Chapter 5
I stared at Robert Mercer's name.
Underneath it, Dad had written a date.
June 17, 2011.
The next line said:
Robert offered me $75,000 to deliberately lose the championship game.
My fingers trembled.
I looked at Mom.
She pressed one hand against her mouth.
Arthur sat in the old chair beside the trunk.
His face looked gray.
"Daniel wrote it down," he whispered.
I turned another page.
Dad had listed the time.
The location.
The people present.
Then another sentence.
I refused. Robert said I'd regret making him look foolish.
My stomach tightened.
I looked at Arthur.
"Did you know?"
He closed his eyes.
"Yes."
Anger rushed through me.
"You knew he threatened Dad?"
Arthur nodded.
I stepped backward.
"And you did nothing?"
He looked at me.
"I tried to protect him."
I laughed bitterly.
"By staying quiet?"
His eyes filled.
"Malik, I made a terrible mistake."
I gripped the notebook.
"My father lost his career."
"I know."
"He lost everything he worked for."
Arthur lowered his head.
"I know."
My voice cracked.
"Then why didn't you help him?"
He looked up.
"Because Robert threatened my daughter."
I froze.
"What?"
Arthur wiped his eyes.
"My daughter was twenty-two. She had just started working as a sports journalist."
I stared at him.
"Robert told me he'd ruin her career if I supported Daniel."
I felt my anger shift into confusion.
"Did he really have that much power?"
Arthur nodded.
"He was connected to investors, team officials, and people who controlled opportunities."
Mom stepped closer.
"Arthur, Daniel needed you."
His face crumpled.
"I know, Angela."
She began crying.
"He trusted you."
Arthur looked at her.
"And I failed him."
Silence filled the storage unit.
I looked back at the notebook.
Dad had written page after page.
Names.
Amounts.
Conversations.
Meetings.
I turned to the final section.
There was a note dated several months before his death.
I have enough to prove what happened. I need to find someone who will listen.
My throat tightened.
Dad had never stopped trying.
Even after he left baseball.
Even after he started working construction.
Even after everyone believed he'd failed.
He'd kept gathering evidence.
I looked at Grace.
"Can this prove he was innocent?"
She took a careful breath.
"It could help. But we'll need to verify the records and find independent evidence."
I nodded.
"What else do we need?"
She examined the notebook.
"Documents. Witnesses. Financial records. Anything that supports what your father wrote."
Mom looked into the trunk.
"There's more."
She lifted a sealed envelope.
Across the front, Dad had written:
FOR ANGELA AND MALIK.
My heart stopped.
Mom held it carefully.
Her hands shook.
"Should we open it?"
I nodded.
She broke the seal.
Inside were three pages.
Dad's handwriting filled each one.
My beautiful Angela,
If you're reading this, it means I wasn't able to finish what I started.
I'm sorry.
I know how much this fight has cost our family.
You deserved a husband who came home without carrying so much worry.
And Malik deserved a father who could spend every afternoon playing baseball instead of working extra shifts.
But I need you to know something.
I never took Robert's money.
I never agreed to throw a game.
I never betrayed my teammates.
I made mistakes in my career, but dishonesty was not one of them.
I kept the notebook because I believed the truth would matter someday.
Maybe not to the people who hurt me.
But to our son.
Malik, if you're reading this, I want you to remember something.
Your worth is not decided by strangers.
It isn't decided by trophies, contracts, or applause.
If you love baseball, play it because it makes you happy.
Don't play to finish my dream.
Live your own.
And never let anyone convince you that your father's name is something to be ashamed of.
I love you both more than words can explain.
Dad.
I couldn't breathe.
Tears blurred the paper.
Mom pulled me close.
I held the letter against my chest.
For three years, I had wished I could hear Dad's voice one more time.
Now his words were right in front of me.
I cried until my chest hurt.
Arthur turned away.
Grace quietly stepped outside.
Mom held me.
"It's okay, baby."
I shook my head.
"I miss him."
"I know."
"I miss him so much."
She kissed my forehead.
"So do I."
After a while, I wiped my face.
Then I looked at the notebook again.
"Mom, we have to clear his name."
She nodded.
"We will."
Grace returned.
She had found additional papers in the trunk.
One was a copy of a bank record.
Another was a photograph of Robert speaking with an unidentified man.
Then she found a small flash drive.
She held it up.
"This may contain more information."
My heart pounded.
"Can we open it?"
"We'll make a forensic copy first so the original is preserved."
I nodded.
The next day, Grace contacted a digital forensic specialist.
The files were old.
Some were damaged.
But several could be recovered.
One contained an audio recording.
The voice was unmistakable.
Robert Mercer.
"Daniel, nobody needs to know about this."
Then my father's voice.
"I'm not taking your money."
I gripped the edge of the table.
Robert laughed.
"Don't be stupid."
Dad answered.
"I'd rather lose baseball than lose my integrity."
Tears filled my eyes.
Then Robert said something that made Grace lean forward.
"If you don't cooperate, I'll make sure nobody in this sport touches you again."
The recording ended.
Silence filled the room.
Grace looked at us.
"This is important."
I stared at her.
"Does it prove he was telling the truth?"
"It strongly supports his account of refusing the offer. We still need to authenticate it and investigate the surrounding events."
Mom nodded.
"Then do whatever you need to do."
Grace began contacting organizations connected to Dad's former team.
She also reached out to a journalist who specialized in sports corruption.
Within days, the story began attracting attention.
Then a video appeared online.
It showed Ethan Cole's challenge.
My two pitches.
The crowd erupting.
And Coach Arthur asking about my father.
The video had millions of views.
My phone wouldn't stop vibrating.
People were calling me talented.
A future superstar.
A miracle kid.
Some even called me the next Daniel Johnson.
I didn't know how to feel.
Part of me was excited.
But another part was terrified.
Because suddenly, everyone wanted something from me.
Reporters wanted interviews.
Brands wanted my picture.
Strangers wanted to meet me.
And Ethan Cole's representatives wanted to discuss the car.
Mom was overwhelmed.
Grace advised us not to sign anything without reviewing it.
Then one afternoon, a black SUV stopped outside our house.
A man stepped out.
He wore an expensive suit.
He approached our front door.
Mom opened it cautiously.
"Can I help you?"
The man smiled.
"Mrs. Johnson, my name is Victor Hayes."
I stood behind her.
He glanced at me.
"I'm here on behalf of Robert Mercer."
My stomach dropped.
Mom's face hardened.
"What do you want?"
Victor opened his briefcase.
Inside was a thick envelope.
He placed it on our porch railing.
"Mr. Mercer would like to resolve this misunderstanding privately."
Mom stared at him.
"What misunderstanding?"
Victor smiled.
"The allegations concerning your late husband."
I stepped forward.
"My dad didn't do anything wrong."
Victor looked at me.
"Of course, young man."
Then he turned back to Mom.
"Mr. Mercer is prepared to offer your family five hundred thousand dollars."
My heart stopped.
Mom stared at the envelope.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
May you like
Then Victor added the condition.
"In exchange, you agree to stop discussing the allegations publicly and turn over the original notebook."
