Chapter 4 - The Betrayal Inside My Own Family
The box was sitting on the floor.
My father's name was written across the top.
Three words.
Adrian Voss.
My hands tightened.
Because I knew that handwriting.
I had seen it on contracts.
On birthday cards.
On the last note he ever left me.
My father.
The man I spent years trying to understand.
The man who taught me that weakness was a luxury we couldn't afford.
The man who died while leaving behind more questions than answers.
He had prepared something for me.
And he had trusted people I never knew existed to deliver it.
The apartment became silent.
Nobody moved.
Not Elena.
Not Marcus.
Not Beatrice.
They were all watching me.
Waiting.
Like they already knew what was inside.
"Open it," I said.
Marcus shook his head.
"Not here."
My eyes moved toward him.
"Why?"
"Because whoever brought it knows you're here."
I looked toward the door.
The same door where someone had just entered.
The same door that should have been guarded.
My instincts immediately took over.
I moved toward the window.
The streets below were empty.
Too empty.
No footsteps.
No voices.
Nothing.
But I knew better.
The most dangerous moments were always the quiet ones.
I turned back.
"Who brought the box?"
Nobody answered.
That made my anger rise.
"I asked a question."
Marcus looked at Elena.
She nodded slightly.
Then Marcus spoke.
"The person who delivered it was one of your father's oldest allies."
"Name."
A pause.
"Daniel Cross."
The name sounded familiar.
Not because I knew him.
Because my father had mentioned it once.
Only once.
A name followed by a warning.
Never trust the man who knows where the bodies are buried.
I was young when I heard that.
I thought it was just another lesson from my father.
Now I wasn't so sure.
"Where is Daniel now?"
Marcus looked toward the door.
"He left before you arrived."
I stared at him.
"Convenient."
"He knew this day would come."
"What day?"
Marcus looked at the box.
"The day you found out the truth."
I hated how everyone around me spoke like they were reading a script I had never been given.
Every answer created another question.
Every secret opened another door.
I walked back to the table.
The key marked 317 was still there.
I picked it up.
It felt heavier than it should.
Like it wasn't metal.
Like it carried every lie my family had buried.
"Open the box."
Marcus hesitated.
Then he stepped forward.
Slowly.
He removed the old lock.
Inside was a collection of things.
Photographs.
A small recording device.
A folder.
And an envelope.
My name was written on it.
Not Adrian.
Not son.
Just my full name.
ADRIAN VOSS.
My breathing slowed.
Because my father never wrote my full name unless something was serious.
I opened the envelope.
Inside was one page.
A letter.
My father's handwriting.
My son,
If you are reading this, then I failed to keep you away from the truth.
I stopped.
The room disappeared.
For a moment, I was no longer the leader of an organization.
I was just a son reading words from a father who was gone.
I continued.
I spent my life building walls around you.
I thought those walls would protect you.
I was wrong.
The people closest to us were never outside the walls.
They were already inside.
My eyes moved to the next line.
Trust your mother.
Trust Marcus.
But never trust the person who tells you they protected you.
Because sometimes protection is just another word for control.
I lowered the letter.
My eyes moved toward Elena.
She looked away.
That hurt more than I expected.
Because part of me still wanted her to explain.
Part of me still wanted to believe she had a reason.
"Who controlled you?"
Nobody answered.
I looked at Marcus.
"Who?"
His face changed.
Not fear.
Regret.
"Victor Hale."
The name again.
The man in the photograph.
The man connected to everything.
I grabbed the folder from the box.
Inside were financial records.
Property documents.
Names.
Dates.
Then I saw something that made me stop.
A company name.
One I recognized.
A company currently connected to my empire.
A company I thought belonged to me.
But the documents showed something different.
The original owner wasn't my father.
It wasn't me.
It was Victor Hale.
"What is this?"
Marcus said nothing.
I looked at him.
"What is this?"
"Your father discovered Victor had been moving assets for years."
"From us?"
Marcus shook his head.
"No."
That answer confused me.
"Then who?"
He looked at Elena.
"From everyone."
I stared at the papers.
Victor wasn't stealing money.
He was building something.
Something larger.
Something hidden.
"Why would my father allow this?"
"He didn't."
Marcus's voice became lower.
"He tried to stop him."
"And?"
Marcus looked at me.
"And that's when your mother disappeared."
The room felt colder.
I looked at Elena.
"You knew."
She nodded slowly.
"I knew your father was investigating Victor."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"I was trying to keep you alive."
I laughed bitterly.
"Everyone keeps saying that."
I walked away from the table.
"You all decided what I could handle."
Elena stepped closer.
"Adrian."
I turned.
Her eyes were filled with tears.
"I watched your father lose everything trying to protect you."
My expression changed.
Because despite everything...
I believed her.
That was the worst part.
I believed her.
"Then tell me the truth."
She stayed silent.
"All of it."
The apartment remained quiet.
Then she finally spoke.
"Your father didn't choose Victor because he trusted him."
I waited.
"He chose him because Victor was the only person powerful enough to fight the people behind him."
I frowned.
"The people behind him?"
Elena nodded.
"Victor wasn't the beginning."
My stomach tightened.
"He was only the middle."
Before I could ask another question, my phone buzzed.
A new message.
This time from Lorenzo.
I opened it.
BOSS.
I FOUND SOMETHING.
I replied immediately.
WHAT?
The response came.
A photo.
I opened it.
My blood went cold.
It was a picture taken inside my mansion.
My private study.
The room where my father's records were kept.
The room only a few people could enter.
In the picture, someone was standing beside my father's old desk.
Someone I recognized.
Someone who should have been protecting me.
Under the photo was one sentence.
YOUR ENEMY HAS BEEN SITTING BESIDE YOU FOR YEARS.
I looked up.
Everyone in the apartment was watching my face.
Marcus whispered:
"He found you."
I stared at the message.
Then another notification appeared.
A name.
The sender.
The person who had taken the photo from inside my mansion.
The person who knew every secret I had been searching for.
The person I trusted most.
The message opened.
May you like
And it began with one word:
"Adrian..."
