Chapter 9: Echoes of a Father's Voice
The word hung in the air.
"Son..."
Marcus forgot how to breathe.
His father's voice echoed through the underground tunnel exactly as he remembered it.
Warm.
Steady.
Protective.
Sarah had once joked that Richard Ashford could calm an entire room simply by speaking.
Marcus hadn't heard that voice in six years.
Not since he stood beside a polished oak casket at the funeral.
His knees weakened.
"Dad...?"
Silence answered.
Then the voice came again.
"If you're alive..."
"...answer me."
Marcus took one hesitant step toward the open tunnel.
"Dad!"
Detective Reeves immediately grabbed his arm.
"Stop."
Marcus pulled away.
"That's my father!"
"No."
Reeves' tone was firm.
"That's a recording."
Marcus froze.
The detective pointed his flashlight toward the tunnel wall.
Hidden behind loose bricks...
A weathered speaker.
Benjamin Hart sighed.
"Richard built an emergency guidance system."
Marcus slowly lowered his head.
Of course.
Another recording.
Another piece of the past.
His father was still gone.
The recording continued.
"Marcus..."
"If you've reached this point..."
"...then Benjamin failed to protect the archive."
Hart looked away, guilt washing over his face.
"I'm sorry..."
The recording carried on.
"Don't blame him."
"Everything that happened after my death was already in motion."
Marcus frowned.
His father had expected this.
Years before he died.
The speaker crackled.
"You are standing inside the Beaumont Archive."
Marcus exchanged a glance with Reeves.
His father knew.
He had known Marcus's biological family all along.
The realization stung.
Why had he never told him?
As if anticipating the question, Richard's recorded voice answered.
"If you're angry because we kept the truth from you..."
"...you have every right."
Marcus closed his eyes.
"Your mother and I promised ourselves we would tell you when you turned eighteen."
The words hit like a hammer.
Eighteen.
Marcus had been seventeen when the car accident happened.
The crash that left him battling depression for years.
The year after...
His father suffered a fatal heart attack.
Then their mother became ill.
Life had stolen every opportunity.
Richard continued.
"Then everything fell apart."
Marcus whispered,
"It wasn't your fault."
For the first time since entering the archive...
His anger toward his parents disappeared completely.
The recording shifted.
The tone became more serious.
"Marcus."
"There is one lie I must correct."
Everyone listened.
Even Victoria.
"Victoria did many terrible things."
Marcus glanced at his sister.
Her shoulders trembled.
"But she never stole because she wanted luxury."
Marcus frowned.
Richard continued.
"Every dollar she moved..."
"...was used to buy silence."
Detective Reeves looked at Hart.
"Silence?"
Hart nodded slowly.
"I wondered where the money went."
Richard explained.
"Bribes."
"New identities."
"Safe houses."
"Medical treatment."
"Private investigators."
Marcus stared at Victoria.
"You..."
She couldn't look at him.
"I emptied everything."
Marcus remembered the offshore accounts.
The missing trust funds.
The hidden transactions.
Not a single luxury car.
No yachts.
No mansions overseas.
The money had disappeared.
He had assumed greed.
Now...
Another possibility emerged.
Richard's voice softened.
"Your sister made choices I could never approve of."
Victoria silently cried.
"But every terrible choice she made..."
"...began with one desperate goal."
Marcus whispered,
"Protect me."
The recording answered.
"Yes."
Sarah quietly spoke.
"Then why forge the will?"
Victoria finally answered herself.
"Because if Marcus inherited the estate..."
"...his legal identity would be audited."
Marcus stared.
"What?"
Benjamin Hart nodded.
"Large inheritance transfers trigger extensive legal verification."
Marcus felt sick.
The forged will hadn't only stolen his inheritance.
It had hidden him from the world.
Richard continued.
"I disagreed with Victoria."
"Your mother disagreed with Victoria."
"But fear changes people."
Marcus looked toward his sister.
She wasn't the woman he'd imagined.
Nor was she innocent.
She had sacrificed morality to protect a secret.
The cost had been devastating.
The speaker crackled again.
"If you've reached this archive..."
"...the Director already knows who you are."
Reeves quietly muttered,
"I was afraid of that."
Richard continued.
"Then stop running."
Marcus frowned.
"Stop running?"
"Expose everything."
"End it."
Benjamin Hart suddenly looked confused.
"Wait..."
He hurried toward an old filing cabinet.
"Richard mentioned one final file."
He searched frantically.
Drawer after drawer.
Then...
He found a false bottom.
Hidden beneath it lay a single black envelope.
Across the front, Richard had written:
OPEN ONLY WHEN MARCUS KNOWS HIS NAME.
Marcus carefully opened it.
Inside was a birth certificate.
The original.
Name:
Michael James Beaumont
Date of Birth:
Thirty-one years earlier.
He stared at it silently.
For the first time in his life...
He knew the name he'd been born with.
Beneath the certificate lay another sheet.
Not handwritten.
Typed.
It contained only one sentence.
The Director's real name is...
The page ended there.
Blank.
Marcus frowned.
"What?"
Hart looked closer.
"No..."
"There should be another page."
Someone had removed it.
Recently.
The torn edge was fresh.
Victoria suddenly looked toward the tunnel.
Her expression changed instantly.
"We're not alone."
Everyone turned.
A slow clap echoed from the darkness.
One.
Two.
Three.
A tall figure emerged from the shadows.
Elegant charcoal suit.
Silver hair.
Black leather gloves.
He smiled politely.
"I've spent twenty years looking for that envelope."
Marcus recognized the voice immediately.
The Director.
For the first time...
He wasn't speaking through speakers.
He was standing only a few meters away.
He looked directly at Marcus.
"Michael Beaumont."
He smiled warmly.
May you like
"It's time we finally met."
End of Chapter 9
