Chapter 9 - The Woman Behind the Voice
“Hello, Clara.”
I froze.
The voice came from somewhere behind my father.
A woman's voice.
Soft.
Familiar.
My blood turned cold.
Adrian immediately raised his weapon.
“Everyone stay still.”
Daniel stumbled backward.
My father grabbed my wrist.
“Don't move.”
The emergency lights flickered once.
Then twice.
A dim red glow returned to the basement.
And I saw her.
She stepped from behind a concrete pillar.
Long dark coat.
Perfectly styled blonde hair.
Pearls around her neck.
Margaret.
My stepmother.
I stared at her.
She smiled.
Not the nervous smile she had worn in the lounge.
Not the frightened expression from the photograph.
This was the woman I remembered from my childhood.
Calm.
Controlled.
Certain.
“You,” I whispered.
Margaret tilted her head.
“Yes.”
Adrian moved between us.
“You have five seconds to explain why you're here.”
She laughed quietly.
“You always did sound like your father.”
Adrian's eyes hardened.
“You don't know my father.”
“I knew Viktor before you were old enough to understand what his name meant.”
Adrian's grip tightened around his weapon.
My father stepped forward.
“Margaret, you weren't supposed to find this room.”
She looked at him.
“You should know better than anyone, Thomas.”
My father went pale.
“You betrayed me.”
Margaret's expression softened.
“I saved you.”
“You helped Roman.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I helped you survive Roman.”
I looked between them.
“Stop.”
Both turned toward me.
“I want the truth.”
Margaret's smile disappeared.
“You're finally old enough to hear it.”
“Then tell me.”
She glanced at Adrian.
“Not with him here.”
Adrian didn't move.
“She stays where I can see her.”
Margaret sighed.
“Of course.”
My father took my hand.
“Clara, listen to me carefully.”
I looked at him.
“Who ordered the crash?”
His face tightened.
Before he could answer, Margaret spoke.
“Your father did.”
The room went silent.
I stared at her.
“What?”
Margaret looked at Thomas.
“He ordered the crash.”
“No.”
My father shook his head.
“I never—”
“You did.”
She pointed at the photograph Adrian was holding.
“The man standing beside Clara wasn't Roman.”
Adrian looked down at the picture.
“Then who is he?”
Margaret walked closer.
“His name is Gabriel Vale.”
My father closed his eyes.
Adrian stared at him.
“You know that name.”
Thomas didn't answer.
Adrian stepped forward.
“Who is Gabriel Vale?”
My father finally looked at him.
“A financier.”
“Of what?”
“Everything.”
The word landed heavily.
“Roman's second organization,” my father continued. “The corrupt officials. The shipments. The accounts. The people who made the crash possible.”
Adrian's expression hardened.
“You said Roman was behind it.”
“He was involved.”
“But not in charge.”
Thomas shook his head.
“No.”
Margaret spoke quietly.
“Roman thought he was.”
I looked at her.
“Then who was?”
She stared at me.
“Gabriel Vale.”
I didn't know the name.
But Adrian did.
His face changed.
“Vale.”
Margaret nodded.
“The man your father trusted.”
Adrian looked at Thomas.
“My father trusted him?”
“Everyone did,” Thomas said.
“Why?”
“Because Gabriel never needed to stand in the room.”
Thomas pointed toward the walls.
“He bought the people who did.”
I looked at the photographs.
Judges.
Police officers.
Businessmen.
Officials.
Politicians.
Everyone connected.
A network built quietly around powerful people.
“And Margaret?” I asked.
She looked at me.
“I was supposed to watch you.”
“Watch me?”
“Protect you.”
“You sold me.”
Her eyes lowered.
“Yes.”
The admission was almost unbearable.
“Why?”
“Because Gabriel wanted you.”
I felt sick.
“Why me?”
Margaret took a breath.
“Because your father left you something.”
“The warehouse?”
“No.”
“The ledger?”
“No.”
“The recording?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Margaret looked at Thomas.
He nodded reluctantly.
She said:
“Your memory.”
I stared at her.
“I don't understand.”
“You were six when you saw Claire being taken.”
I remembered the lake.
The dock.
The car.
The pendant.
“But I forgot.”
“No.”
Margaret stepped closer.
“You were made to forget.”
Daniel suddenly spoke.
“I didn't know.”
Margaret looked at him.
“You knew enough.”
Daniel lowered his head.
I turned toward him.
“You drugged me.”
He didn't deny it.
“After the crash,” he said, “you were suffering from severe trauma.”
“So you erased my memory?”
“No.”
“You said you used medication.”
“To stabilize you.”
“Then why don't I remember the lake?”
Daniel's voice broke.
“Because you remembered something dangerous.”
My father stepped forward.
“Clara.”
I turned.
“What did I see?”
Thomas looked at Margaret.
Then at Adrian.
Then back at me.
“You saw Gabriel.”
My heart stopped.
“Where?”
“At the lake.”
“What was he doing?”
Thomas swallowed.
“He was arguing with Claire's mother.”
I remembered a woman.
Dark hair.
A frightened face.
A silver bracelet.
She had been shouting.
Gabriel stood in front of her.
Then a gunshot.
The woman fell.
I covered my ears.
“No.”
Adrian caught me before I fell.
“Clara.”
“I saw it.”
My voice shook.
“I saw a woman fall.”
Thomas nodded.
“You were hiding under the dock.”
“And Claire?”
“She ran.”
“Where?”
“She found you.”
I looked down at the pendant.
“She gave me this.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because her mother told her to.”
Margaret interrupted.
“Because Claire's mother knew she was going to die.”
The room went silent.
I touched the pendant.
“What did she hide inside?”
“Not information,” Thomas said.
“Then what?”
“A name.”
My heart raced.
“Whose name?”
Thomas looked at Adrian.
“Gabriel Vale's real name.”
Adrian stared.
“What?”
“Gabriel Vale isn't his real name.”
Margaret nodded.
“He created that identity twenty-four years ago.”
Adrian stepped closer.
“Who is he?”
My father opened his mouth.
A gunshot exploded somewhere above us.
Everyone ducked.
Another shot.
Then another.
Adrian's men moved toward the staircase.
“Someone's inside the house.”
Margaret's expression changed.
“They found us.”
Adrian looked at her.
“Who?”
She didn't answer.
My father grabbed my hand.
“We have to leave.”
“Not without answers.”
“You don't understand.”
“I've spent my whole life not understanding!”
My voice echoed through the basement.
“I deserve the truth.”
Thomas looked at me.
“You do.”
Then he walked toward the old desk.
He opened a hidden compartment.
Inside was a small black box.
He placed it in my hands.
“This belongs to you.”
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
A woman holding a baby.
My mother.
I had almost forgotten her face.
Beside her stood another woman.
Claire's mother.
They were smiling.
Behind them was a man.
His face had been scratched away.
I turned the photograph over.
Three words were written in my father's handwriting.
HE IS FAMILY.
My stomach dropped.
“Who?”
Thomas didn't answer.
Adrian stared at the photograph.
“That's impossible.”
“What?”
He pointed toward the scratched-out face.
“I know that watch.”
A silver watch was visible beneath the man's sleeve.
Adrian's father had owned one exactly like it.
I looked at him.
“Your father?”
“No.”
His voice became almost inaudible.
“My brother.”
I stared.
“Roman?”
Adrian nodded.
“That's Roman.”
Thomas shook his head.
“No.”
Adrian looked at him.
“What?”
“That isn't Roman.”
He pointed to the photograph.
“That man was dead before Roman disappeared.”
I felt the room spin.
“Then who is he?”
Thomas looked at Margaret.
Margaret looked at Daniel.
Daniel looked at the floor.
Nobody answered.
Then the basement speakers crackled.
A man's voice filled the room.
Calm.
Almost amused.
“You're getting close, Clara.”
My father froze.
Adrian raised his weapon toward the ceiling.
“Gabriel.”
The voice laughed.
“Still using that name?”
My blood ran cold.
Thomas stepped toward the speaker.
“You promised you'd leave her alone.”
“I promised nothing.”
“You have me.”
“I don't want you.”
A pause.
“I want what you hid inside her.”
My hand moved instinctively to my head.
Adrian looked at me.
“Don't listen.”
The voice continued.
“Clara, your father lied about the lake.”
I stared at the speaker.
“He told you Claire gave you the pendant.”
A pause.
“She didn't.”
My breathing stopped.
“What?”
Gabriel laughed softly.
“Claire didn't give you anything.”
Thomas shouted:
“Don't listen to him!”
The voice became quieter.
“Ask your father what happened after Claire disappeared.”
I looked at Thomas.
He didn't meet my eyes.
“Dad?”
Silence.
“What happened?”
He remained still.
“Dad.”
Finally, he whispered:
“Claire didn't disappear.”
My heart stopped.
“She died.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“No.”
Thomas looked devastated.
“She died that night.”
“Then who was in the photograph?”
“Someone pretending to be her.”
I couldn't breathe.
Adrian stepped toward my father.
“What are you saying?”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“The girl Clara grew up remembering as Claire was never Claire.”
My fingers tightened around the photograph.
The voice returned through the speakers.
“Now you understand.”
I stared at my father.
“Then who was the girl?”
Thomas looked at me.
May you like
And his answer shattered the last piece of my childhood.
“She was your sister.”
