Chapter 3 - THE WORKSHOP
My father's workshop had been locked for eighteen years.
Nobody had entered since his death.
Mom had always refused to let anyone touch it.
We drove there before noon.
The building stood behind an old farmhouse.
Dust covered the windows.
The door was rusted.
Arthur broke the old lock.
Inside, everything smelled like wood and oil.
My father's tools were still hanging on the wall.
His old desk remained exactly where he had left it.
Mom walked slowly inside.
She touched the desk.
“He spent every night here.”
I looked around.
“What are we searching for?”
“The deed.”
“Where would he hide it?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Then I remembered something.
Dad used to tell me:
“Never look for the important thing where everyone expects it.”
I looked at the walls.
Then the floor.
Then the ceiling.
My eyes stopped at an old wooden cabinet.
I pulled it open.
Nothing.
I moved the shelves.
Still nothing.
Then I noticed a loose floorboard.
I pulled it up.
There was a metal box beneath it.
Mom gasped.
“That was his.”
I opened it.
Inside was the original property deed.
But there was something else.
A small cassette recorder.
And a letter.
I pressed the recorder.
My father's voice filled the workshop.
“If you're hearing this, something has gone wrong.”
Mom began crying.
Dad continued.
“Thomas Reed cannot be trusted.”
I looked at Mom.
“He knew?”
“Yes.”
The recording continued.
“Thomas has been stealing from the company for years.”
I froze.
Dad had known.
“He has convinced people that I am responsible.”
A second voice appeared.
Thomas.
“Give me the property rights.”
My father's voice answered:
“No.”
Then came a sound of struggle.
The recording stopped.
My heart raced.
“That's it?”
“No,” Mom whispered.
She pointed to the cassette.
“There is another side.”
I turned it over.
The second recording began.
Thomas's voice was clearer.
“You think your son is safe?”
My father's voice answered:
“Stay away from him.”
Thomas laughed.
“You're going to lose everything.”
Then Dad said:
“You'll never get the deed.”
Thomas answered:
“I don't need the deed.”
A pause.
“I only need your wife.”
Mom covered her mouth.
The recording ended.
Nobody spoke.
Then I heard something outside.
A car.
Arthur moved toward the window.
“Someone's here.”
A black SUV stopped near the workshop.
Two men stepped out.
Arthur drew his weapon.
“Stay inside.”
The men approached.
One shouted:
“Give us the box!”
I looked at Mom.
She was trembling.
I took the deed.
Then I noticed something strange.
The deed wasn't the real secret.
Attached to it was another document.
A trust agreement.
The beneficiary wasn't my mother.
It wasn't me.
It was the Carter Children's Foundation.
My father had transferred the land years ago.
Thomas couldn't legally own it.
But the foundation could.
That was why he needed the deed.
He wanted to destroy the foundation's legal protection before anyone discovered the truth.
Then my phone rang.
Vanessa.
I answered.
Her voice was barely audible.
“Ethan.”
“Where are you?”
“I don't know.”
“Who are you with?”
“Thomas.”
I froze.
“Is he threatening you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He knows I was going to leave.”
“Where are you?”
She whispered an address.
Then the line went dead.
I looked at Arthur.
“We're going.”
He shook his head.
“It's a trap.”
“I know.”
“Then why go?”
I looked at my mother.
“Because whatever Vanessa did, she knows where Thomas is.”
Arthur sighed.
“Then we're bringing the police.”
We left the workshop.
But before I closed the door, I looked back at my father's desk.
Something was written beneath it.
A sentence in his handwriting.
The person you trust last may be the one who saves you.
I didn't understand it.
Not yet.
But when we reached the warehouse where Vanessa was being held, I finally did.
Because Vanessa wasn't alone.
Standing beside her was a woman I had never expected to see again.
My father's former secretary.
And she was holding a photograph of my father.
May you like
She looked at me and said:
“Your father never died the way they told you.”
