Chapter 10 - The Room Beneath The House
I heard my father's voice.
After twelve years.
Inside the house where I had spent my childhood.
Inside the place where I thought every memory had already been buried.
"She's here."
My body froze.
I couldn't move.
I couldn't speak.
Because that voice was impossible.
The man I had cried for.
The man I had hated.
The man I had spent years trying to forget.
Was standing somewhere inside that house.
Alive.
Marcus stepped beside me.
His face had changed.
Not because he was surprised.
Because he was afraid.
"Don't go in."
I looked at him.
"What?"
He stared at the open door.
"Something is wrong."
I almost laughed.
Something was wrong?
Everything had been wrong since the moment Cassandra poured that glass of water over me.
Since the moment my mother's letter appeared.
Since the moment I learned my entire childhood was built on secrets.
But this was different.
This was my father.
I pushed the door open.
"Evelyn."
The voice came again.
Closer.
I stepped inside.
The house smelled exactly the same.
Old wood.
Dust.
A faint trace of the perfume my mother used to wear.
For a second, I was eight years old again.
Running through the hallway.
Calling for my parents.
Believing they would always be there.
Then reality returned.
The furniture was covered.
The walls were empty.
The place where my family had lived was now just a shell.
But someone had been here recently.
A lamp was on.
A cup of coffee sat on the table.
Still warm.
Marcus noticed it too.
"Someone was waiting."
I didn't answer.
Because I knew.
They were waiting for me.
We moved deeper into the house.
Daniel followed behind us.
Victor stayed near the entrance.
Watching.
Always watching.
I hated that I still didn't know whether he was protecting us or controlling the situation.
Then I saw it.
The wall.
The one behind the old bookshelf.
The wall my father had repaired when I was little.
I remembered asking him why he spent so much time there.
He smiled and told me:
"Some things need to stay hidden until the right person finds them."
At the time, I thought he was talking about a toy.
A childhood secret.
Not my entire life.
I walked toward it.
My fingers touched the wooden frame.
"There."
Daniel whispered.
I looked back.
"What?"
He pointed.
A small mark near the bottom.
Almost invisible.
A symbol.
My mother used to draw it on birthday cards.
A small circle with a line through the middle.
A symbol I thought meant nothing.
I pressed it.
A click echoed through the room.
The bookshelf moved.
Slowly.
Revealing a hidden door.
Nobody spoke.
Not even Marcus.
Behind the door was a narrow staircase leading downward.
Cold air moved upward.
Carrying the smell of old paper.
And something else.
Fear.
"I didn't know this existed."
Marcus whispered.
I looked at him.
"You were here that night."
His face tightened.
"Yes."
"And you didn't know?"
"No."
For once, I believed him.
Because he looked genuinely shocked.
Daniel stepped closer.
"Your father built this."
I looked at him.
"You knew?"
"I knew he had a place to hide things."
"Things like what?"
Daniel looked down the stairs.
"Evidence."
The word followed us downward.
The basement was not like the rest of the house.
It was preserved.
Almost untouched.
A desk.
A chair.
Shelves filled with files.
Photographs.
Old computers.
Everything my father had hidden.
Everything someone had spent years trying to find.
I walked toward the desk.
There was a photograph sitting on top.
A picture of my family.
My father.
My mother.
Me.
I picked it up.
On the back was a date.
The day before my father disappeared.
My hands shook.
Then I saw another note beneath it.
Evelyn.
If you found this room, then you finally know I never left you.
I stopped reading.
My eyes filled.
I continued.
Everything I did was to protect you and your mother.
But I failed.
I failed because I trusted someone I shouldn't have.
I looked around.
Everyone was silent.
Even Victor.
The letter continued.
The person who destroyed our family is not the person you think.
I looked at Marcus.
Then Daniel.
Then Victor.
The same sentence again.
Always another hidden truth.
Always another person.
My father's handwriting became darker.
More rushed.
If you are reading this, don't trust anyone who says they were protecting you.
My breath caught.
Because that meant everyone in the room.
Everyone who claimed they were helping me.
Could be lying.
A sound came from upstairs.
A door closing.
Everyone looked up.
Marcus immediately moved toward the stairs.
"Someone is here."
Daniel grabbed his arm.
"Wait."
Marcus looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because if they wanted to kill us, they would have already."
That was not comforting.
I returned to the letter.
The final line was different.
Written separately.
Almost like my father added it later.
A warning.
The truth is in the recording.
My eyes moved to the desk.
A small black box sat beneath the papers.
Inside was a voice recorder.
Old.
Simple.
Waiting.
I picked it up.
"Evelyn."
My father's voice.
Not from a phone.
Not distant.
Recorded years ago.
My hands started shaking.
I pressed play.
For several seconds, there was only static.
Then:
"If you are hearing this, then I couldn't come back."
I closed my eyes.
The tears came before I could stop them.
"I know you will be angry."
A pause.
"I know you will think I abandoned you."
My hand covered my mouth.
"But I need you to understand something."
The recording became quieter.
"I didn't disappear because I wanted to leave."
Another pause.
"I disappeared because someone inside our family betrayed us."
Everyone froze.
Inside our family.
My father continued.
"The person who helped destroy everything was someone your mother trusted completely."
The recording stopped.
Just like that.
Everyone stared at the device.
I pressed the button again.
Nothing.
The battery was dead.
Marcus looked at the shelves.
"There must be another copy."
Daniel shook his head.
"No."
"How do you know?"
Daniel looked at the recorder.
"Because your father only trusted one person with the full recording."
I turned toward him.
"Who?"
Daniel didn't answer.
He looked at the stairs.
And my heart sank.
Because someone had been listening.
Someone who knew exactly what we were doing.
A floorboard creaked above us.
Slowly.
Then another.
Someone was walking down.
Toward us.
Marcus moved in front of me.
Victor reached inside his coat.
Daniel whispered:
"Evelyn..."
I looked toward the staircase.
A shadow appeared on the wall.
A person was coming down.
Slowly.
Carefully.
And then the person spoke.
"Daniel."
Everyone froze.
Because it was a voice I knew.
A voice from my childhood.
A voice that should have been impossible.
The person stepped into the light.
And I saw the face of the man holding the second half of my father's recording.
It was my father's closest friend.
The man my mother trusted more than anyone.
The man who had disappeared the night my father vanished.
May you like
Arthur Bellamy.
Marcus's father.
