Chapter 5 - The Secret Buried in My Childhood
The photograph stayed between us.
A small piece of paper.
A moment frozen in time.
But somehow, it felt heavier than anything I had ever held.
Because those words were impossible.
"Chloe was never supposed to survive."
I stared at the sentence until the letters blurred.
My hands felt cold.
My breathing became shallow.
"That's not possible."
Nobody answered.
I looked at Adrian.
He was still staring at the photograph.
Not at me.
Not at the room.
At the picture of a little girl standing beside her parents.
Like he was searching for an answer hidden inside the image.
"Say something."
His eyes lifted.
"What do you remember?"
I almost laughed.
Because that was the question everyone seemed to be asking.
What do you remember?
But the truth was terrifying.
I didn't know.
"I remember my parents."
My voice was quiet.
"I remember my mother singing when she cooked."
I swallowed.
"I remember my father teaching me how to ride a bicycle."
The memories came slowly.
Small pieces.
Safe pieces.
"But I don't remember the accident."
Adrian's expression hardened.
"Nothing?"
I shook my head.
"Nothing."
Marcus looked at the photograph again.
"Whoever wrote this knew about the accident."
I looked at him.
"Everyone knew."
"No."
Marcus pointed at the picture.
"Not like this."
The room became silent.
I hated that they were right.
Because the longer I looked at the photo, the stranger it felt.
There was something wrong.
Something I couldn't explain.
I looked at the little girl.
At myself.
Then at my parents.
My mother was smiling.
My father had his hand on my shoulder.
A normal family photo.
Except...
I touched the corner.
"There should be another person."
Adrian immediately looked at me.
"What?"
I frowned.
"I don't know."
The words came out before I understood them.
"There should be someone else."
Marcus stepped closer.
"Why do you think that?"
"I don't know."
I closed my eyes.
And suddenly—
A memory.
A flash.
A dark hallway.
A woman's voice.
Someone crying.
A hand holding mine.
A sentence.
"Don't look back, Chloe."
My eyes opened.
I gasped.
Adrian noticed.
"What did you see?"
I looked at him.
"I don't know."
"Try."
I hated that I wanted to.
Because I knew something was buried inside my own mind.
Something I had spent years avoiding.
"I saw..."
I stopped.
"A hallway."
"What hallway?"
"I don't know."
"Who was there?"
My heart started beating faster.
"A woman."
"Your mother?"
I shook my head.
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
"No."
Adrian and Marcus exchanged a glance.
"Then who?"
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
"I don't know."
But deep down...
I knew that was a lie.
Not completely.
Not yet.
But part of me knew.
And that part was terrified.
Adrian stepped closer.
"Chloe."
I looked at him.
"Your parents' death was investigated?"
"Yes."
"By who?"
"The police."
"Any witnesses?"
I hesitated.
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"I was seven."
My voice became sharper.
"I lost my parents. I wasn't reading investigation reports."
Adrian didn't react.
He understood.
But Marcus did something strange.
He looked uncomfortable.
"What?"
I asked.
He looked away.
"What aren't you telling me?"
Silence.
That was becoming a pattern.
A terrible pattern.
"Marcus."
Adrian's voice was low.
"Tell her."
Marcus took a breath.
"The accident report disappeared."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"The official file."
He looked at me.
"It was removed from the police archive twelve years ago."
My stomach dropped.
"Why?"
"We don't know."
"Then how do you know?"
Marcus looked at Adrian.
And I saw it.
The hesitation.
The secret between them.
"How do you know?"
Adrian answered this time.
"Because I looked for it."
I froze.
"What?"
He didn't look away.
"I searched your parents' case before today."
My anger returned instantly.
"You searched my family?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
A long silence.
Then Adrian said:
"Because your father's name appeared in my world."
I stared at him.
"My father?"
"Thomas Henderson."
Hearing my father's full name from Adrian's mouth felt wrong.
Like two parts of my life that were never supposed to meet had suddenly collided.
"What did he have to do with you?"
Adrian walked toward the kitchen counter.
There was a seriousness in his face I hadn't seen before.
"Your father worked with people who handled money for powerful organizations."
I shook my head.
"No."
"He wasn't what you think."
"Because you don't know him."
Adrian looked at me.
"I know more than you do."
The words hurt.
Because they were true.
I knew almost nothing.
Not about my parents' work.
Not about their enemies.
Not about the reason someone wanted me dead.
"What happened to my father?"
Adrian didn't answer.
And that frightened me.
"Adrian."
"He found something."
"What?"
"Something he wasn't supposed to find."
The apartment suddenly felt colder.
"What?"
He looked at the photograph.
"A record."
"A record of what?"
"A list."
I waited.
But he didn't continue.
"Adrian."
His jaw tightened.
"A list of names."
"Whose names?"
He looked at me.
"People who controlled Chicago from the shadows."
I laughed nervously.
"This is insane."
"I know."
"No, you don't understand."
I pointed around my apartment.
"This is my life."
I looked at the photograph.
"My parents weren't criminals."
"I didn't say they were."
"But you're making it sound like they were involved in some secret war."
Adrian's expression softened slightly.
"Because they were."
I looked away.
I wanted to deny it.
I wanted to call him crazy.
But every answer created another question.
And every question led back to one terrifying possibility.
My entire childhood was built on something I didn't know.
A sound interrupted us.
A notification.
My phone.
Everyone turned.
I picked it up.
Unknown number.
Again.
A video file.
No message.
Just a file.
Adrian immediately reached for it.
"Don't open it."
I pulled my phone back.
"Why?"
"Because whoever sent that wants you to."
"And?"
"And people like that don't send gifts."
I stared at the screen.
Then pressed play.
Adrian moved closer.
Marcus watched carefully.
The video loaded.
Static.
Darkness.
Then an image appeared.
A room.
An old room.
A child-sized chair.
A wooden table.
And someone sitting there.
My breath stopped.
Because I recognized the room.
Even though I had never seen it before.
A voice spoke.
A woman's voice.
The same voice from my memory.
"Chloe."
I froze.
The woman continued.
"If you are watching this, it means Adrian Vale found you."
Adrian's face changed.
He knew the voice.
"Who is she?" I whispered.
Nobody answered.
The video continued.
The woman moved closer to the camera.
Her face remained hidden.
But her next words made my entire body go numb.
"Your parents didn't die because of an accident."
I stopped breathing.
"They died because they tried to protect you."
Adrian stepped forward.
"Pause it."
But I couldn't move.
The woman continued.
"And the person who ordered their deaths..."
The screen flickered.
Static covered her face.
Then the video froze.
A final frame appeared.
A name.
Not my father's.
Not Victoria's.
A name Adrian recognized instantly.
His expression changed.
Because the person who had destroyed my family...
Was someone he thought was already dead.
May you like
The video suddenly deleted itself.
And at that exact moment, someone knocked on my apartment door.
