Chapter 5 - The Truth Hidden Underneath
The office door locked behind us.
Richard stood on the other side.
My father's face changed instantly.
Not fear.
Recognition.
"He knows," my father whispered.
My mother grabbed my hand.
And I realized the man who had controlled our lives for twenty years was finally standing on the other side of a door he could not open.
For a few seconds, nobody moved.
The only sound was Richard's fist hitting the door.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
"Open this door."
His voice was calm.
That scared me more than if he had been screaming.
Richard had never needed to raise his voice.
That was what made him dangerous.
He knew exactly how to make people afraid.
I looked at my father.
"You know him better than anyone."
My father nodded slowly.
"Yes."
"Then tell me what he will do."
My father's eyes moved toward the locked door.
"He will try to convince you that nothing happened."
Another knock.
Harder.
"Rebecca."
Richard's voice came through the wood.
"You don't know what they are telling you."
I froze.
Because even now...
Even after everything...
He was doing the same thing.
Making me question myself.
My father stepped closer.
"Don't listen."
I looked at him.
"You spent twenty years letting me believe you abandoned me."
The words hurt him.
I saw it.
But I needed him to hear it.
"I don't know who to trust."
My father nodded.
"That's fair."
The honesty surprised me.
He didn't defend himself.
Didn't make excuses.
He just accepted it.
"I should have found another way."
The pounding stopped.
Richard spoke again.
"Rebecca, think carefully."
His voice softened.
"You just met this man."
A pause.
"He disappeared for twenty years."
Another pause.
"And now he comes back with a story that makes him the hero?"
I looked at the door.
Richard continued.
"Ask yourself why he waited until tonight."
My father's jaw tightened.
Because that question hurt.
Because part of me had wondered the same thing.
Why now?
Why after twenty years?
Why when I finally returned?
I turned toward my father.
"Why?"
He looked at me.
"Because I thought Richard had destroyed the last piece of evidence."
"What evidence?"
"The one thing he could never explain."
My father walked toward the desk.
He opened another drawer.
Inside was an old photograph.
He handed it to me.
It showed Richard standing outside a building.
A courthouse.
Next to him was another man.
A man I didn't recognize.
"Who is that?"
My father looked at the picture.
"His business partner."
"What happened to him?"
My father was silent.
Then he answered.
"He disappeared too."
A cold feeling moved through me.
I looked at my mother.
She looked down.
"You knew."
She whispered:
"I suspected."
I stepped back.
"Everyone knew something."
My voice cracked.
"And I was the only person who knew nothing."
My mother reached for me.
I pulled away.
Not because I hated her.
Because I was hurt.
"You let me hate you."
Tears filled her eyes.
"I know."
"Do you know what that did to me?"
"I know."
"No."
My voice became louder.
"You don't."
The room went silent.
My mother looked broken.
But I couldn't stop.
"For twenty years, I thought my own mother chose him over me."
She covered her mouth.
"I thought you didn't care."
"I cared every single day."
"Then why?"
Her answer came quietly.
"Because I was trying to keep you alive."
The words stopped me.
My father looked at her.
"Evelyn..."
She shook her head.
"No more secrets."
She wiped her tears.
"Rebecca deserves the truth."
Outside the door, Richard laughed.
A quiet, cold laugh.
"You really think she wants the truth?"
Nobody answered.
Richard continued.
"Your mother has always been good at playing the victim."
My fists tightened.
My father moved toward the door.
"Don't."
I stopped him.
"No."
I looked at the door.
"I need to hear him."
My father looked worried.
"Rebecca."
"I spent twenty years hearing his version."
I stepped closer.
"Now he can hear mine."
I opened the small communication slot in the office door.
Richard's face appeared through the opening.
Older.
Angrier.
But still the same man.
The same eyes.
The same expression.
"Rebecca."
I stared at him.
"Why were you watching this room?"
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
"You don't understand what you're seeing."
"Answer me."
He sighed.
"You always were stubborn."
"And you always avoided questions."
A silence passed.
Then Richard smiled.
"You think your father is going to save you?"
I didn't answer.
"He couldn't save himself."
My father's face tightened.
Richard looked past me.
At him.
"You should have stayed gone."
My father stepped forward.
"You should have gone to prison."
Richard's smile disappeared.
For the first time, they weren't pretending.
They weren't hiding.
They hated each other.
"You don't know what she has done," Richard said.
My mother froze.
I turned.
"What does that mean?"
Richard looked at her.
"Tell her."
My mother looked terrified.
"Tell her what?"
Richard laughed.
"Tell her who really signed the documents."
My stomach dropped.
"What documents?"
Nobody spoke.
I looked at my mother.
Then my father.
Then Richard.
"What documents?"
My mother started crying.
"I didn't want you to find out this way."
My heart sank.
"Find out what?"
She walked toward the desk.
Slowly.
Like she had carried this weight for years.
She opened a folder.
Inside were legal documents.
Property records.
Bank statements.
I looked at the first page.
My name was there.
Again.
Rebecca Carter.
"What is this?"
My father answered.
"Your inheritance."
I stared at him.
"I don't have an inheritance."
Richard laughed from the hallway.
"That's what she told you."
I turned.
"What are you talking about?"
Richard's face hardened.
"Your grandmother left you the house."
The room went silent.
I looked around.
The house.
The one I thought belonged to Richard.
The one where I grew up.
The one where he controlled everything.
"This house?"
My mother nodded.
"Your grandmother put it in your name before she died."
I felt dizzy.
"Then why did Richard act like he owned it?"
My father's expression darkened.
"Because he forged documents."
My eyes widened.
"He stole it."
Richard's voice came through the door.
"Careful."
A warning.
I ignored it.
"You stole my house."
Silence.
Then Richard spoke.
"You have no idea what you're accusing me of."
My father looked at the lockbox.
"Open it."
I looked at him.
"What?"
"The evidence."
He pointed.
"Everything you need is inside."
I picked up the box.
My hands shook.
The key was still missing.
My mother looked toward the desk.
Then suddenly froze.
"What?"
She didn't answer.
She walked toward an old painting hanging on the wall.
Behind it was a small compartment.
My heart started racing.
Another hidden place.
Another secret.
She reached inside.
And pulled out a small silver key.
My father closed his eyes.
"You kept it."
My mother whispered:
"I couldn't destroy the last thing he left me."
I inserted the key.
The lock clicked.
Everyone became silent.
I lifted the lid.
Inside was a stack of documents.
A flash drive.
And one final envelope.
My name was written on it.
But this time...
The handwriting wasn't my father's.
It was Richard's.
I slowly opened it.
Inside was a single page.
One sentence.
My blood turned cold.
Rebecca, if you are reading this, it means your mother finally told you what she did.
I looked up.
My mother stepped backward.
"Rebecca..."
The office lights suddenly flickered.
The computer monitor on the desk turned on by itself.
A video file appeared.
Created tonight.
The screen showed a live recording.
Of my mother.
Of my father.
Of me.
And below the video was one name.
May you like
The person who had been watching us.
Richard Hayes.
