Chapter 6 - The Recording My Father Left Behind
The phone was still in Roman’s hand.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Because the sentence he had just said changed everything.
"The person who sent your father that message just called."
I stared at him.
"What message?"
Roman looked at the old room around us.
My father’s hidden office.
The place where he had stored every secret he thought I could never know.
Then he looked at the letter in my hand.
"The warning."
My fingers tightened around the paper.
"You mean the message telling me not to trust anyone?"
Roman nodded.
My heart sank.
"Who called you?"
He looked at the phone screen.
"A blocked number."
"Answer it."
Roman hesitated.
That hesitation scared me.
"Roman."
His eyes met mine.
"There are things you need to understand before we hear what they have to say."
"No."
I shook my head.
"Not anymore."
I stepped closer.
"I spent two years believing my father died peacefully."
My voice became sharper.
"Then I found out he had a secret room."
I pointed toward the shelves.
"I found out everyone around me knew more than I did."
My eyes moved to Mr. Bennett.
"And now someone who knew my father is calling from a hidden number."
I held out my hand.
"Answer it."
Roman stared at me for a moment.
Then he pressed the button.
The room became completely silent.
At first, there was only static.
A low, broken sound.
Then a voice.
"Roman."
Roman froze.
Because he knew the voice.
I saw it immediately.
The way his shoulders changed.
The way his expression disappeared.
The way his eyes moved away from us.
"Who is this?"
The voice on the phone laughed softly.
"You already know."
Roman's jaw tightened.
"That is impossible."
Mr. Bennett looked at him.
"What is it?"
Roman ignored him.
"You died."
The voice answered:
"That is what everyone was supposed to believe."
My entire body went cold.
I looked at Roman.
Then at the phone.
"Who is that?"
Roman didn't answer.
The voice continued.
"You should have protected her sooner."
Roman's eyes hardened.
"Where are you?"
"Still trying to control everything, Roman?"
A pause.
"Some things cannot be controlled."
Then the voice changed.
It became quieter.
More serious.
"Especially the truth about Thomas Evans."
My father's name.
Again.
I felt like every secret in my life led back to him.
Roman stepped forward.
"You don't get to say his name."
The voice laughed.
"Why?"
"Because you were the reason he hid."
Silence.
Roman stopped moving.
"What did you say?"
The voice continued.
"You heard me."
My heart raced.
I looked at Roman.
"You knew."
It wasn't a question.
It was an accusation.
Roman looked at me.
"I didn't know everything."
"Then what did you know?"
He didn't answer.
And I hated that.
I hated that every time I asked for the truth, I received another piece instead of the whole thing.
The voice on the phone spoke again.
"Clara."
I froze.
"How do you know my name?"
"You should ask Roman."
The call ended.
The room stayed silent.
Then I turned toward him.
"What did he mean?"
Roman looked at the phone.
"He knew your father."
"That isn't an answer."
"No."
His voice was low.
"It's not."
"Then give me one."
Roman closed his eyes briefly.
When he opened them again, he looked different.
Tired.
Like he had been carrying something alone for too long.
"Your father wasn't just hiding something from you."
He looked around the room.
"He was hiding something from me."
I didn't understand.
"What?"
Roman walked toward the desk.
He picked up the old notebook.
"Your father found a financial record."
"A ledger?"
Roman looked at me.
"Yes."
"The ledger the man mentioned?"
He nodded.
"What was inside?"
Roman's expression darkened.
"Names."
"Whose names?"
"People who paid to make problems disappear."
The answer sent a chill through me.
"Problems?"
Roman looked at the hidden room.
"People."
The word sat between us.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
My father's bakery wasn't just hiding documents.
It was hiding evidence.
Evidence someone wanted destroyed.
Mr. Bennett spoke quietly.
"Thomas discovered the truth by accident."
I turned.
"How?"
He looked ashamed.
"Your father noticed something strange in the bakery accounts."
"What kind of strange?"
"Money was being moved through businesses connected to the property developers."
I frowned.
"But why would my father care?"
"Because the money wasn't just buying buildings."
Mr. Bennett looked at me.
"It was buying silence."
The room became colder.
My father had spent his whole life baking bread.
Helping people.
Avoiding conflict.
And somehow he had discovered something powerful enough to make dangerous people come after him.
"Why didn't he go to the police?"
Roman answered.
"Because he didn't know who was involved."
I looked at him.
"You mean the police?"
Roman nodded.
"Some of them."
My stomach turned.
Everything felt bigger now.
The bakery.
The developers.
The threats.
The secrets.
All connected.
Roman opened another drawer beneath the desk.
Inside were dozens of papers.
Old photographs.
Receipts.
Documents.
But one item caught my attention.
A small digital recorder.
My father's handwriting was written across it.
For Clara.
My breath stopped.
I reached for it.
Roman didn't stop me.
I pressed the button.
For a few seconds, nothing happened.
Then my father's voice filled the room.
"Clara."
I covered my mouth.
It was him.
Not a memory.
Not something I imagined.
His actual voice.
Older.
Tired.
But still my father.
"If you are listening to this, then something happened."
My eyes filled.
I forced myself not to cry.
"I wanted to tell you everything."
A pause.
"But I couldn't."
The recording continued.
"Not because I didn't trust you."
My hands shook.
"Because you were the only person I trusted."
I looked down.
My father had hidden the truth to protect me.
Not because he thought I was weak.
Because he loved me.
"There is something you need to know about Roman Valenti."
I looked at Roman.
He stood completely still.
My father's voice continued.
"Roman is dangerous."
A silence.
"But he is not your enemy."
Roman closed his eyes.
Like hearing those words hurt.
My father continued.
"The people who want the bakery are using Roman's name to hide what they are really searching for."
I looked at the hidden shelves.
"The ledger is not the most important thing."
My breathing stopped.
"Then what is?"
The recording crackled.
My father's voice became quieter.
"The ledger only proves what happened."
A pause.
"The real evidence proves who ordered it."
Nobody spoke.
Then my father said:
"Clara, if Roman is there with you..."
The recording paused.
A long pause.
Then:
"Ask him about Isabella."
Roman's face changed.
Immediately.
I noticed.
"Who is Isabella?"
He didn't answer.
My father's recording continued.
"Because Isabella was the reason everything started."
The recorder clicked.
Then stopped.
Nobody moved.
I looked at Roman.
"Who is Isabella?"
His silence lasted too long.
"Roman."
He looked at me.
And for the first time since meeting him...
He looked afraid.
"I knew she would eventually tell you."
My heart sank.
"Tell me what?"
Roman looked toward the hidden room.
"Isabella was my sister."
I stared.
"Your sister?"
He nodded.
"And your father was the last person to see her alive."
The words hit me like a wave.
My father.
Roman's sister.
A secret nobody told me.
Another death connected to everything.
Before I could ask another question, a loud sound came from upstairs.
A crash.
Then another.
Roman immediately moved toward the stairs.
Someone was inside the bakery.
But before he reached the door...
The lights in the hidden room turned on by themselves.
A screen behind the old desk flickered.
Everyone froze.
Because the monitor showed a live video.
A room.
A chair.
A person sitting in darkness.
Then the camera moved closer.
And the person slowly lifted their head.
It was someone Roman recognized.
Someone he believed had been dead for fifteen years.
May you like
Roman whispered one name.
"Isabella."
