Part 8: The Mother Who Knew Too Much
Part 8: The Mother Who Knew Too Much
For a long time, I just stared at the note.
The paper shook slightly in my hand.
Not because I was scared.
Because my mind refused to accept what I was seeing.
My mother.
The woman who raised me.
The woman who cried at my father’s funeral.
The woman who told me she lost the love of her life.
Her name was written there.
Not as a victim.
Not as someone searching for answers.
But as someone who knew.
“Daniel?”
Lily’s small voice pulled me back.
I looked down.
She was standing there, holding her stuffed rabbit tightly.
Her eyes were full of fear.
The same fear I saw in her at the wedding.
“What happened, sweetheart?”
She looked toward the empty hallway.
“Mommy got a phone call.”
“When?”
“Before you came.”
“What did she say?”
Lily shook her head.
“She told me to stay here.”
A pause.
“She said she had to fix something.”
My heart tightened.
Because that sounded exactly like the kind of thing people said before disappearing.
“Did she tell you where she was going?”
Lily looked down.
Then whispered:
“She said she was going to see someone from your family.”
My family.
Again.
I crouched down.
“Lily, did you see who called her?”
She nodded.
“A man.”
“What man?”
She thought for a moment.
Then:
“He sounded old.”
Old.
My mind immediately went back to the phone call.
My father.
“Did your mom say his name?”
Lily shook her head.
But then she added:
“She looked scared.”
That was the part that worried me.
Amelia scared me sometimes.
She hid things.
She lied.
But she was not someone who scared easily.
I stood up.
Picked up my phone.
Called Amelia.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
I called a third time.
Nothing.
My hands tightened.
“Daniel?”
Lily looked up.
“Are you mad at Mommy?”
The question caught me off guard.
Because she wasn’t asking about the situation.
She was asking about her.
I looked at this little girl.
A child who had already experienced adults leaving.
Adults fighting.
Adults hiding.
“No.”
I sat beside her.
“I’m not mad at your mom.”
She studied my face.
“Really?”
I nodded.
“I’m trying to understand.”
She hugged her rabbit.
“Adults always say that.”
I froze.
“What do you mean?”
She shrugged.
“People say they want to understand.”
A pause.
“Then they leave.”
That sentence hurt more than I expected.
Because she wasn’t talking about me.
She was talking about her whole life.
I looked at her.
And made a decision.
“I’m not leaving.”
She looked at me.
“Promise?”
I nodded.
“Promise.”
After making sure she was safe, I called the only person I could think of.
My father.
The number was still blocked.
But the missed call from earlier had left a trace.
I used the number.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
Then:
“Daniel.”
His voice again.
My anger came back immediately.
“Where is Amelia?”
Silence.
“Dad.”
My voice hardened.
“I’m done playing games.”
A pause.
Then:
“You found the note.”
My blood ran cold.
“How do you know about the note?”
“Because I wrote it.”
I froze.
“You?”
“Yes.”
I looked around the room.
At Lily.
At the empty apartment.
At everything that was falling apart.
“Where is Amelia?”
“She went to find the truth.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Daniel…”
“No.”
I interrupted.
“You don’t get to disappear for eight years and suddenly act like you’re protecting me.”
A long silence.
Then my father said something I never expected.
“You’re right.”
I stopped.
“I made mistakes.”
That sentence sounded strange coming from him.
My father had never admitted being wrong.
Not once.
“Where were you?”
I asked.
Silence.
Finally:
“Running.”
“From who?”
“From your grandfather’s enemies.”
I frowned.
“My grandfather is dead.”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“But his secrets weren’t.”
I closed my eyes.
“Tell me everything.”
My father sighed.
And for the first time…
He sounded tired.
“When I discovered what your grandfather had built, I wanted out.”
“What did he build?”
“A network.”
“Doing what?”
My father answered quietly:
“Collecting information.”
“Blackmail?”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
The word made my stomach turn.
“Why was I involved?”
“Because your grandfather trusted you.”
I almost laughed.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
I waited.
“He believed you were the only person who would destroy the files instead of using them.”
I looked at Lily.
“And now?”
“Now someone else found them.”
“Who?”
My father hesitated.
Then:
“Ethan.”
My chest tightened.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because Ethan was never looking for Lily.”
A pause.
“He was looking for what was hidden with her.”
I looked at the little girl.
“What was hidden?”
My father went silent.
Too long.
“Dad.”
Finally, he answered.
“The final access code.”
I frowned.
“Access to what?”
“The archive.”
I stared.
“What archive?”
My father whispered:
“The one that contains every secret your grandfather ever collected.”
The room went cold.
“And Lily has the key?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
My father’s answer made my blood freeze.
“She has the code.”
I looked at Lily.
My daughter.
The little girl everyone was fighting over.
A child who didn’t even know she was carrying the thing powerful people would destroy lives for.
“Where is Amelia?”
I asked again.
My father went quiet.
Then he said:
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“Don’t go after her.”
My heart sank.
“Why?”
His voice lowered.
“Because if Amelia found the truth…”
A pause.
“She’s standing in the same room where your father disappeared.”
I stopped breathing.
“Where?”
My father whispered:
“The old Carter estate.”
The house I had not entered since I was eight years old.
The house everyone said was abandoned.
The house where my father was supposedly killed.
May you like
And now…
Amelia was there.
