Chapter 8: The Dead Man
Jason was alive.
That fact should have been enough to destroy every lie.
Instead, it created ten more questions.
Maya drove us to the courthouse through a side entrance.
Sarah stayed behind.
She refused to come.
“I can't go in there,” she said.
“Why?””
“Because Hale will know.””
I grabbed the door.
“He already knows.””
Sarah shook her head.
“You don't understand.””
“What don't I understand?””
She looked at me.
“Your brother isn't helping us.””
I froze.
“What?””
“He's trying to stop Hale.””
“That's helping.””
“No.””
Sarah's voice dropped.
“He has his own reason.””
I stared at her.
“What reason?””
“He wants Emily.””
My blood turned cold.
“What?””
“He thinks she's the key.””
Maya stepped in.
“We're wasting time.””
Inside the courthouse, alarms were flashing.
Security officers moved through the halls.
The archive door stood open.
Records were scattered everywhere.
A single file lay on the floor.
Mine.
Maya picked it up.
Inside were photographs of me as a child.
I stared at them.
Five-year-old me.
Same eyes.
Same scar above my eyebrow.
Same tiny tattoo on my wrist.
I remembered the tattoo.
I had always believed my father had let me have it as a teenager.
But the photograph showed it.
At five.
Maya whispered, “That's impossible.””
Jason stepped from the shadows.
“Not impossible.””
I turned.
He looked older than the last time I'd seen him in a coffin.
“Jason.””
He smiled.
“Hey, little brother.””
I couldn't speak.
Then anger finally found me.
“You let me bury you.””
“I didn't.””
“You were there.””
“No.””
“The funeral.””
“A body was.””
I stared.
“You had my brother's face.””
Jason shook his head.
“Not mine.””
“Then whose?””
He didn't answer.
Maya raised her weapon.
“Stay where you are.””
Jason looked at her.
“Put it down.””
“No.””
“You'll make noise.””
“I don't care.””
“You should.””
A shot cracked from the far corridor.
Glass shattered.
Jason grabbed me and pulled me behind a pillar.
“Get down!””
Another shot.
Maya ducked.
“Who's shooting?””
“Hale's people.””
Jason pulled a small key from his pocket.
“We have three minutes.””
“For what?””
“To open the vault.””
“What's inside?””
“Your original file.””
“About me?””
“About all of us.””
He looked at me.
“Especially Emily.””
I wanted to trust him.
Part of me already did.
But Sarah's warning echoed in my mind.
He wants Emily.
“Why do you need her?””
Jason's expression changed.
“Because she's not what you think.””
“She isn't my biological daughter.””
Jason stared at me.
“Who told you that?””
“Sarah.””
He smiled bitterly.
“That's only half the truth.””
“What's the other half?””
Jason handed me the key.
“You are Emily's biological father.””
I stopped breathing.
“What?””
“The DNA test was fake.””
“But—”
“Hale planted it.””
“Why?””
“To make you question your identity.””
“Why would he care about my relationship with Emily?””
“Because blood matters.””
I shook my head.
“You're not making sense.””
Jason looked toward the corridor.
“Emily's mother isn't Sarah.””
I stared.
He continued.
“You married Sarah after Emily was already assigned to you.””
I felt dizzy.
“What?””
“Sarah raised her.””
“But Emily called her Mom.””
“Because she was.””
“Then who is her biological mother?””
Jason's eyes hardened.
“A woman Hale killed.””
Silence.
“What was her name?””
“Anna.””
I knew that name.
I'd heard it once.
In my father's old notebooks.
Anna Carter.
My father's surname.
My sister?
No.
Impossible.
Jason saw my face.
“Anna was your father's daughter.””
I stared at him.
“She was my sister?””
“Yes.””
“And Emily—”
“Was Anna's child.””
My knees weakened.
Jason caught my shoulder.
“She gave Emily to Sarah because she knew she was going to die.””
I whispered, “Then I'm not Emily's father.””
“No.””
Jason looked at me.
“You're her uncle.””
The words landed like a blow.
“Why did Sarah say I was her father?””
“Because Hale needed you to believe it.””
“And Emily?””
Jason's voice broke.
“Because she needs to believe you're her father to unlock the final evidence.””
“What evidence?””
He pointed toward the vault.
“Your father's confession.””
The vault door opened.
Inside was one metal box.
My name was engraved on it.
I opened it.
A cassette recorder sat beside a handwritten letter.
I pressed play.
My father's voice filled the room.
“Daniel, if you're hearing this, then the people who buried the truth have found you.””
I closed my eyes.
His voice continued.
“Do not trust the man who looks like Jason.””
I looked at my brother.
His face went pale.
The recording continued.
“Because Jason died three years ago.””
My hands froze.
Jason whispered, “No.””
My father's voice said:
“The man standing beside you is not my son.””
May you like
Then the courthouse lights went out.
And in the darkness, someone grabbed Emily's stuffed rabbit from my hands.
