Chapter 9 - The Truth Behind the Falling Knife
The phone slipped from Adrian’s hand.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Because we all heard the same thing.
The voice.
The accusation.
The impossible memory.
"Mara, ask your mother why she was holding the knife when your father fell."
I looked at Elena.
She looked at me.
And for a moment, I didn't see my mother.
I saw a stranger.
A stranger holding a secret.
"No."
My voice was quiet.
But everyone heard it.
"No, that's not true."
Elena's face broke.
"Mara."
"Don't."
I stepped away.
"Don't tell me you were protecting me."
She stopped.
Because she knew.
I was tired of that answer.
Everyone who hurt me had used the same words.
Protection.
Safety.
A reason.
But nobody ever asked if I wanted to be protected from the truth.
Adrian picked up the phone.
"Who are you?"
The voice on the other end laughed softly.
"You sound exactly like your father."
Adrian's grip tightened.
"Answer me."
A pause.
Then:
"You want to know what happened that night?"
Nobody moved.
The voice continued.
"Ask Elena what she was doing in Richard's office."
Adrian looked at Elena.
She looked down.
That was enough.
Enough to make the room believe something.
But I didn't want to believe it.
Because if Elena was the person who hurt my father...
Then my entire life was built on a lie.
"Mom."
She looked at me.
The word came out naturally.
I hated that.
Because even after everything...
Some part of me still wanted her to be innocent.
"Tell me."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"I didn't kill him."
The answer came too quickly.
Too desperately.
I swallowed.
"Then what happened?"
She looked at the floor.
"Your father was going to expose someone."
"Who?"
She didn't answer.
Adrian stepped forward.
"Stop protecting them."
Elena looked at him.
"I was protecting Mara."
"From what?"
"From the truth."
I almost laughed.
"Everyone says that."
I looked around the room.
"Everyone keeps telling me the truth will hurt me."
My voice shook.
"But nobody understands that the lies already did."
Nobody responded.
Because there was nothing to say.
Thomas walked toward the desk.
"The phone call wasn't random."
Adrian looked at him.
"What do you mean?"
"Someone wanted us to hear that."
He pointed at the phone.
"Someone wanted Mara to doubt Elena."
I looked at him.
"Are you saying the caller lied?"
Thomas didn't answer.
That was not comforting.
"Maybe."
He paused.
"Maybe not."
I hated how everyone around me lived in a world where every answer had another question behind it.
Adrian looked at Elena.
"Tell us what happened that night."
She closed her eyes.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she whispered:
"Richard found out someone inside the family was working with the people trying to take his company."
Adrian's expression changed.
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"You do."
"No."
She looked at him.
"I knew who they wanted me to believe."
A silence.
Then:
"But I was wrong."
Adrian frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Elena walked toward the desk.
Her hands were shaking.
"Richard called me here that night."
She touched the wooden surface.
"He told me everything."
"What everything?"
"That someone had been using Adrian."
Adrian froze.
"Using me how?"
Elena looked at him.
"Making you angry."
Nobody spoke.
"Making you believe your father didn't trust you."
Adrian looked away.
Because that was the one thing everyone knew about him.
The distance between him and his father.
The years of silence.
The years where Adrian believed he had been rejected.
"He wanted to tell you the truth," Elena continued.
"But before he could..."
She stopped.
The memory hurt her.
"What?"
I asked.
She looked at me.
"You came into the room."
My breathing stopped.
"I came?"
She nodded.
"You were six."
A flash.
A door.
A hallway.
My small feet.
My hand holding something.
I closed my eyes.
"I remember."
Everyone turned.
I grabbed my head.
"I was looking for him."
My voice became smaller.
"I heard shouting."
Another memory.
A man's voice.
"Run, Mara."
My eyes opened.
"He told me to run."
Elena started crying.
"Yes."
"What happened next?"
She looked at me.
"You saw the knife."
I froze.
"Who was holding it?"
She didn't answer.
I already knew.
Because my memory was coming back.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Not a woman.
Not Elena.
Someone else.
A shadow behind her.
A hand.
A movement.
Someone standing near the door.
"Mom..."
Elena looked at me.
"It wasn't you."
The words came out suddenly.
"What?"
"You thought it was you."
I couldn't breathe.
"When you were six, you blamed yourself."
A tear slipped down my face.
"Why?"
"Because Richard told you to run."
She looked at me.
"And you thought if you had stayed, you could have saved him."
The room disappeared.
Because I remembered.
Not everything.
But enough.
My father on the floor.
Elena screaming.
Someone leaving.
A hand grabbing me.
A voice whispering:
"Forget what you saw."
I looked at Adrian.
"I know who was there."
Everyone became still.
"Who?"
I opened my mouth.
But before I could answer...
The mansion alarm exploded.
The windows shook.
The lights turned red.
Security rushed into the room.
"Mr. Vale!"
Adrian turned.
"What happened?"
The guard looked terrified.
"Someone entered the property."
"Who?"
The guard hesitated.
Then:
"We don't know."
Adrian's face darkened.
"Check the cameras."
The guard looked down.
"That's the problem."
"What?"
"The person disabled every camera except one."
My stomach tightened.
"Which one?"
The guard looked at me.
"The one inside this office."
Nobody spoke.
Adrian immediately moved toward the monitor.
The screen turned on.
A recording began.
Black and white.
Old footage.
From twenty years ago.
The same office.
The same night.
A little girl entered the room.
Me.
Everyone watched silently.
I saw my younger self walk toward my father.
Then the camera angle changed.
A person stepped into the room.
My heart stopped.
Because I recognized the clothes.
The movement.
The way they walked.
The recording zoomed in.
The person's face slowly appeared.
Adrian whispered:
"No..."
Elena covered her mouth.
Thomas stepped back.
And I saw the person who had been hidden from me for twenty years.
The person standing behind my father the night he died.
The person holding the knife.
The person I trusted most.
The recording froze.
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And beneath the image, a name appeared.
Mara Hayes.
