Chapter 9 - My Mother Had Been Alive All AlongMy mother looked exactly as she had in my last memory of her.
Not older.
Not sick.
Not dead.
Alive.
She was thinner.
Her hair was almost white.
Her wrists were bruised.
But her eyes were clear.
“Damon?”
I couldn't move.
“M... Mom?”
She smiled.
“Come here.”
I dropped to my knees.
For years, I had visited her grave.
For years, I had believed cancer had taken her.
For years, I had blamed myself for not recognizing the signs sooner.
Now she was in front of me.
I touched her face.
Warm.
Real.
“You're alive.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Her eyes moved toward Victor's file.
“Because your father couldn't kill me.”
Mara shut the vault door.
Petr stayed outside.
Elias stood beside Claire.
Ellie sat near my mother.
I opened the file.
The first document was dated eleven years ago.
The second, eight years ago.
The third, four months ago.
Someone had been interviewing my mother for years.
Then I saw the signature at the bottom.
Charles Rennick.
I looked at her.
“He kept you here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he wanted to know where the trust records were.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing.”
She smiled.
“He never understood that your grandfather taught me better.”
I looked at the recorder.
“What is this?”
“My insurance.”
I pressed play.
Victor's voice filled the room.
“My name is Victor Vale.”
He sounded older.
Tired.
Afraid.
“I ordered the disappearance of Damon Vale's twin children.”
Mara closed her eyes.
Victor continued.
“I believed I was protecting them from the Rennicks.”
A pause.
“I was wrong.”
My father's voice cracked.
“Charles did not want the trust.”
“He wanted the bloodline.”
The recording changed.
Victor spoke of Daniel.
Of Claire.
Of Mara.
Of the night Daniel was killed.
Then he said something that made me stand.
“I did not fake my stroke to hide from the Rennicks.”
He paused.
“I faked it because Damon discovered what I had done.”
My mother whispered, “No.”
I looked at her.
“You knew?”
She shook her head.
Victor continued.
“Damon was fifteen when he saw me leave the Bell residence.”
My mind flashed.
A car.
Rain.
Mara crying.
My father screaming.
A body.
I had buried the memory.
Victor spoke again.
“He saw Daniel being taken.”
I staggered backward.
At fifteen, I had witnessed the beginning.
My father had erased it from me.
The recording continued.
“I arranged a memory procedure.”
I stared.
“What?”
My mother began crying.
“You were fifteen.”
“What procedure?”
“They called it therapy.”
“Why can't I remember?”
She touched my hand.
“Because they made sure you couldn't.”
I stared at the recording.
My father had spent thirty years hiding my own memories from me.
Thirty years.
Then his final words arrived.
“The person who ordered Daniel's murder was not Charles Rennick.”
The room went silent.
“Charles was following someone else's orders.”
Victor named the person.
The recording cut out.
I stared at the dead machine.
“Who?”
My mother looked at me.
Then at Mara.
Mara nodded.
My mother whispered:
“Your grandfather.”
I couldn't speak.
The entire family story collapsed in one breath.
The man I had spent thirteen years trying to live up to had been protecting a crime.
The man above him had started it.
And the woman who gave birth to me had known enough to become a prisoner.
Then footsteps stopped outside the vault.
Petr shouted.
“Damon!”
Gunfire.
The steel door shook.
Someone started cutting through it.
My mother grabbed my wrist.
“Listen to me.”
I leaned closer.
“You can't fight them.”
“Why?”
“Because the men outside are not Rennick's.”
She looked terrified.
“They belong to your family.”
The cutting stopped.
Silence.
Then a man's voice came through the door.
“Damon.”
I recognized it instantly.
My voice.
My father had once taught that voice to me.
“Open the door.”
I looked at my mother.
“Who is that?”
May you like
She whispered:
“Your other brother.”
Related Stories
