Chapter 5 - The Letter My Mother Left Behind
The phone screen was still glowing.
"She is standing behind you."
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
For a few seconds, I could hear nothing except the faint sound of the generator outside.
Then Dominic slowly turned around.
I did the same.
There was no one behind me.
Only the empty hallway.
The dark wooden walls.
The shadows stretching across the floor.
But the message had been clear.
Someone wanted us to believe they were there.
Or someone wanted me to look at the person standing closest to me.
My eyes moved around the room.
Dominic.
Claire.
Victor.
Three people.
Three people who knew more about my past than I did.
I looked at Claire.
Her face was pale.
Not because she was afraid of the message.
Because she understood it.
"You know what this means."
Claire didn't answer.
That was the answer.
Dominic noticed too.
"You know who sent it."
Claire looked at him.
"No."
"You're lying."
She looked away.
Victor stepped closer to the table.
"She doesn't know who sent it."
Dominic looked at him.
"And you do?"
Victor didn't respond.
That silence told me everything.
I looked at him.
"You know."
Victor looked at me.
"I know who started this."
"Who?"
He stared at the envelope with my name.
"The person who made sure you spent five years searching for the wrong answers."
My hands tightened.
I hated that sentence.
Not because it was impossible.
Because some part of me believed it.
I had spent years trying to understand why my investigation collapsed.
Why evidence disappeared.
Why witnesses changed their stories.
Why Claire vanished.
I thought I had failed.
But now I wondered if I had been allowed to find only the pieces someone wanted me to find.
I picked up the envelope.
Nobody stopped me.
Maybe because they knew I would open it eventually.
Maybe because they were afraid of what was inside.
The paper felt old.
The edges were worn.
My name was written across the front.
Not typed.
Handwritten.
My mother's handwriting.
I had seen it thousands of times.
On birthday cards.
On notes left on the kitchen table.
On the small letters she wrote when I moved away for college.
My fingers froze.
Because there was no mistake.
This was her handwriting.
But the date made no sense.
Five years after she died.
I opened it.
Inside was one single page.
Only a few lines.
My daughter,
If you are reading this, then they found the truth before I could protect you.
Do not trust the person who tells you they saved you.
They were the reason you needed saving.
I read the words again.
Then again.
My heart started beating faster.
"She knew."
Everyone looked at me.
I held the letter.
"My mother knew this would happen."
Claire stepped forward.
"Let me see."
I pulled the paper away.
"No."
Her expression changed.
Not anger.
Pain.
"Please."
I looked at her.
"You disappeared."
Her eyes lowered.
"I know."
"You let me think you were dead."
"I know."
"Then you don't get to ask me to trust you."
The room became quiet.
Claire accepted it.
Maybe because she knew I was right.
Victor watched us.
"You should ask her why your mother trusted her."
I looked at Claire.
"What does he mean?"
Claire said nothing.
That was becoming a pattern.
Everyone had information.
Everyone had secrets.
And I was the only person standing in the middle without the full story.
Dominic walked toward the table.
"Enough."
He looked at Claire.
"Tell her."
Claire closed her eyes.
For a moment, she looked exhausted.
Then she spoke.
"Your mother contacted me six months before she died."
I froze.
"Why?"
"Because she found something."
"What?"
Claire looked at Victor.
"Something connected to the same network that controls Dominic's organization."
Dominic's face darkened.
"Network?"
Victor answered.
"The people who have been moving pieces around without anyone seeing."
I looked between them.
"You keep talking about them like they're ghosts."
Victor shook his head.
"They are worse."
"Why?"
"Because ghosts are dead."
He looked at the hidden camera.
"They're alive."
A cold feeling moved through me.
I looked back at my mother's letter.
She had known.
She had been trying to warn me.
But why wait until now?
Why hide the truth for five years?
Claire answered before I asked.
"Because she was trying to keep you alive."
I looked at her.
"My mother died."
Claire nodded.
"Yes."
"Then what was she protecting me from?"
Nobody answered.
That was when I heard something.
A soft sound.
From outside.
Not footsteps.
Something else.
A car door closing.
Dominic immediately moved toward the window.
The lodge became tense again.
He looked outside.
Then his expression changed.
"There is someone here."
Victor moved beside him.
"Who?"
Dominic didn't answer.
He reached for the security monitor.
The screen showed the driveway.
A black vehicle was parked near the entrance.
No headlights.
No driver visible.
Just sitting there.
Waiting.
I walked closer.
"How long has it been there?"
Dominic checked the recording.
His face became serious.
"Twenty minutes."
"Nobody saw it?"
"No."
Victor looked at Claire.
"That means they wanted us to find it."
Dominic grabbed his jacket.
"I'll handle it."
"No."
Everyone looked at me.
I stared at the vehicle.
"They want you to go outside."
Dominic frowned.
"How do you know?"
"Because whoever sent the message knows exactly how you react."
I pointed at the screen.
"They know you protect your territory."
Silence.
Victor looked at me.
"She's right."
Dominic hated hearing that.
But he knew it too.
The person outside wasn't trying to hide.
They were inviting him.
And that meant it was a trap.
The vehicle suddenly turned on.
The engine started.
But it didn't leave.
Instead, the passenger door opened.
A person stepped out.
The camera was too far away to see the face.
But the person walked toward the lodge.
Slowly.
Confidently.
Like they knew nobody inside could stop them.
Dominic reached for his weapon.
Claire whispered:
"No."
I looked at her.
"You know them."
She didn't answer.
The person reached the front door.
Three knocks.
Everyone froze.
Because whoever was outside wasn't afraid.
They weren't trying to break in.
They were asking to be invited.
Dominic looked at me.
"Who is it?"
I stared at the door.
"I don't know."
But deep down, I knew something was wrong.
Because the person outside was not here for Dominic.
They were here for me.
The door handle slowly moved.
Once.
May you like
Twice.
Then the lock clicked open from the outside.
