Chapter 6: The Man Who Was Supposed To Be Dead
I stared at the phone screen until the words blurred.
Stop digging, James. Your mother died because she asked questions. Don’t make the same mistake.
The message itself was terrifying.
But it was the number that made my hands go cold.
Winnie looked like she had seen a ghost.
“You said this number belongs to someone who was supposed to be dead.””
She nodded slowly.
“I know.””
“Who?””
She looked toward the house.
Not at me.
Not at the phone.
The house.
Like she was afraid the walls might hear her.
“Winnie.””
She swallowed.
“My father.””
The world seemed to stop.
I looked back at the message.
The unknown number.
The warning.
The person behind it.
“Your father?””
She nodded.
“Mark.””
A thousand questions rushed through my mind at once.
“But he’s alive.””
“Yes.””
“Then why did you say he was supposed to be dead?””
Winnie hugged herself tighter.
“Because that’s what Mom told everyone.””
I stood up.
“Your mother told people your father died?””
“Not exactly.””
“Then what?””
Winnie looked down.
“She told people he disappeared.””
“That’s different.””
“Not when you’re trying to erase someone.””
The sentence stayed with me.
I looked back at the house.
Clara had spent years controlling the story.
She controlled what people knew.
What people believed.
Even the truth itself seemed to belong to her.
“Why would she tell everyone Mark was gone?””
Winnie shook her head.
“I don’t know.””
“But you knew he was alive?””
“I found out recently.””
“How?””
She hesitated.
Then answered quietly.
“He contacted me.””
The air left my lungs.
“When?””
“A few months ago.””
“Before all this started?””
She nodded.
“What did he say?””
Winnie looked uncomfortable.
“He said he wanted to protect me.””
I almost laughed.
Everyone in this family used the same words.
Protect.
Safe.
Family.
But every time someone said them, something terrible followed.
“And did you believe him?””
“At first.””
“What changed?””
Her eyes filled with sadness.
“Then I realized everyone was lying.””
I looked at her.
“What do you mean?””
She took a deep breath.
“My whole life, Mom told me Mark abandoned us. She said he was selfish. She said he didn’t care if we lived or died.””
“And?””
“And when I talked to him, he told me the exact opposite.””
“What did he say?””
“He said Mom took me away from him.””
I looked toward the house.
“Who is telling the truth?””
Winnie shook her head.
“I don’t know.””
For the first time, I believed her.
Because she looked exactly how I felt.
Lost.
Trapped between two versions of reality.
Then my phone vibrated again.
Another message.
This time from the same number.
*Ask your father about the night your mother died. Ask him who was in the car.*
I felt my heartbeat in my throat.
I showed Winnie.
Her face went pale.
“What?””
She pointed at the message.
“Your mother died in a car accident, right?””
“Yes.””
“But nobody ever told you who was with her.””
I froze.
I suddenly remembered.
The funeral.
The police officers.
The conversations between adults that stopped whenever I entered the room.
The way everyone always said the same thing.
“It was a tragic accident.””
Nobody ever explained the details.
Nobody ever told me where she was going.
Who she was meeting.
Why she was driving that night.
I had accepted the story because I was fourteen.
Because I was grieving.
Because I trusted my father.
Now that trust felt like a fragile piece of glass in my hands.
“I need to talk to him.””
Winnie grabbed my arm.
“James.””
I looked at her.
“Be careful.””
The warning sounded strange coming from her.
A few days ago, I thought she wanted me gone.
Now she was the only person in the house trying to help me.
“I need answers.””
“I know.””
She released my arm.
“But answers can hurt.””
I looked at the message again.
“They already do.””
My father was still in the study when I walked inside.
The room smelled like old books and coffee.
The same room where he had helped me with homework.
The same room where he had taught me how to fix broken things.
Now I wondered how many broken things he had hidden.
He looked up.
“You talked to Winnie.””
It wasn’t a question.
I closed the door.
“Yes.””
His face tightened.
“What did she tell you?””
I stared at him.
“That depends.””
“On what?””
“On whether you’re finally going to tell me the truth.””
He looked away.
That answer hurt more than anything.
“Dad.””
He stood.
“James, there are things you don’t understand.””
“Then explain them.””
“I’m trying to protect you.””
I laughed.
A bitter sound.
“Everyone keeps saying that.””
His expression changed.
“What?””
“Mom. Clara. Mark. You.””
I stepped closer.
“Everyone says they’re protecting me while they hide everything from me.””
My father sat down slowly.
“You deserve the truth.””
“Yes.””
“But you need to understand something first.””
“What?””
He looked at the floor.
“Your mother’s death wasn’t simple.””
My stomach tightened.
“Who was in the car?””
He went completely still.
And I knew.
I knew before he answered.
Because people don’t react like that to innocent questions.
“Dad.””
He closed his eyes.
“There was another person.””
My heart sank.
“Who?””
Silence.
“Who was in the car?””
Finally, he whispered:
“Clara.””
I couldn’t move.
“What?””
“Your mother wasn’t alone.””
“Clara was there?””
“Yes.””
I stared at him.
“Then why didn’t you tell me?””
“Because Clara survived.””
“That doesn’t answer my question.””
My father looked at me.
“Because she told me not to.””
I felt anger explode inside me.
“She told you?””
“She said you were too young.””
“She decided?””
“No.””
My father’s voice broke.
“I did.””
The room went silent.
I turned away.
I didn’t know what emotion I was feeling anymore.
Anger.
Pain.
Confusion.
All of it mixed together.
“You let me believe my mother died alone.””
“I thought I was protecting you.””
“You keep saying that.””
“Because I thought knowing the truth would destroy you.””
I looked back at him.
“And hiding it didn’t?””
He had no answer.
I took out my phone.
I placed the message on the desk.
“Someone just threatened me.””
His eyes changed.
“Who sent this?””
“Mark.””
My father picked up the phone.
His face became serious.
“You need to block this number.””
“No.””
“James.””
“No.””
I pulled the phone back.
“I’m done doing what everyone tells me.””
He stared at me.
For a moment, I saw pride.
Then fear replaced it.
“You don’t understand.””
“Then make me understand.””
He walked to the window.
“When your mother died, she wasn’t investigating money.””
I froze.
“What?””
He turned around.
“She was investigating Clara.””
My breathing stopped.
“What did Clara do?””
My father looked like he had been carrying this sentence for years.
“She found out Clara had been meeting someone behind my back.””
“Who?””
He didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
The answer was already standing in my mind.
Mark.
My father continued.
“Your mother thought Clara and Mark were working together.””
“For what?””
He looked at me.
“For control.””
I frowned.
“Control of what?””
My father’s voice became barely audible.
“The company.””
The room spun.
“What company?””
He looked at the old family photos on the shelf.
The photos of us.
Before everything fell apart.
“Mine.””
I stared.
“Your company?””
He nodded.
“Before your mother died, she discovered Clara had been trying to gain access to everything I owned.””
I thought about Clara.
Her calm face.
Her patience.
Her careful words.
“She married you for money.””
My father didn’t answer.
But he didn’t deny it.
Then suddenly, the study door opened.
We both turned.
Clara stood there.
I didn’t know how long she had been listening.
But from the look on her face, it had been long enough.
She looked at my father.
Then at me.
Then she smiled.
A cold, empty smile.
“Finally.””
Nobody spoke.
Clara stepped inside.
“Finally, after all these years, Daniel decided to tell you something.””
My father moved toward her.
“Clara, don’t.””
She ignored him.
She looked directly at me.
“You want the truth about your mother?””
My hands clenched.
“Yes.””
She nodded slowly.
“Then you should know something.””
She reached into her purse.
Pulled out a small envelope.
And placed it on the desk.
“This is the evidence your mother found the night she died.””
My eyes locked onto it.
“What is it?””
Clara smiled.
“The reason she stopped trusting your father.””
I looked at my father.
His face had gone completely pale.
And then Clara said the words that shattered everything I thought I knew.
“Because your mother didn’t discover Daniel was stealing money.””
May you like
She paused.
“She discovered he was trying to hide who your real father was.””
