Chapter 11 - The Truth Hidden In The Recording
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
Because the man standing at the bottom of the stairs was impossible.
Arthur Bellamy.
Marcus's father.
The man who had been declared dead twelve years ago.
The man whose death started everything.
My eyes moved between Marcus and Arthur.
The resemblance was undeniable.
The same eyes.
The same expression.
The same quiet way of standing like the entire room belonged to him.
But Marcus looked like he had seen a ghost.
Because he had.
"My father."
The words barely left his mouth.
Arthur looked at him.
And for a moment, I saw something I had not expected.
Pain.
Not guilt.
Not fear.
Pain.
"Marcus."
My heart tightened.
Because that was not the voice of a stranger.
That was a father speaking to his son.
Marcus took one step forward.
Then stopped.
"You were alive."
Arthur lowered his eyes.
"Yes."
The simplicity of the answer was cruel.
Twelve years of grief.
Twelve years of questions.
And the truth was standing right in front of him.
Alive.
Marcus laughed quietly.
But there was no happiness in it.
"No."
He shook his head.
"You don't get to just say yes."
Arthur remained silent.
"You let me bury you."
"I know."
"You let me believe I lost you."
"I know."
"You let me hate myself because I thought I wasn't there when you needed me."
Arthur looked away.
That was the first time I saw him break.
Only slightly.
But enough.
"I know."
The room became heavy.
I looked at Marcus.
For the first time, I understood something.
He wasn't just helping me find the truth.
He was searching for the same person I was.
Someone he thought he had lost forever.
Arthur slowly walked toward the desk.
He looked at the recorder in my hand.
"You found it."
I held it tighter.
"Who are you talking about?"
Arthur looked at me.
"My son."
Then:
"Or your father?"
The question confused me.
"What?"
Arthur sighed.
"Because both of them were trying to uncover the same thing."
I looked at Daniel.
Then Victor.
Then Arthur.
"Everyone keeps saying that."
My voice shook.
"The same thing."
I stepped closer.
"What thing?"
Arthur looked around the hidden room.
At the documents.
The photographs.
The evidence.
Then he finally answered.
"The company was never the problem."
Marcus frowned.
"What?"
Arthur looked at him.
"The money was only a distraction."
He walked to one of the shelves.
"The real problem was the people controlling where that money went."
He pulled out a file.
Old.
Thick.
He placed it on the desk.
Inside were photographs.
Names.
Records.
And one name appeared repeatedly.
Cassandra Vale.
I froze.
"Cassandra?"
Arthur nodded.
"She wasn't just a socialite."
Marcus looked at the documents.
"She worked with my father?"
Arthur looked at him.
"She worked with the people who destroyed your father."
The memory of Cassandra pouring water over me came back.
The arrogance.
The confidence.
The way she acted like she knew something I didn't.
Because she did.
I looked at the file.
"Why was she at the dinner?"
Arthur looked at me.
"Because she wanted to see if you found the letter."
A chill moved through me.
"She knew."
"Yes."
"How?"
Arthur didn't answer immediately.
Then he looked at Daniel.
Daniel lowered his head.
My heart sank.
"No."
Daniel looked at me.
"Evelyn..."
"No."
I stepped back.
"Not you."
The silence confirmed everything before he spoke.
"I didn't betray your mother."
"Then why does he look at you like that?"
I pointed toward Arthur.
Arthur's expression was complicated.
Because there was history between them.
A history I still didn't understand.
Daniel took a breath.
"Because I made a mistake."
"What mistake?"
He looked at the floor.
"The night your father disappeared..."
The room went silent.
Again.
Always that night.
The night everyone avoided.
"The night your father disappeared, he wasn't alone."
I stared at him.
"Who was with him?"
Daniel looked at Marcus.
Then Arthur.
Then me.
"Your mother."
I already knew that.
But then he continued.
"And me."
The words hit harder.
"You were there?"
Daniel nodded.
"I followed him."
"Why?"
"Because I thought he was meeting someone dangerous."
"Was he?"
Daniel looked at Arthur.
"Yes."
Arthur looked away.
"I was there."
Marcus stepped forward.
"You?"
Arthur nodded.
"I was trying to warn him."
"About what?"
Arthur's face became serious.
"About the person who had been feeding information to our enemies."
The recorder on the table suddenly felt heavier in my hand.
My father.
My mother.
Marcus's father.
Daniel.
All connected.
All hiding pieces.
"Who was it?"
Arthur looked at me.
And for the first time, I saw hesitation.
Not because he didn't know.
Because he knew too well.
"Evelyn."
His voice became quiet.
"The person who betrayed your family..."
A sound interrupted him.
A phone ringing.
Everyone froze.
Not mine.
Not Marcus's.
A phone hidden somewhere in the room.
Arthur's expression changed.
"No."
He moved quickly toward the old desk.
"There shouldn't be anyone else here."
He searched beneath the papers.
Then found a small device.
An old phone.
The screen was glowing.
One message appeared.
Everyone saw it.
You were never supposed to find Arthur.
The room went cold.
Marcus looked toward the stairs.
"Someone followed us."
Arthur looked at the message.
Then at me.
"No."
"What?"
His face had changed completely.
"That's not a warning."
I frowned.
"Then what is it?"
Arthur slowly turned the phone around.
A second message appeared.
I wanted you to find him.
My breathing stopped.
Because beneath that message was another line.
A name.
The sender's name.
I looked at the screen.
And felt every piece of my life collapse again.
Because the person who sent it was not Cassandra.
Not Victor.
Not Daniel.
Not a stranger.
May you like
It was someone I had trusted my entire life.
My mother.
