll go.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“No.”
“I have to.”
“We call the police.”
“What if they kill Lorraine?”
He didn't answer.
Andrew stared at me.
“You shouldn't do this.”
I looked at him.
“You're the reason I'm doing it.”
He lowered his eyes.
I grabbed my keys.
As I reached the front door, I noticed something on the floor.
A tiny silver object.
I picked it up.
A cufflink.
Black metal.
Engraved with a single letter.
M.
I looked at Daniel.
“What is this?”
He examined it.
“Could belong to someone.”
Andrew suddenly stepped closer.
His face changed.
“I know that cufflink.”
“Whose is it?”
He swallowed.
“My father's.”
I stared at him.
“Your father is dead.”
“That’s what I was told.”
The room went silent.
I looked at the cufflink again.
Then toward the dark hallway.
A horrible possibility entered my mind.
My father's letter had said:
He is alive. Find him.
Andrew's biological father.
My father's old business partner.
The man everyone believed was dead.
Could they be the same person?
My phone vibrated again.
One final message appeared.
STOP ASKING QUESTIONS.
Then a photograph arrived.
It showed the lake cottage.
The front door was open.
Someone was standing inside.
I zoomed in.
The man's face was barely visible.
But I recognized the suit.
The black cufflinks.
And the silver watch.
I had seen those things before.
In my father's old photographs.
My hands went cold.
I whispered:
“Dad?”
Andrew looked at me.
“What?”
I showed him the photograph.
His face went white.
“That can't be him.”
“Why?”
“Because I saw him die.”
I stared at him.
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
“Who?”
“My father.”
He pointed at the photograph.
Then whispered:
“That's not him.”
I looked closer.
The man in the doorway slowly turned toward the camera.
And suddenly I realized who he was.
Not my father.
Not Andrew's father.
Someone else.
Someone I had seen standing beside my father in the photograph from seven years ago.
Someone whose name appeared on the first page of File 17-B.
Michael Carter's lawyer.
The man who had handled my father's entire estate.
And according to the message on my phone, he was waiting for me at the lake cottage.
I looked at the clock.
Eight minutes remained.
Then I heard the front door lock behind me.
I turned.
Nobody was there.
But a woman's voice came from the darkness of the hallway.
“Don't go to the cottage.”
I froze.
Lorraine stepped out of the shadows.
Her face was bruised.
Her clothes were soaked from the rain.
And she was holding a gun.
She looked directly at Andrew.
Then at me.
“I finally found out who betrayed us.”
May you like
She raised the gun toward the staircase.
“And it isn't the man you think.”
