Chapter 5 - The Woman Behind the CurtainThey were trapped.
Stallone slammed his shoulder against the blue door.
Nothing.
The investigators searched for another exit.
There was none.
Then the lights turned on.
A speaker crackled above them.
Helen's voice filled the room.
“You always were impatient, son.”
Stallone stared at the ceiling.
“Where are you?”
“I'm in the house.”
“You've been watching Noah.”
“Yes.”
“You ordered Mara.”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Stallone felt rage burn through him.
“Why?”
“You don't understand what I was trying to prevent.”
“You hurt my son.”
“Noah is alive.”
Stallone's eyes narrowed.
“That's your defense?”
“No. It's the reason I kept going.”
The door suddenly unlocked.
It swung open.
Helen stood outside.
She looked calm.
Almost fragile.
A woman in her late sixties wearing a cream cardigan, silver hair tied neatly behind her head.
She glanced at Stallone.
“You shouldn't have opened that room.”
Stallone stepped toward her.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Noah was being abused.”
“Yes.”
“You watched it.”
Helen's expression barely changed.
“I watched everything.”
“Then you're no better than the people who did it.”
“No.”
Her voice hardened.
“I am worse.”
The room fell silent.
Helen walked inside.
She looked at the cassette player.
“Your wife recorded that?”
“Yes.”
“She knew.”
“Knew what?”
Helen looked at Noah's father.
“That the person taking money from the family trust wasn't Julian.”
Stallone's expression changed.
“Who was it?”
Helen sat down.
“Your wife was investigating the one person she believed could never betray her.”
“Who?”
Helen looked at him.
“You.”
Stallone recoiled.
“What?”
“She thought someone was moving money through your company.”
“I wasn't.”
“I know.”
“Then why say it?”
“Because the person behind it used your identity.”
She explained.
For years, millions had been transferred through accounts connected to Stallone.
Fake signatures.
Forged authorization.
Altered digital records.
If discovered, the evidence would make Stallone look like the thief.
His wife had discovered it.
Then she had begun digging deeper.
And someone had realized she was getting close.
“Who forged the documents?”
Helen shook her head.
“We don't know.”
Stallone stared at her.
“You've had years.”
“I've been searching.”
“While my son was being tortured?”
Helen closed her eyes.
“I thought fear would make him remember.”
Stallone stared.
“Remember what?”
“The night your wife died.”
Everything stopped.
Noah had been in the car.
Stallone had never known.
He had been told Noah was home with a nanny.
Helen finally admitted that was a lie.
Noah had been with his mother shortly before the crash.
He survived.
But he was only two years old.
The trauma had buried the memory.
Helen had believed fragments were returning.
The water punishment.
The repeated questions.
The hidden cameras.
She had been trying to determine what Noah saw.
“That doesn't justify what happened to him.”
“I know.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“Because every time I tried, someone erased the evidence.”
Stallone stared at her.
“Who?”
Helen whispered:
“The person who was in the car.”
Stallone's face hardened.
“My wife was alone.”
“No.”
Helen looked at the cassette player.
“She wasn't.”
Before Stallone could respond, Noah spoke from behind him.
“I remember the window.”
Everyone turned.
The boy was staring at nothing.
“There was a hand.”
Stallone crouched.
“Whose hand?”
Noah closed his eyes.
“A man.”
“Was it Uncle Julian?”
“No.”
“Gideon?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Noah's voice became smaller.
“The man said, ‘Don't tell Daddy.’”
Stallone felt his heart pound.
“Do you remember his face?”
Noah nodded.
“What did he look like?”
The boy touched his own neck.
“He wore a red tie.”
Stallone slowly turned toward Julian's name in the investigation file.
But Helen suddenly grabbed his arm.
“Julian was wearing the tie.”
Stallone looked at her.
“You said he wasn't the one.”
“He wasn't.”
“Then who?”
Helen stared toward the hallway.
Someone was standing there.
A man in a dark suit.
Red tie.
Stallone's blood ran cold.
But it wasn't Julian.
It was his family lawyer, Richard Vale.
Richard smiled.
“I'm afraid we've run out of time.”
He raised his phone.
A video appeared on the screen.
Noah was standing in the kitchen.
The date was eight months earlier.
But this time, someone else was behind him.
A man whose face the camera clearly captured.
And when Stallone saw who it was, he dropped the cassette player.
May you like
Because the man was smiling.
At his own funeral.
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