Chapter 5 - The Voice From the Past
The phone kept ringing.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
The name on Declan's screen seemed impossible.
Like seeing a ghost appear in front of you.
Because I knew that name.
I had seen it written on old documents.
I had heard my mother whisper it when she thought I was asleep.
I had watched my family avoid saying it for twelve years.
The caller was:
Thomas Bennett.
My father.
My fingers went numb.
"No."
The word left my mouth before I realized I had spoken.
Declan looked at me.
His face was unreadable.
But his hand holding the phone was shaking slightly.
And that was the moment I understood something.
Declan Hayes was not afraid of enemies.
He was not afraid of threats.
He was not afraid of death.
But he was afraid of this phone call.
"Answer it."
My voice was barely above a whisper.
Declan didn't move.
"Declan."
His eyes stayed on the screen.
"Answer the phone."
Finally, he pressed the button.
For several seconds, there was only silence.
Then a voice came through.
A voice I had spent twelve years trying to forget.
"Hello, Declan."
My knees almost gave out.
Because it was him.
Older.
Different.
But him.
My father.
I covered my mouth.
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't speak.
I had imagined this moment thousands of times.
I imagined him walking through the front door.
I imagined him explaining everything.
I imagined being angry.
I imagined forgiving him.
But I never imagined hearing his voice through my husband's phone.
"Thomas."
Declan's voice was low.
Controlled.
But I heard the emotion underneath.
"You shouldn't have called this number."
My father laughed softly.
A tired laugh.
"I didn't have many choices left."
I stepped closer.
"Father?"
The line went silent.
A long silence.
Then:
"Clara?"
My heart broke.
Not because he sounded happy.
Because he sounded like a man who had been waiting years to hear my voice.
"Is that you?"
I couldn't answer.
Tears filled my eyes.
Declan looked at me.
And for once, he didn't try to stop me.
"Clara, listen to me."
My father's voice became urgent.
"You cannot stay there."
I froze.
"What?"
"Leave Declan."
The words hit harder than anything else that night.
I looked at my husband.
Declan's expression changed.
Not anger.
Pain.
Like he had expected this.
"Why?"
My voice cracked.
"Why should I leave him?"
My father was silent.
Then he said:
"Because I don't know if he can protect you anymore."
Declan closed his eyes.
Like those words hurt him.
I stared at him.
"What does that mean?"
My father didn't answer immediately.
And somehow, that silence terrified me.
"Clara, there are things you don't know about the Hayes family."
I looked at Declan.
"I already know that."
"No."
My father's voice became sharper.
"You don't."
The gallery around me felt unreal.
The lights.
The people.
The music.
Everything felt like a scene happening to someone else.
Because my dead father was on the phone.
My husband was standing beside me.
And both men were connected by secrets I had never been allowed to see.
"What happened to you?"
I finally asked.
The question I had carried for twelve years.
The question that had followed me into every room.
Every relationship.
Every nightmare.
My father's breathing changed.
"Clara..."
"Tell me."
"I was close to exposing them."
"Who?"
Silence.
Then:
"The people who control everything."
I looked at Declan.
His expression hardened.
My father continued.
"Your husband's family was involved."
The words felt like a knife.
I looked at Declan.
He didn't deny it.
That hurt.
More than if he had lied.
"Declan?"
He looked at me.
"I was going to tell you."
"When?"
He had no answer.
My father spoke again.
"Clara, you need to understand something."
I listened.
"Declan didn't marry you because of love."
My chest tightened.
Even though part of me expected it.
"He married you because I asked him to."
The words landed like a punch.
I looked away.
Because suddenly every memory felt different.
Our wedding.
Our first night.
Every cold morning.
Every empty conversation.
Maybe I had been right all along.
Maybe I was never a wife.
Maybe I was just a promise.
Then my father said something that made me stop.
"But that's not why he stayed."
I looked back.
"What?"
The line went quiet.
"Your father?"
"Clara..."
His voice became softer.
"I need you to listen carefully."
I waited.
"Declan was supposed to protect you until I came back."
A pause.
"But when he found out what they planned to do to you..."
Another pause.
"He changed."
I looked at Declan.
He was staring at the floor.
Like he didn't want me to hear this.
"He could have walked away."
My father continued.
"He could have broken the agreement."
"But he didn't."
"Why?"
My father answered quietly.
"Because he loved you."
The words hurt.
Because they were the words I had wanted to hear from Declan himself.
Not from my father.
Not from a phone.
Not after eighteen months of feeling alone.
I looked at Declan.
"Is that true?"
He didn't answer.
And somehow, that was enough.
My father sighed.
"Clara, there is something else."
The tone changed.
More serious.
More afraid.
"What?"
"Someone inside the Hayes family betrayed me."
Declan immediately looked up.
"What did you say?"
My father continued.
"I trusted the wrong person."
"Who?"
Another silence.
Then:
"The person closest to Declan."
Declan's face changed.
"No."
The word came out quietly.
Like he already knew.
"Who?" I asked.
My father didn't answer.
The call suddenly became filled with static.
"Father?"
The sound broke apart.
"Clara, you need to get out before—"
The call cut.
I stared at the phone.
"Call him back."
Declan grabbed his own phone.
Nothing.
No signal.
The screen went black.
"That wasn't possible."
I looked at him.
"What wasn't?"
"That number."
"What about it?"
Declan's face had lost all color.
"That number belonged to Thomas twelve years ago."
I felt a chill.
"So?"
"He died with it."
The silence that followed felt unbearable.
My phone suddenly vibrated.
A new message appeared.
Unknown number.
One sentence.
You finally know he is alive. Now ask Declan why he helped bury the truth.
I looked at Declan.
His face changed when he saw the message.
"Who sent that?"
I turned the phone toward him.
He read it.
Then immediately looked toward the gallery entrance.
"What?"
He didn't answer.
Because someone had entered the room.
Someone everyone moved away from.
Someone Declan recognized instantly.
Someone who should not have been there.
The man removed his coat.
Looked directly at us.
And said Declan's name.
"After twelve years..."
May you like
He smiled.
"I think it's time Clara finally met the man who started all of this."
