Chapter 4 - The Truth My Father Buried
The door handle stopped moving.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody breathed.
I stared at the wooden office door, waiting for the impossible to become real.
Twenty years.
Twenty years of believing my father was gone.
Twenty years of looking at an empty chair and pretending I didn't care.
Twenty years of wondering why he left us.
And now his voice was on the other side.
"Emily."
My name sounded different coming from him.
Like a memory that had somehow escaped.
Adrian moved his wheelchair between me and the door.
"Don't open it."
I looked at him.
"That's my father."
"I know."
"Then move."
His eyes hardened.
"No."
The anger inside me exploded.
"You don't get to decide that."
Adrian didn't move.
"Emily, listen to me. The man outside is your father. But that doesn't mean you know who he is."
The words hurt more than I expected.
Because a small part of me had already wondered the same thing.
The door suddenly shook.
Not violently.
Just enough to remind us someone was there.
"Emily."
My father's voice came again.
"I know you're scared."
My eyes filled with tears.
I hated that my body recognized him before my mind could accept him.
I remembered his voice reading bedtime stories.
I remembered his hands fixing my bicycle.
I remembered him promising me:
"I'll always come home."
Then he disappeared.
I stepped toward the door.
Adrian grabbed my wrist.
"Don't."
I looked down at his hand.
Then at his face.
"Why?"
He hesitated.
And that hesitation told me more than any answer could.
"You know something."
Adrian slowly released me.
"I know what happened the night your father disappeared."
The room went silent.
"Then tell me."
He looked away.
"I can't."
My anger returned.
"Can't?"
I laughed quietly.
"My entire life was destroyed because of secrets. My mother died believing she would never know the truth. I spent years thinking my father abandoned us."
I pointed at the door.
"And now he's standing there."
My voice broke.
"You don't get to protect me from the truth anymore."
Adrian looked at me for a long moment.
Then he whispered:
"Your father didn't leave you."
I froze.
"What?"
"He ran."
"From what?"
Adrian looked toward the door.
"From the people who wanted him dead."
Before I could ask anything else, the power suddenly returned.
The lights came back.
And the security monitors turned on.
But the hallway camera showed something strange.
The corridor outside the office was empty.
My father was gone.
I rushed toward the door.
Adrian called my name.
But I didn't stop.
I opened it.
Nothing.
The hallway was empty.
No footsteps.
No person.
Only silence.
Then I noticed something on the floor.
An envelope.
My name was written on it.
Again.
I picked it up slowly.
Adrian moved closer.
"Don't open it."
I looked at him.
"Why does everyone keep telling me what not to do?"
Because nobody wanted me to know.
Nobody wanted me to see.
And that made me want the truth even more.
I opened the envelope.
Inside was another photograph.
But this time, it wasn't old.
It was recent.
My father was standing outside the Blackwood mansion.
The picture had been taken only days ago.
My hands started shaking.
"He was here."
Adrian stared at the photo.
"He has been watching."
"Why?"
He didn't answer.
I turned the picture over.
There was writing on the back.
My father's handwriting.
Three words.
"Trust no one."
I looked at Adrian.
The message suddenly felt different.
Not a warning about strangers.
A warning about everyone.
Including him.
"Did you know he was alive?"
Adrian didn't answer.
That was enough.
My chest tightened.
"You knew."
"Emily..."
"You knew."
His silence confirmed it.
I stepped back.
"How long?"
Adrian looked down.
"Since the accident."
My heart stopped.
"The accident that put you in the wheelchair?"
He nodded.
I stared at him.
"So my father was there."
"Yes."
"And you lied to me."
Adrian's expression changed.
"I was trying to keep you alive."
I shook my head.
"No."
My voice became quieter.
"You were trying to keep your secret."
Adrian didn't deny it.
That hurt more.
I turned away.
I needed air.
I needed distance.
But before I could leave, Victoria rushed into the room.
Her face was pale.
"Mr. Blackwood."
Adrian immediately looked at her.
"What happened?"
She held a tablet in her hands.
"The security system recovered deleted footage."
"From when?"
She looked at me.
"From the night your father disappeared."
My entire body went cold.
Adrian slowly reached for the tablet.
Victoria hesitated.
"There is something else."
"What?"
She swallowed.
"The footage shows your father entering the building."
Adrian looked at the screen.
"And?"
Victoria's voice became softer.
"He wasn't alone."
Nobody moved.
"Who was with him?"
Victoria looked at me.
Then at Adrian.
"The person who helped him disappear."
I stepped closer.
"Who?"
Victoria turned the tablet around.
The video was grainy.
Black and white.
But I could clearly see two people walking through the mansion entrance twenty years earlier.
One was my father.
The other person was someone I recognized.
Someone I had trusted my entire life.
My fingers tightened around the tablet.
"No..."
Adrian looked at me.
"Emily?"
I couldn't answer.
Because the person standing beside my father in the video was the last person I expected.
May you like
My mother.
And then the footage moved forward, revealing what she was carrying in her hands...
