Chapter 11 - THE MAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD
I stared at my father.
“You never found his body?”
“No.”
“Then why did you tell everyone he was dead?”
“Because the mission report said he was killed.”
“By whom?”
My father looked at the floor.
“Me.”
I felt anger rise inside me.
“You signed a death report for a man whose body you never found?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was ordered to.”
“By whom?”
My father didn't answer.
I laughed.
“Of course.”
He looked at me.
“Emily, I believed Michael had betrayed us.”
“And now?”
“Now I know he was framed.”
“By who?”
My father looked toward the letter.
“Someone who has been waiting for twenty-eight years.”
I felt cold.
“Why send the letter now?”
“Because Evan’s trial exposed the old operation.”
“And Michael?”
“He was part of it.”
I looked at Lily.
“What does this have to do with my daughter?”
My father’s face changed.
“Everything.”
That night, Daniel stayed with us.
Not because I asked him to.
Because my father insisted.
I didn't sleep.
Every sound made me turn toward the door.
At 3:17 in the morning, the security alarm went off.
Daniel was already moving.
He reached my bedroom before I did.
“Stay here.”
I held Lily.
“Who is it?”
He looked at the monitor.
“No one.”
“What?”
The camera showed the backyard.
Empty.
Then the screen flickered.
A figure appeared.
Standing beside the fence.
A man.
Older.
Gray-haired.
Wearing a dark coat.
I stared at the screen.
My breath stopped.
I knew that face.
Not from memory.
From a photograph.
A photograph my mother had hidden in a box.
A photograph of a young soldier.
A photograph labeled:
Michael.
The man on the screen looked directly into the camera.
Then he disappeared.
Daniel grabbed his weapon.
I screamed:
“Don't!”
He looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because that's my father.”
We ran outside.
The backyard was empty.
But there was something on the ground.
A photograph.
I picked it up.
It showed my mother.
Young.
Pregnant.
Standing beside Michael.
On the back was a date.
The date of my birth.
And beneath it:
SHE KNOWS THE TRUTH.
My mother.
I called her.
She didn't answer.
I called again.
Nothing.
My father arrived within minutes.
He saw the photograph.
His face turned white.
“Where did you get this?”
“It was left in my yard.”
He stared at it.
Then he said:
“We have to find your mother.”
We drove through the night.
When we reached her house, the front door was open.
The living room was empty.
A chair was overturned.
There was blood on the floor.
My father immediately drew his weapon.
“Search the house.”
I stood frozen.
“Mom?”
No answer.
Then we heard a noise from the basement.
We found her tied to a chair.
She was alive.
But badly beaten.
I ran toward her.
“Mom!”
She looked at me.
Then at Lily.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“He came.”
“Who?”
She whispered:
“Michael.”
I froze.
“Why?”
My mother began crying.
“Because he knows the truth.”
“What truth?”
She looked at my father.
“Tell her.”
My father stood silent.
My mother continued:
“Michael did not die.”
I already knew.
“What else?”
She closed her eyes.
“Michael was not your biological father.”
The room became silent.
I stared at her.
“What?”
She looked at Lily.
“You were born from a lie.”
I felt sick.
“Who is my biological father?”
My mother looked at my father.
Then she whispered:
“Your father knows.”
My father turned away.
I stared at him.
“Who?”
He didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
“Who is my biological father?”
My father finally looked at me.
And said a name I had never heard before.
“Thomas Vale.”
My mother began screaming.
“No!”
Everyone froze.
My father stared at her.
“What?”
My mother was shaking.
“Thomas is dead.”
My father looked at her.
“Not according to Michael.”
Then a voice came from the basement stairs.
“No.”
We turned.
A man stood in the darkness.
Older.
Scarred.
But unmistakable.
Michael.
He looked at me.
May you like
And said:
“Thomas Vale was never your father.”
