Chapter 5 - The Woman In The Video
The screen froze.
The woman standing beside my father remained motionless.
But I knew her.
I knew the shape of her face.
I knew the way she held her shoulders.
I knew the small scar near her left eyebrow.
Because I had seen that scar every morning when I looked in the mirror.
Except the woman on the screen was not me.
She was older.
Different.
And impossible.
My mother stepped closer.
"Lena."
I didn't answer.
I couldn't.
My eyes stayed fixed on the video.
My father appeared younger than I remembered.
The last image I had of him was from the hospital.
Weak.
Tired.
Holding my hand while promising me everything would be okay.
Three days later, he was gone.
At least, that was what I had been told.
But now he was standing in front of a camera.
Alive.
Focused.
Terrified.
"If you are watching this," my father said, "then the people I was trying to stop have already found you."
The video paused for half a second.
Then continued.
"I need you to understand something, Lena."
My heart tightened.
He was speaking directly to me.
Not the camera.
Me.
"You were never supposed to live under that name."
My fingers gripped the edge of the desk.
My mother looked away.
She couldn't watch.
She already knew.
"Your mother and I made a choice," my father continued.
"We changed your identity because your original name had become a target."
The screen flickered.
The image became distorted.
Then another file appeared.
A document.
A birth record.
The same one my mother had shown me.
But now there was something different.
A handwritten note at the bottom.
My father's handwriting.
I recognized it immediately.
"She must never know until she is ready."
I felt my chest tighten.
Until she is ready.
Not until she is safe.
Not until she is old enough.
Ready.
That meant he knew one day I would discover everything.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I whispered.
My mother didn't answer.
Because she knew I wasn't asking her.
I was asking him.
The man who was no longer there.
The video continued.
"There are people who believe Lena Hartwell died years ago."
I froze.
Died.
The word felt impossible.
"I made them believe that because the person they were searching for no longer existed."
My father looked directly into the camera.
"But I was wrong."
The screen went black.
Then a new image appeared.
A file photo.
A young girl.
Me.
But the name underneath wasn't Lena Hartwell.
It was another name.
A name I had never seen.
My mother reached for the keyboard.
I stopped her.
"No."
She looked at me.
"I need to know."
"Lena."
"No."
My voice shook.
"But I need to know."
I clicked the next page.
A list appeared.
Dates.
Locations.
People.
One name immediately caught my attention.
Thomas Hale.
Preston's father.
I stared at it.
The connection was no longer a suspicion.
It was real.
My entire marriage had been connected to something I never understood.
The man I married.
The family I entered.
The comments they made.
The way they underestimated me.
None of it felt random anymore.
My phone rang.
Preston.
I almost didn't answer.
Then I remembered something.
He was not the enemy.
Not yet.
I accepted the call.
"What do you want?"
His voice was quiet.
"I found another file."
I closed my eyes.
"Where?"
"My father's office."
"Why were you there?"
"Because after our conversation, I started looking."
I almost laughed.
Of course he started looking now.
After losing control.
After realizing the woman he abandoned knew more than he did.
"What did you find?"
A pause.
Then:
"A photo."
"What kind of photo?"
"Your father."
I went silent.
"My father?"
"Yes."
"With who?"
His answer came slowly.
"With my father."
I looked at my mother.
Her expression changed.
She heard.
"That can't be possible."
Preston continued.
"There is something else."
"What?"
"He wasn't just meeting your father."
My grip tightened around the phone.
"Then what was he doing?"
Another pause.
Then Preston said:
"He was helping him disappear."
The room became silent.
I couldn't hear anything except my own breathing.
"My father disappeared?"
"Lena..."
"Answer me."
"I don't know."
That answer wasn't enough.
Nothing was enough anymore.
My whole life had been built on missing pieces.
Every person I trusted seemed to hold a piece of the truth.
Everyone except me.
"Send me the photo."
"I already did."
I looked down.
A new message appeared.
Attached image.
I opened it.
The photograph loaded slowly.
Two men stood outside a building.
My father.
Thomas Hale.
Both looking directly at the camera.
But behind them was something else.
A sign.
A location.
A military facility.
The same facility where I was standing.
My blood went cold.
"Preston."
"Yes?"
"Where did you find this?"
His voice changed.
Like he was afraid of the answer.
"Inside a locked drawer."
"What else was inside?"
Silence.
Then:
"Lena..."
"What?"
"I found a letter."
My heart stopped.
"From who?"
A long pause.
Then he whispered:
"From your father."
I looked at my mother.
She immediately stood.
"No."
Her voice was barely audible.
"That letter was supposed to be gone."
I turned toward her.
"What letter?"
She didn't answer.
Because the answer was already clear.
She knew.
She had always known.
"Mom."
Her face changed.
The fear I saw was not the fear of someone remembering the past.
It was the fear of someone realizing the past had returned.
The lights flickered again.
The secure system started making a warning sound.
Someone was trying to access the facility.
Captain Reyes' voice suddenly came through my emergency line.
"Colonel Hartwell."
I grabbed the receiver.
"What happened?"
His breathing was fast.
"Someone entered the building."
"Who?"
"We don't know."
I looked toward the door.
The hallway outside my office was empty.
Too empty.
"Lock the floor."
"I tried."
"Why didn't it work?"
Silence.
Then Reyes said:
"Because whoever entered already had clearance."
My mother stepped backward.
Her face lost all color.
"Lena..."
I looked at her.
"Who has access?"
She didn't answer.
Then the office door handle slowly moved.
Once.
Twice.
Someone was standing outside.
Someone who shouldn't have been there.
My mother whispered a name I hadn't heard in fourteen years.
"The person who erased your identity..."
May you like
The door began to open.
"...is the person who created it."
