Chapter 5: My Father Revealed The Truth About Our Entire Marriage
Chapter 5: My Father Revealed The Truth About Our Entire Marriage
“Too late.”
The whisper came from directly behind me.
I spun around.
Nobody was there.
Only darkness.
Then the streetlights flickered back on.
Michael was lying on the pavement, one hand pressed against his shoulder. Blood soaked through his fingers.
Rachel was crouched beside him.
Laura was standing several feet away, frozen.
And at the end of the street stood my father.
Alive.
Older than I remembered.
His hair was almost completely gray, his face thinner, and a long scar ran from his left temple toward his jaw.
But there was no mistaking him.
My father.
The man I had buried six years ago.
I walked toward him.
“Dad?”
He didn’t move.
“Stay where you are.”
I stopped.
“You’re alive.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I had to be.”
I looked back at Laura.
Then Rachel.
Then Michael.
Everyone seemed to know something except me.
I was done being the last person to understand my own life.
“You’re going to tell me everything.”
My father nodded.
“Yes.”
“Right now.”
“Yes.”
“Starting with my wife.”
He looked at Laura.
“She isn’t your wife.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“I already know that.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“You don’t.”
“What don’t I know?”
He took a step forward.
“The woman you have been living with for six years isn’t Laura.”
I looked at the woman beside the car.
She shook her head.
“Daniel, please.”
My father continued.
“She isn’t Rachel either.”
I stared at him.
“Then who is she?”
My father looked directly at the woman I had called my wife.
“She is Emma.”
The woman started crying.
I didn’t recognize the name.
“Who is Emma?”
My father didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he looked at me.
“Your brother’s wife.”
Silence.
I laughed.
“I don’t have a brother.”
My father’s face changed.
“You did.”
The photograph suddenly made sense.
Two boys.
Two sons.
One inheritance.
But I still couldn’t understand the woman standing in front of me.
“What happened to him?”
“He died.”
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
The same year my father supposedly died.
The same year my marriage had begun.
I felt sick.
“Are you telling me my wife was married to my dead brother?”
“No.”
He looked at Emma.
“She was engaged to him.”
Emma wiped her face.
“Your father is telling the truth.”
I stared at her.
“Why did you marry me?”
“I didn’t.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“I never married you.”
I looked at her.
“We had a wedding.”
“Yes.”
“We signed papers.”
“Yes.”
“You lived with me.”
“Yes.”
“Then what was it?”
She lowered her head.
“A performance.”
My father stepped closer.
“Your brother had discovered the truth about my business.”
“What truth?”
“He discovered that Richard Cole had been stealing from the company for years.”
I looked at Michael.
“He was helping your father investigate.”
My father nodded.
“Then Richard found out.”
“And killed him?”
“We believe so.”
“Believe?”
“We never found enough evidence.”
I looked at Emma.
“Where does she fit into this?”
My father answered.
“Emma was the only person who knew where your brother had hidden the evidence.”
I looked at her.
“And you thought I knew?”
She nodded.
“Richard believed you did.”
“So you married me to find it?”
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“I stayed with you because I was supposed to protect you.”
I shook my head.
“You lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“You pretended to be someone else.”
“Yes.”
“You watched me sleep beside you for six years.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Yes.”
“And you never loved me?”
She looked at me.
“That was the one part I couldn’t fake.”
I couldn’t answer.
My father turned toward Rachel.
“And you.”
Rachel’s expression hardened.
“What about me?”
“You were supposed to be dead.”
Rachel smiled bitterly.
“So were you.”
My father nodded.
“I know.”
I looked between them.
“Why were you both hiding?”
Rachel answered.
“Because Richard wasn’t working alone.”
“Who else?”
She looked at my father.
He didn’t speak.
“Your mother,” Rachel said.
I stared at her.
“My mother is dead.”
“No.”
My father finally spoke.
“Your mother is the person who ordered your brother’s death.”
My knees weakened.
“No.”
“She wanted control of the trust.”
“What trust?”
My father looked at me.
“The one your grandfather left behind.”
I shook my head.
“I don’t have a trust.”
“You do.”
“How much?”
He hesitated.
“Enough to destroy everyone who has been chasing you.”
I looked at Emma.
“So that’s why they came after me.”
“Yes.”
“That’s why my identity was changed.”
“Yes.”
“That’s why you disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“That’s why she married me.”
Emma nodded.
“And that’s why someone has been following us.”
My father looked toward the road.
“Yes.”
A car engine suddenly started.
Everyone turned.
The black SUV that had been following us was gone.
My father looked at Michael.
“Did you get the file?”
Michael slowly reached into his jacket.
He pulled out a small flash drive.
“I got it.”
My father took it.
Then he handed it to me.
“This is everything.”
I stared at the tiny device.
“Everything?”
“The financial records. The identity changes. The payments. The names.”
I closed my fingers around it.
“And the truth about my brother?”
“Yes.”
I looked at Emma.
“Was he really killed?”
She nodded.
“I saw him the night he died.”
“What happened?”
“He gave me the evidence.”
“And then?”
“He told me to run.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I went back for him.”
She started crying.
“I found him on the floor.”
The words hit me harder than I expected.
“What did he say?”
Emma looked at me.
“He thought you were going to be next.”
“Me?”
“He knew your father had changed your identity.”
“Why would that matter?”
“Because Richard didn’t know which son had inherited the trust.”
I looked at my father.
“You mean…”
He nodded.
“He thought one of my sons was still alive.”
“And he couldn’t tell which one.”
“No.”
I looked at the photograph again.
Two boys.
One dead.
One alive.
But there was something I hadn’t noticed before.
A tiny mark on the back.
I turned the photograph over.
There was another sentence beneath my father’s handwriting.
The wrong son survived.
My heart stopped.
I looked at my father.
“What does that mean?”
He didn’t answer.
Emma suddenly grabbed my arm.
“Daniel.”
I looked at her.
She was staring at my father.
“He knows.”
My father lowered his eyes.
“What?”
Emma whispered:
“Your father knows you aren’t his son.”
Nobody moved.
Then my father finally said the words that destroyed the last piece of my identity.
“Daniel Carter died six years ago.”
I stared at him.
“And you…”
He looked directly into my eyes.
“You are the other son.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“The son Richard has been searching for.”
Then my phone vibrated.
One new message.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
There was a photograph.
My childhood.
My father.
My mother.
And me.
But written across the bottom were six words:
We know who you really are.
Then another message appeared.
And your wife isn’t Emma.
I looked at the woman standing beside me.
She was crying.
My father suddenly raised his gun.
Not toward the street.
Not toward Rachel.
Not toward Michael.
Toward her.
“Step away from my son.”
Emma froze.
And for the first time that night, she smiled.
“Finally.”
She reached behind her back.
“Someone remembered who I am.”
