Chapter 2: The Secret Behind My Father's Death
“Your uncle was involved.””
The words landed harder than any accusation I had ever heard.
I stood beside the pool, the recording still playing in my hand, but I couldn’t hear anything anymore.
Not the wind.
Not the guards talking quietly behind me.
Not the sound of the fountain spilling water into the pool where my mother had almost died.
Only that one sentence.
Your uncle was involved.
My mother lowered her eyes.
“Adrian…”
I stared at her.
“Say it again.””
Her lips trembled.
“I didn’t want you to find out this way.””
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because my entire life had just cracked open, and somehow my mother was worried about the way I discovered the truth.
“My father died twelve years ago,” I said slowly.
“A car accident.””
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.””
“And now you’re telling me it wasn’t an accident?””
A tear rolled down her cheek.
“I’m telling you that I never knew the whole truth.””
I looked toward the garden path where Selena had disappeared.
My anger wanted to chase her.
My instincts wanted to find the man on the recording.
But something kept me standing there.
Something about my mother’s face.
She looked less like someone hiding a secret.
She looked like someone who had carried one for too long.
“Come inside,” I said.
My voice sounded unfamiliar.
Cold.
My mother nodded.
The guards followed us into the mansion, but I dismissed them near the entrance.
“Give us privacy.””
They left immediately.
The house felt different.
It was the same place where I had grown up.
Same paintings.
Same marble floors.
Same grand staircase where my father used to carry me on his shoulders when I was eight years old.
But suddenly, every memory felt like it belonged to someone else.
My mother sat in the living room, wrapped in a blanket.
I stood by the window.
“Start from the beginning.””
She looked at me.
“Adrian…”
“Please.””
That single word broke something in her.
She took a deep breath.
“Your father did not trust your uncle Marcus.””
I frowned.
“Uncle Marcus?””
My father’s younger brother.
The man who attended every family event.
The man who gave speeches at my father’s funeral.
The man who hugged me afterward and promised he would always protect me.
“He was your father’s business partner,” my mother said.
“But they started fighting before the accident.””
“About what?””
“The company.””
I turned around.
“My father owned everything.””
“Yes. But Marcus believed he deserved more.””
My mother’s hands tightened around the blanket.
“Your father discovered money had been moved from company accounts. Millions of dollars.””
I felt my jaw tighten.
“Did he confront him?””
“Yes.””
“And then he died.””
My mother looked away.
The silence answered before she did.
“Mom.””
She wiped her eyes.
“The night before the accident, your father called me. He told me something was wrong.””
“What did he say?””
She swallowed.
“He said, ‘If anything happens to me, protect Adrian.’”
My chest tightened.
Those words.
The last words of a man who knew something was coming.
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
“Because you were eighteen.””
“I was old enough.””
“You were barely surviving his death.””
Her voice became softer.
“You stopped eating. You stopped talking. You blamed yourself because you asked him to come home early that night.””
I looked away.
Because she was right.
I remembered that night.
I remembered calling my father.
I remembered telling him I missed him.
I remembered him laughing and promising he would be home soon.
He never came home.
My mother continued.
“After the funeral, Marcus came to me.””
“What did he want?””
“He wanted me to sell my shares in the company.””
I turned back.
“Why?””
“He said I couldn’t manage it alone.””
I laughed bitterly.
“That sounds like him.””
My mother nodded.
“But I refused.””
A small flash of pride appeared in her eyes.
“My husband built that company. I wasn’t going to hand it over.””
“What happened next?””
She looked down.
“That’s when the threats started.””
The room became silent.
“Threats?””
“Anonymous messages. Strange calls. People following me.””
I stepped closer.
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
“Because I was afraid.””
My expression softened.
Not because I forgave her.
Not yet.
But because I finally understood how alone she had been.
“Afraid of Marcus?””
She nodded.
“And afraid that if I told you, you would try to fight him.””
She looked directly at me.
“You have your father’s heart, Adrian. You see someone hurting people, and you run toward the fire.””
I didn’t answer.
Because I knew she was right.
My phone buzzed.
The sound cut through the room.
I looked down.
Unknown number.
One message.
*You should have stayed in New York.*
My blood went cold.
I showed my mother.
Her face changed instantly.
“Delete it.””
“No.””
“Adrian, listen to me.””
“Someone tried to kill you.””
Her voice dropped.
“Someone tried to warn me.””
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?””
Before she could answer, another message appeared.
*Ask your mother what happened at the old warehouse.*
I looked at her.
“Warehouse?””
She went completely still.
That reaction told me everything.
“You know what they’re talking about.””
She didn’t respond.
“Mom.””
Her hands began shaking.
“There was one night…”
She stopped.
A knock came from the front door.
Both of us froze.
Nobody visited without security approval.
Nobody.
I moved toward the entrance.
“Stay here.””
My mother grabbed my arm.
“No.””
I looked at her.
Fear filled her eyes.
“Adrian, whoever sent that message wants you angry. They want you to make a mistake.””
“Someone attacked you.””
“I know.””
Her voice broke.
“But please.””
She released my arm.
“Be smarter than your father.””
The words hurt.
Because they were the exact words she had probably repeated to herself for twelve years.
I walked to the front door.
The security monitor showed a man standing outside.
Older.
Gray hair.
Expensive suit.
A face I had not seen in years.
But one I would never forget.
My uncle Marcus.
The same man who hugged me at my father’s funeral.
The same man who told me we were family.
I opened the door.
He looked surprised.
“Adrian?””
I stared at him.
“Uncle Marcus.””
His eyes moved past me.
Toward the living room.
Toward my mother.
Then he forced a smile.
“I heard there was an incident.””
“Did you?””
His smile faded slightly.
“What does that mean?””
“It means you seem to know a lot about what happens in this house.””
Marcus looked at me carefully.
For a moment, I saw something behind his calm expression.
Not sadness.
Not concern.
Calculation.
“I came here because I’m worried about you.””
“Why?””
He hesitated.
“Because Selena is dangerous.””
I almost smiled.
“You know Selena?””
The pause was too long.
Just half a second.
But it was enough.
“Yes,” he said.
“From where?””
“I’ve met her before.””
“Before she met me?””
Marcus looked away.
That was the answer.
My hands curled into fists.
“You knew about her.””
“No.””
“You knew who she was.””
“Adrian—”
“Did you send her?””
His face hardened.
“Be careful with your accusations.””
“Did you help her?””
Marcus stepped closer.
His voice became quiet.
“Your father asked too many questions.””
The room went silent.
I stared at him.
“What did you just say?””
Marcus immediately realized his mistake.
But it was too late.
He looked toward my mother.
Then back at me.
“I didn’t mean—”
“You did.””
My voice dropped.
“You know something about my father’s death.””
Marcus said nothing.
That silence was louder than any confession.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
And for the first time, real fear crossed his face.
He answered.
“What?””
A pause.
Then his expression changed.
“No. That’s impossible.””
I watched him carefully.
“Where?””
Another pause.
Marcus looked at me.
And whispered something that made my entire body go cold.
“The missing file was found.””
I stepped closer.
“What file?””
Marcus ended the call.
But before he could hide his reaction, I saw the name on his phone screen.
The caller.
The person who had contacted him.
The person who was apparently controlling everything.
It was not Selena.
It was not some stranger.
It was someone whose name I had seen thousands of times.
Someone whose signature appeared on every major document in my company.
My own father’s name.
Except my father had been dead for twelve years.
May you like
And according to Marcus…
The file proving he was still alive had just been found.
