Chapter 11 - The Brother Who Was Never Saved
The photograph was in the stranger's hand.
A picture of Ethan.
Standing beside Michael.
On the night my father supposedly died.
I stared at it.
My mind refused to accept what my eyes were seeing.
Ethan.
Michael.
Together.
At the accident scene.
"What is this?"
My voice sounded different.
Empty.
The stranger smiled.
"That is the question you should have asked twelve years ago."
Ethan stepped forward.
"Don't listen to him."
The stranger looked at Ethan.
"You still protect him?"
Ethan's face changed.
A flash of anger.
Then pain.
The stranger turned back to me.
"Your brother has always been good at hiding things."
I looked at Ethan.
"Tell me."
He stayed silent.
That silence hurt.
Because I had spent my entire life surrounded by people who chose silence.
Michael.
My father.
Emily.
Now Ethan.
"Tell me the truth."
Ethan looked down.
"I wasn't with Michael that night."
The stranger laughed.
A quiet laugh.
"Of course you weren't."
He held up the photograph.
"Because this was taken after they found him."
I frowned.
"Found who?"
Nobody answered.
The stranger looked at Ethan.
"Tell him."
Ethan clenched his fists.
"Daniel..."
"Tell me."
His eyes met mine.
"The person in that picture isn't me."
I froze.
"What?"
He looked at the photograph.
"Someone wanted you to think it was me."
The stranger's smile disappeared.
"He's lying."
Ethan looked at him.
"You know I'm not."
I looked between them.
Everything was becoming another maze.
Another story with missing pieces.
"Who is in the picture?"
Ethan looked at me.
Then whispered:
"My replacement."
The word made no sense.
"What does that mean?"
Before Ethan answered, headlights appeared behind the black vehicle.
Another car.
Everyone turned.
The stranger's expression changed.
Fear.
Real fear.
"You're out of time."
He grabbed the folder.
Ethan moved immediately.
But the stranger pulled something from his pocket.
Not a weapon.
A small device.
He pressed a button.
The black vehicle's doors unlocked.
Two men stepped out.
"Daniel."
Ethan grabbed my arm.
"We need to leave."
I pulled away.
"No."
I looked at him.
"I want the truth."
He stared at me.
"You think you want it."
The stranger walked backward.
"You'll understand soon."
I looked at him.
"Who are you?"
For the first time, his confidence disappeared.
"My name is Alexander Reed."
My heart stopped.
The name.
The same name from the videos.
The same name my father feared.
The same name connected to everything.
"You were supposed to be dead."
Alexander smiled.
"So was your father."
Then he walked toward the car.
Ethan moved.
"Stop him."
But it was too late.
The vehicle accelerated away.
Leaving us standing on the road.
I looked at Ethan.
"Who is Alexander Reed?"
Ethan didn't answer.
Instead, he looked at the photograph still in my hand.
Then whispered:
"He wasn't the person who destroyed our family."
My stomach tightened.
"Then who was?"
Ethan looked toward the hospital.
Toward the city.
Toward the place where Emily was waiting.
"The person who did..."
He stopped.
My phone rang.
Michael.
I stared at the name.
Ethan looked at it.
"Don't answer."
I ignored him.
I picked up.
"Michael."
There was silence.
Then his voice.
"Daniel, are you safe?"
The question immediately bothered me.
Not "where are you?"
Not "what happened?"
Safe.
Like he already knew something had happened.
"Who is Ethan?"
Silence.
Long silence.
Then Michael sighed.
"You met him."
I looked at Ethan.
"You knew he was alive."
"Yes."
The answer was immediate.
No denial.
No excuse.
My chest tightened.
"Why?"
Michael's voice cracked.
"Because I failed him."
I didn't expect that.
"Explain."
"Not over the phone."
I almost laughed.
Again.
"Of course."
Michael continued.
"Daniel, listen to me carefully."
His voice became serious.
"The person you met is not the only person pretending to be someone else."
I looked at Ethan.
"What does that mean?"
Michael didn't answer.
Instead, he said:
"Go back to the hospital."
My heart tightened.
"Why?"
"Because Emily knows."
I froze.
"Knows what?"
Michael whispered:
"She knows who Ethan really is."
The call ended.
I looked at Ethan.
He looked away.
"You knew."
I said it quietly.
He didn't deny it.
"You knew Emily knew."
Ethan nodded.
"She found out before you did."
I felt betrayed.
Again.
"How?"
Ethan looked at me.
"Because she wasn't investigating your father."
I waited.
"She was investigating me."
The road became silent.
"What?"
Ethan took a deep breath.
"Emily found records of my existence."
I shook my head.
"Why would she search for you?"
His answer came softly.
"Because she knew your family had another child."
My heart raced.
"How?"
Ethan looked at me.
"Because your mother told her."
I stopped.
"My mother?"
He nodded.
"Your mother found Emily before she disappeared."
The pieces started connecting.
Emily.
The pregnancy.
The divorce.
The secrets.
Everything.
"Why didn't she tell me?"
Ethan looked away.
"Because she was trying to keep you alive."
I closed my eyes.
Another person protecting me.
Another lie.
I started walking toward my car.
"I need to talk to Emily."
Ethan followed.
"You need to know something first."
I stopped.
"What?"
His expression became serious.
"The baby."
I turned.
"What about the baby?"
Ethan looked at me.
"The person hunting your family doesn't want your child."
My heart dropped.
"Then what do they want?"
He answered:
"They want the bloodline."
I didn't understand.
Then he said the sentence that made everything worse.
"Because your child is not the first Carter baby they tried to erase."
I felt cold.
"What?"
Ethan looked at me.
"There was another baby."
I waited.
"Years ago."
My voice shook.
"Who?"
Ethan opened his mouth.
But before he could answer...
My phone vibrated.
A message.
From Emily.
I opened it.
Only four words.
"Don't trust your brother."
I looked at Ethan.
Then another message arrived.
This time with a picture.
A hospital room.
Emily lying unconscious.
And beside her bed...
Michael.
Holding a newborn baby.
The date on the photo was twelve years ago.
My hands started shaking.
Because beneath the picture was a name.
May you like
The name of the baby Michael was holding...
And it wasn't Daniel.
