Chapter 3 - The Cabin That Burned With The Truth
The old family cabin was thirty miles outside the city.
Thirty miles from the mansion.
Thirty miles from the people who had spent twenty years lying to me.
And thirty miles from the last place anyone had seen my sister alive.
I drove through the darkness with Isabella’s voice still playing in my head.
"There is one person you trust who has been lying to you."
I had replayed that sentence over and over during the drive.
I tried to convince myself she meant someone else.
My uncle.
My aunt.
Someone who had a reason to hurt her.
But every time I thought about it, one name kept returning.
Adrian.
My cousin had been my closest friend since childhood.
We grew up together.
We attended the same schools.
We celebrated every family holiday together.
When my parents died, Adrian was the person who sat beside me at the funeral.
When Isabella died, he was the person who told me everything would eventually get easier.
Now I wondered.
Was he comforting me?
Or was he making sure I stopped searching?
The road became narrower as I approached the mountain.
The cabin had been abandoned for years.
After the fire, my family never rebuilt it.
They said there was no reason.
They said it held too many painful memories.
But Isabella always told me something different.
She said the cabin was the only place where our family couldn't pretend.
I remembered those words.
I remembered laughing.
I remembered telling her she watched too many crime movies.
Now I wished I had listened.
I parked near the old property.
The trees surrounded the area like a wall.
The cabin was barely recognizable.
The fire had destroyed most of it.
Only part of the foundation remained.
The wooden structure that once held our family memories was now nothing more than blackened beams and broken stone.
I stepped out of the car.
The cold air hit my face.
For a moment, I stood there.
Twenty years disappeared.
I could almost hear Isabella laughing.
I could almost see her walking through the front door carrying books and coffee.
Then reality returned.
She was gone.
And someone had made sure I never knew why.
I turned on my flashlight and walked toward the remains.
The text message had given me one instruction.
"Look where she hid from them."
I had no idea what that meant.
But Isabella always had a place.
A secret place.
When we were children, she created a hiding spot behind the fireplace.
She called it her "truth room."
I smiled for half a second.
Then the memory disappeared.
Because the fireplace was gone.
Everything was gone.
I searched through the ashes.
Nothing.
I moved broken pieces of wood.
Nothing.
Then I noticed something.
A section of the stone wall looked different.
The stones were newer.
Someone had repaired that area.
Recently.
My heart started beating faster.
I grabbed one of the loose stones.
It moved.
Behind it was a small opening.
Inside was a metal box.
I pulled it out carefully.
The box was covered in dust.
But unlike everything else around me...
It hadn't been burned.
Someone had protected it.
I opened it.
Inside were documents.
Photographs.
And a small notebook.
The first page had Isabella's handwriting.
My hands began shaking.
Michael,
If you found this, then I was right.
They tried to erase everything.
I sat down on the cold ground.
I continued reading.
I don't know who I can trust anymore.
Not the family.
Not the people around us.
Someone discovered what I found.
Someone knows I have proof.
My breathing became heavier.
Proof.
That word changed everything.
I turned the page.
There were names.
Dates.
Financial records.
Copies of documents I didn't recognize.
Then I saw one name.
Bellini Holdings.
My family's company.
I stared at the papers.
The company had always been our family's pride.
My grandfather built it.
My father expanded it.
I inherited control after his death.
But these documents suggested something else.
Money transfers.
Hidden accounts.
Payments made to people I had never heard of.
And one payment appeared repeatedly.
Every month.
For years.
The recipient name was partially covered.
But the initials were visible.
A.M.
Adrian Moretti.
No.
I dropped the papers.
My mind refused to accept it.
There had to be another explanation.
Another Adrian.
Another reason.
Anything.
I grabbed the notebook again.
The next page had a handwritten message.
Michael,
If Adrian tells you he was protecting you, don't believe him.
The world stopped.
Because Isabella had written his name.
Not a warning.
Not a suspicion.
His name.
I heard something behind me.
A branch breaking.
I immediately closed the box.
The sound came again.
Closer.
Someone was there.
I grabbed the flashlight and turned around.
Nothing.
Only trees.
Only darkness.
I waited.
Five seconds.
Ten seconds.
Then I saw movement.
A figure standing near the edge of the property.
Watching me.
"Who are you?" I shouted.
No answer.
The person turned away.
I ran after them.
The figure disappeared between the trees.
When I reached the spot, they were gone.
But something was left behind.
A phone.
An old phone.
I picked it up.
The screen was cracked.
The battery was almost dead.
Then it turned on.
One video file appeared.
Recorded twenty years ago.
October 12.
My hands tightened around the phone.
Another recording.
Another piece of that night.
I pressed play.
The video was shaky.
Dark.
But I recognized the location immediately.
The cabin.
The camera moved through the room.
Then a voice appeared.
A man's voice.
A voice I knew.
"Isabella, you don't understand what you're risking."
My blood went cold.
Because the voice belonged to someone I had trusted my entire life.
The camera moved closer.
The person behind it whispered:
"You should have never found out the truth."
Then Isabella answered.
"Adrian... if you hurt me, Michael will find out."
I stopped breathing.
The video froze.
The screen went black.
Then a new message appeared.
Not from the phone.
From my own device.
A message from an unknown number.
One sentence.
"He was never working alone."
I stared at the words.
Then another message arrived.
A photograph.
It showed my family sitting at dinner tonight.
Everyone around the table.
Everyone who had been pretending not to know.
May you like
And behind them, standing in the doorway of the mansion...
was someone who wasn't supposed to be alive.
