Chapter 4 - The Secret Buried Beneath My Name
The message stayed on the phone screen.
"Gianna, ask Brett why your father died."
I stared at those words until they stopped looking like letters.
Until they became something else.
A warning.
A threat.
A piece of a puzzle I never knew existed.
My father had been dead for fifteen years.
A car accident.
That was what everyone told me.
That was what I believed.
A rainy highway.
A broken guardrail.
A life that ended before I was old enough to understand what losing someone truly meant.
But now, standing inside Brett Ashford’s damaged office with shattered glass covering the floor, I realized something terrifying.
Someone knew my past.
Someone knew something I didn’t.
And they wanted Brett to know that they knew.
Brett took the phone from his hand and looked at the screen again.
His expression was impossible to read.
That frightened me.
Because I had learned something about Brett Ashford.
When he was angry, he showed it.
When he was threatened, he prepared.
But when he was afraid?
He became silent.
And right now, he was completely silent.
"Tell me."
My voice sounded smaller than I wanted.
Brett looked at me.
"Gianna."
"No."
I shook my head.
"You don't get to do that."
His eyebrows tightened.
"Do what?"
"Say my name like that and expect me not to ask questions."
Elena stood near the broken window, watching both of us.
She looked like she already knew what was coming.
That made my chest tighten.
"What does my father have to do with this?"
Brett didn't answer.
That was the answer.
My stomach dropped.
"You knew."
His eyes moved away.
"Not everything."
"But you knew something."
"Gianna."
"How long?"
The silence became unbearable.
"How long have you known my father was connected to this?"
Brett walked toward the desk and placed the phone down.
His hands were calm.
Too calm.
"I found out three years ago."
The room spun slightly.
"Three years?"
I laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I didn't know what else to do.
"You knew for three years?"
"I was trying to protect you."
"By lying to me?"
His jaw tightened.
"I was trying to keep you alive."
Those words stopped me.
Because Brett didn't say them dramatically.
He said them like a fact.
Like he had been carrying that fear alone for years.
Elena stepped forward.
"Gianna, you need to understand something."
I looked at her.
"Do I?"
She paused.
Because she knew she deserved that.
"My brother has spent years trying to find the people responsible for what happened."
"What happened?"
She looked at Brett.
Then back at me.
"Your father's death."
The room went quiet.
I felt something inside me break.
Not because I was surprised.
Because part of me had always wondered.
My father was careful.
He was organized.
He checked everything twice.
The idea that he would simply lose control of a car never made sense.
But I buried that thought.
Because sometimes people accept painful explanations because the truth is harder.
"What did my father know?"
Brett walked to the folder.
He opened another section.
Inside were photographs.
Documents.
Records.
Things I had never seen.
He placed one photograph on the desk.
It showed my father standing beside another man.
A younger Brett.
And another person.
My father.
Brett.
And Marcus Vale.
Together.
I stared at the picture.
"Why was my father with Marcus Vale?"
Brett looked at the photograph.
"Because they were partners."
My eyes widened.
"What?"
"Before Marcus became my enemy, he was someone my father trusted."
The words felt impossible.
"My father worked with you?"
"With my family."
Brett corrected quietly.
"My father and yours built something together."
I looked at him.
"Then why didn't I know?"
"Because when everything fell apart, someone erased the evidence."
I looked through the documents.
There were company records.
Financial transfers.
Names.
Dates.
And then I saw it.
A signature.
My father's signature.
Next to a transfer authorization.
My hands started shaking.
"That's impossible."
Brett noticed.
"What?"
"My father would never do this."
I pointed at the document.
"He would never steal money."
"I know."
The certainty in his voice surprised me.
"You believe me?"
"I always believed your father."
That hurt.
Because suddenly I realized Brett had known my father better than I knew.
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
His expression changed.
"Because your father asked me not to."
I froze.
"What?"
Brett looked at me.
"The last time I saw him alive, he gave me something."
He opened the drawer.
From inside, he removed a small envelope.
Old.
Damaged.
My name was written across the front.
My breath stopped.
"That has my name."
Brett nodded.
"He wanted me to give it to you only if the people who caused his death came back."
I stared at the envelope.
"Why didn't you give it to me before?"
"Because they never came back."
I looked at him.
"Until now."
Brett didn't respond.
He didn't need to.
The answer was obvious.
The moment Elena appeared.
The moment the photo appeared.
The moment someone sent that message.
Everything had started again.
My fingers reached toward the envelope.
But Brett stopped me.
"Wait."
I looked up.
"What?"
His eyes were serious.
"Before you open it, you need to know something."
"What?"
"My father was not the only person who disappeared that night."
I frowned.
"What are you talking about?"
Brett looked at Elena.
She looked away.
And suddenly I understood.
There was another secret.
Another person.
"Who else?"
Brett hesitated.
Then said:
"Your mother."
My entire body went still.
"My mother died when I was six."
Brett shook his head slowly.
"No."
The word felt like a gunshot.
"No?"
"Your mother disappeared."
I couldn't breathe.
"That's not true."
"I wish it was."
The memories came rushing back.
My mother's perfume.
Her voice.
The last morning I saw her.
Everyone told me she left.
Everyone told me she abandoned us.
But nobody ever explained why.
Nobody ever explained where she went.
"Why would everyone lie?"
Elena answered quietly.
"Because someone needed you to believe you were alone."
I looked at both of them.
The two people who had been hiding pieces of my life.
Brett.
Elena.
And suddenly I didn't know who to trust.
The office felt smaller.
The walls felt closer.
The world I knew was collapsing.
My phone vibrated again.
I flinched.
Another message.
Unknown number.
This time, there was no text.
Only a video.
Brett immediately moved closer.
"Don't open it."
But I already knew.
The person sending these messages wanted me to see.
I pressed play.
The screen showed a dark room.
A chair.
A woman sitting in it.
Older.
Tired.
But alive.
My hands covered my mouth.
Because I knew that face.
I had spent fifteen years looking at photographs.
Fifteen years remembering someone I thought I lost.
My mother looked directly into the camera.
And whispered:
"Gianna… if you are watching this, Brett Ashford is the reason I disappeared."
The video ended.
Nobody spoke.
Brett looked like he had been hit.
Elena looked terrified.
And then the office lights turned off.
A second later, the door handle began to move.
May you like
Someone was outside.
Someone who had a key.
