Chapter 3 - The Secret Behind My Father's Last Message
The photograph fell from my hand onto the floor.
I stared at it.
Then I picked it up again.
Because my eyes had to be wrong.
They had to be.
The man standing beside my father couldn't be real.
He couldn't exist.
Not after fifteen years.
Not after the funeral.
Not after I watched the world move on without him.
But there he was.
Standing beside my father.
Older.
Different.
Alive.
My father's closest friend.
The man everyone told me had died the same year my father did.
Daniel Cross.
I remembered him clearly.
He was the person who taught me how to throw a baseball.
The man who used to bring me ice cream after my father worked late.
The man who stood beside my family during the funeral.
The man who looked me in the eyes and said:
"Your father loved you more than anything."
Then he disappeared.
Or at least, that's what I believed.
I looked at Lily.
She was watching me carefully.
Like she already knew this photograph would break something inside me.
"Who is that man?" I asked.
Her small voice answered.
"I don't know."
"Where did your grandmother get this?"
She looked down.
"She said it belonged to someone who tried to help us."
Us.
That word stayed in my mind.
Not her.
Not my grandmother.
Us.
I looked back at the photograph.
My father was standing outside the same building from the other picture.
But this time, Daniel Cross was beside him.
And both of them looked serious.
Like they weren't taking a family photo.
Like they were documenting something.
Something dangerous.
I picked up my phone and searched Daniel Cross.
The result appeared instantly.
Daniel Cross.
Former executive partner at Reed International.
Reportedly deceased.
Cause of death: vehicle accident.
Date of death:
Three months after my father's death.
I stared at the screen.
Two deaths.
Three months apart.
Both connected to my company.
Both involving men who knew the truth about something.
And both people who left behind questions nobody wanted answered.
I walked toward my office.
"Lily, stay here with Eleanor."
She grabbed my sleeve.
"Are you leaving?"
The question surprised me.
Not because she asked.
Because of the fear in her voice.
Like people always left.
I lowered myself.
"I'm not leaving."
She looked at me.
"I'm just trying to find answers."
She slowly released my sleeve.
"Grandma said answers can be dangerous."
I looked at her.
"Why?"
She whispered:
"Because sometimes people hurt you when they don't want you to know the truth."
Those words didn't sound like something a child invented.
Someone had taught her that.
Someone had made her afraid.
And I was beginning to understand that whoever had hidden this secret wasn't afraid of hurting adults.
They were willing to hurt children too.
I walked into my office and locked the door.
For the first time in years, I ignored every rule I had created for myself.
I wasn't thinking like a CEO.
I wasn't thinking about money.
I wasn't thinking about reputation.
I was thinking like a son who realized his father had spent his final days trying to tell him something.
I opened every old company database I had access to.
Nothing.
Daniel Cross.
Nothing.
The building from the photographs.
Nothing.
The project files from fifteen years ago.
Nothing.
Someone had erased everything.
Not hidden.
Erased.
That meant whoever did this had access to the company.
Someone powerful.
Someone who understood exactly how to remove evidence.
Then I remembered something.
My father always kept physical copies.
He didn't trust computers.
He used to tell me:
"Technology remembers everything. That's why dangerous people love it."
I searched through old family storage records.
Most of my father's belongings had been moved after his death.
But one location remained.
A private storage facility outside the city.
A place nobody knew about.
Except me.
Or at least, I thought nobody knew.
I grabbed my coat.
When I walked out, Eleanor was waiting.
"You found something."
It wasn't a question.
I looked at her.
"You knew about Daniel Cross."
Her face changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
"You knew he was alive."
Eleanor looked away.
"I knew your father believed he was."
"That's not the same thing."
"No."
She sighed.
"It's not."
I stepped closer.
"What happened fifteen years ago?"
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then she looked at Lily.
"The night your father died wasn't an accident."
The room went silent.
I felt like the floor moved beneath me.
"What did you say?"
Eleanor's eyes filled with regret.
"Your father found out someone inside Reed International was stealing from innocent families."
"Stealing?"
She nodded.
"Using the company to take advantage of people who had no power."
I looked at Lily.
My stomach tightened.
"Was her family one of them?"
Eleanor didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
I already knew.
Before I could ask more, my phone vibrated.
A message.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
One sentence.
"Stop digging into your father's mistakes."
My blood ran cold.
Because seconds later, another message arrived.
A photograph.
I opened it.
It showed my penthouse.
Taken from outside.
The picture was recent.
Very recent.
And standing near the entrance of my building was someone wearing a dark coat.
Someone watching.
Someone who knew where I lived.
I looked at Eleanor.
"We're leaving."
She looked confused.
"What?"
"Now."
I grabbed Lily's hand.
Marcus prepared the car within minutes.
As we drove away from the building, I watched the reflection in the window.
The black SUV from the bakery was behind us.
Same vehicle.
Same person.
Following.
"Marcus."
He looked in the mirror.
"Yes, sir?"
"Do you recognize that car?"
His expression changed.
Only for a second.
But I noticed.
"You do."
He didn't answer.
"Marcus."
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
"Mr. Reed, there are things I should have told you years ago."
I stared at him.
"What things?"
He looked at me through the mirror.
"Your father didn't die because of a car accident."
The words hit harder than I expected.
I felt Lily move closer beside me.
"Then how did he die?"
Marcus was silent.
The city lights passed across his face.
Finally, he spoke.
"He was trying to protect someone."
"Who?"
Marcus looked at Lily.
And that was when I understood.
My father wasn't investigating a random case.
He wasn't chasing money.
He wasn't protecting the company.
He was protecting a child.
A child everyone wanted forgotten.
We arrived at the storage facility thirty minutes later.
The place was old.
Quiet.
Almost abandoned.
Marcus stayed near the car.
I took Lily inside.
The manager recognized my name immediately.
"Mr. Reed?"
"Storage unit 427."
His expression changed.
"You know about that?"
I froze.
"About what?"
The manager looked nervous.
"Someone came here last week."
"Who?"
He swallowed.
"They said they were from your family."
"My family?"
He nodded.
"They asked for everything inside."
My heart started beating faster.
"Did you give it to them?"
"No."
"Why?"
The manager reached into his pocket and pulled out a small key.
"Because your father left instructions."
I took the key.
"What instructions?"
The manager looked at Lily.
Then at me.
"He said only one person was allowed to open it."
"Who?"
The old man's voice became quiet.
"You."
I unlocked unit 427.
The door slowly opened.
Inside was darkness.
Dust.
Old boxes.
And one large wooden container sitting in the center.
My father's handwriting was burned into the lid.
A single sentence.
"Nathan, if you found this, they already know."
I reached for the box.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then a voice whispered:
"Don't open that box."
I froze.
Because I knew that voice.
I had heard it before.
Fifteen years ago.
At my father's funeral.
The voice of the man who told me my father was gone.
The voice of the man who had disappeared.
May you like
Daniel Cross.
And behind me, inside the storage unit, the wooden box suddenly clicked open by itself.
