Chapter 4 - The Ghost Inside The Hallway
The man standing outside the door was impossible.
I knew that before my mind could even process what my eyes were seeing.
The hallway lights flickered above him.
The emergency red glow covered his face.
Older.
Tired.
Different from the photograph.
But still unmistakably familiar.
Because I had spent my entire childhood looking at that face.
My father.
Captain Ethan Carter.
The man I was told died twelve years ago.
The man whose name had disappeared from every official record.
The man whose final mission became a closed case.
He stood in front of me.
Alive.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Not Marcus.
Not me.
Not the man in the hallway.
The admiral lowered his weapon slightly.
His lips parted.
But no words came out.
Then my father spoke.
"Marcus."
His voice was exactly how I remembered it.
Calm.
Steady.
The same voice that used to wake me up before school.
The same voice that told me everything would be okay when my mother was sick.
The same voice I thought I would never hear again.
Marcus took one step backward.
"No."
My father looked at him.
"I know what you think."
The admiral's face tightened.
"You are dead."
My father gave a small, tired smile.
"That's what the Navy wanted everyone to believe."
I couldn't breathe.
My entire life had been built around a lie.
A lie so big that I never even considered it could exist.
I had spent years grieving someone who was standing only a few feet away.
I looked at Marcus.
"You knew?"
The admiral didn't answer.
That was worse than any answer.
"You knew he was alive."
Marcus finally looked at me.
"I knew he survived."
The words hit harder.
Survived.
Not lived.
Not escaped.
Survived.
My father stepped into the office.
The door closed behind him.
For the first time in twelve years, I was standing in the same room as the man I had buried in my mind.
But instead of relief, I felt anger.
"You let me believe you were dead."
My father's expression changed.
Pain crossed his face.
"I know."
"Do you know what that did to me?"
"I know."
"No."
My voice became louder.
"You don't."
The room went silent.
Marcus looked away.
My father didn't defend himself.
That made it worse.
Because I wanted an excuse.
I wanted him to say he had no choice.
I wanted someone else to blame.
But he just stood there.
Accepting every word.
"I watched my mother lose hope."
My hands tightened.
"I watched everyone pretend you were gone."
"I know."
"I spent years looking for answers."
My father looked down.
"And I spent years trying to make sure you stayed alive."
That stopped me.
"What?"
He looked at me.
"Alex, if they knew you existed, they would have come for you."
"Who?"
Neither man answered.
I already knew the answer was complicated.
But I needed to hear it.
"Who are you afraid of?"
My father walked toward the desk.
He picked up the photograph Marcus had hidden.
The damaged photograph.
The one with the missing face.
He turned it over.
On the back were handwritten words.
A message.
My father's handwriting.
I recognized it immediately.
"Trust no one who knows the full file."
I stared at the sentence.
"What does that mean?"
My father looked at Marcus.
The admiral didn't speak.
Then my father continued.
"CV-17 was never just a protection program."
He placed the photograph down.
"It was created because someone inside the Navy was selling information."
"To who?"
"We never found out."
Marcus interrupted.
"We found pieces."
My father nodded.
"But never the person behind it."
I looked between them.
"So my father disappeared because he got close."
My father shook his head.
"Not exactly."
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
He looked at me.
"I disappeared because I found out who was helping me."
The room became quiet.
Marcus looked uncomfortable.
I noticed.
And that bothered me.
Because Marcus Vale knew something.
Something he still wasn't telling me.
"Who helped you?"
My father looked at him.
The admiral didn't move.
Then my father said:
"Marcus."
The silence after that name felt heavier than anything else.
I looked at the admiral.
"You were helping him?"
Marcus finally answered.
"Yes."
"Then why did you let everyone think he was dead?"
The admiral's eyes lowered.
"Because someone was watching."
"Who?"
Marcus looked toward the security cameras.
"Someone who had access to everything."
My father nodded.
"That was the reason we couldn't trust anyone."
A sudden alarm interrupted the room.
A security alert flashed across the computer.
Marcus turned immediately.
"What happened?"
A red warning appeared.
"Unauthorized access detected."
The admiral moved closer.
"From where?"
The system displayed the location.
His expression changed.
"The archive room."
My father became serious.
"No."
"What?" I asked.
He looked at Marcus.
"They found the original files."
The admiral grabbed the communication phone.
"No one enters that room."
Static answered.
Then a voice.
"Too late."
Everyone froze.
The voice wasn't unfamiliar.
It was calm.
Professional.
Someone who belonged inside this building.
Someone who didn't need to break in.
The speaker continued.
"Admiral Vale, you should have destroyed the archive when you had the chance."
Marcus stepped closer to the phone.
"Identify yourself."
A short pause.
Then:
"You already know who I am."
Marcus's face changed.
My father immediately moved toward him.
"Marcus?"
The admiral didn't answer.
Because he was staring at the name appearing on the security monitor.
A name attached to the person accessing the archive.
A name that should have been impossible.
My father saw it.
His expression turned from anger to disbelief.
"No."
I looked at the screen.
"What is it?"
Neither man responded.
The alarm continued.
The archive door was being opened.
Someone was inside.
Someone who knew every secret.
Someone who knew about CV-17.
Someone who knew my father survived.
Marcus finally whispered:
"The person who started all of this..."
He stopped.
The screen refreshed.
May you like
A live camera feed appeared.
And standing inside the archive room was the one person none of them expected to see.
