Chapter 6: The Man Who Was Never Gone
The power came back three minutes later.
But something inside me stayed dark.
I sat in the hospital chair staring at the frozen image on the tablet.
A hand.
A silver ring.
A black stone.
A memory I had spent eight years burying.
My father.
Everyone had told me he was gone.
Not dead.
Not missing.
Just gone.
That was the word people used when they didn’t want to explain something.
Gone.
Like people could disappear from your life as easily as a dropped receipt blowing away in the wind.
But now Thomas Vale was looking at me like I had just uncovered something impossible.
“You knew my father,” I said.
It wasn’t a question.
Thomas looked away.
“Yes.””
The answer hurt more than I expected.
I laughed softly.
“How many people knew?””
Nobody answered.
I stood.
“My entire life was a lie.””
“Maren—”
“No.””
I looked at Thomas.
Then at the empty doorway where Daniel had disappeared.
“No more.””
My voice shook.
“I need someone to tell me the truth.””
Thomas lowered his eyes.
“I understand.””
“Do you?””
“Yes.””
“No, you don’t.””
I stepped closer.
“You had eight years.””
The words came out sharper than I intended.
“You had eight years to tell me my mother didn’t abandon me.””
Thomas closed his eyes.
“You’re right.””
“You had eight years to tell me someone threatened her.””
“Yes.””
“You had eight years to tell me my father was alive.””
His expression changed.
“I don’t know if he is.””
I stared at him.
“You just said he wasn’t supposed to be alive.””
“I said he wasn’t supposed to be alive according to what we knew.””
“That’s not an answer.””
“No.””
He looked at me.
“Because the truth is, after that night, nobody knew where he went.””
I felt exhausted.
Not physically.
Something deeper.
Like my mind had been running for days without stopping.
“Tell me about him.””
Thomas was quiet.
Then:
“His name was Richard Holt.””
The name sounded strange.
Because I had heard it before.
But only from old documents.
Old memories.
A man who existed more like a shadow than a person.
“My father.””
Thomas nodded.
“He worked with Evelyn.””
“At Vale Financial?””
“Yes.””
“Was he involved?””
Thomas looked at me carefully.
“In what?””
“You know what.””
The money.
The fraud.
The secrets.
Thomas sighed.
“Richard was complicated.””
I hated that word.
Complicated.
People used it when they didn’t want to say something ugly.
“He was either good or bad.””
“No.””
Thomas shook his head.
“Sometimes people are both.””
I looked away.
That answer felt too familiar.
Because everyone in this story seemed to be carrying some kind of guilt.
Everyone except me.
I was the person left behind.
The person nobody trusted with the truth.
“What happened between my parents?””
Thomas looked toward the window.
“Your father discovered what Evelyn was investigating.””
“And?””
“He wanted her to stop.””
“Why?””
“Because he knew how dangerous it was.””
“That sounds like he was protecting her.””
Thomas didn’t answer.
“That’s what you think?””
“I think he was afraid.””
“Of what?””
“Of losing everything.””
I crossed my arms.
“And did he?””
Thomas looked at me.
“Yes.””
The answer was quiet.
“He lost everything.””
The room fell silent.
A nurse walked past the open door.
Neither of us spoke until she disappeared.
Then Thomas leaned forward.
“Your mother came to my office the night before she vanished.””
“What happened?””
“She brought documents.””
“What documents?””
“Proof.””
“Of what?””
“Everything.””
He looked at me.
“The names. The accounts. The people involved.””
“Your company.””
“Yes.””
“Who was on the list?””
Thomas’s jaw tightened.
“I never saw the full list.””
“Why?””
“Because Evelyn hid it.””
“Where?””
“I don’t know.””
I almost smiled.
Another mystery.
Another missing piece.
“She trusted you enough to bring proof but not enough to tell you where it was?””
Thomas looked ashamed.
“She trusted me with many things.””
The way he said it made me pause.
“You loved her.””
His eyes moved to mine.
For several seconds, he didn’t answer.
Then:
“Yes.””
The honesty surprised me.
“My father knew?””
Thomas looked away.
“Yes.””
“And?””
“He was angry.””
“Because you loved her?””
“No.””
Thomas’s voice became quieter.
“Because he knew she trusted me.””
I sat down.
“So my father was jealous.””
“I don’t know.””
“You keep saying that.””
“Because I refuse to invent answers.””
That was the first thing Thomas had said that sounded like the truth.
“I need to know something.””
“What?””
“Why did my father disappear?””
Thomas’s face changed.
“Because someone told him Evelyn was dead.””
I froze.
“What?””
“He believed she had been killed.””
“But she wasn’t.””
“No.””
“Then why would someone tell him that?””
Thomas looked at me.
“To make him run.””
The pieces moved.
Slowly.
Painfully.
“Who?””
“I don’t know.””
“Thomas.””
“I don’t.””
He looked frustrated.
“With all the money and power involved, people think secrets are protected by walls.””
A bitter smile appeared.
“They’re not.””
“Then what protects them?””
“Fear.””
The word hung between us.
My phone buzzed.
I looked down.
Unknown number.
Again.
This time, I answered immediately.
“Who are you?””
Silence.
Then a man’s voice.
Not Claire.
Not Daniel.
Someone older.
“Maren.””
My entire body froze.
Because I knew that voice.
Not from recent memory.
From childhood.
From dreams.
From the small pieces of my past I couldn’t erase.
“Dad?””
The line went silent.
Thomas stood.
“Maren.””
I ignored him.
My hand shook.
“Dad?””
The man breathed.
“I didn’t think they would let you find out.””
My eyes filled.
Eight years.
Eight years of anger.
Eight years of wondering.
And now his voice was on the other end of the phone.
“You’re alive.””
A pause.
“Yes.””
I sat down slowly.
“Where are you?””
“I can’t tell you.””
I almost laughed.
Of course.
Another secret.
Another person refusing to answer.
“You don’t get to do that.””
“Maren—”
“No.””
My voice broke.
“You don’t get to disappear and come back when it’s convenient.””
Silence.
Then softly:
“I know.””
The words hurt.
Because they sounded like regret.
“Why?””
The question escaped before I could stop it.
“Why did you leave?””
The line stayed quiet.
Then:
“Because staying would have gotten you killed.””
I closed my eyes.
Everyone kept saying that.
Protect.
Safe.
Danger.
But nobody explained.
“What happened that night?””
My father’s breathing changed.
Like the memory hurt.
“Your mother found out who was behind everything.””
“Who?””
“I can’t say.””
“Why?””
“Because they’re still watching.””
I looked toward the hospital door.
Thomas was staring at me.
“Dad.””
“Yes?””
“Are you the one who came to the hospital?””
Silence.
Too long.
My stomach tightened.
“Dad?””
“No.””
The answer came quickly.
“I didn’t know Thomas was alive.””
“Then who was wearing your ring?””
Another silence.
A dangerous one.
“What ring?””
“The silver ring with the black stone.””
I heard my father inhale sharply.
“Maren…”
“What?””
“Where did you see that?””
I looked at Thomas.
Then at the tablet.
“Someone entered Thomas’s room.””
My father’s voice changed.
Fear.
Real fear.
“Leave.””
“What?””
“Leave the hospital.””
“No.””
“Maren, listen to me.””
“No!””
My voice echoed.
“I am done running.””
There was silence.
Then my father said something that made my blood turn cold.
“Your mother didn’t disappear because she found the people stealing money.””
I stopped.
“Then why?””
“Because she found out who was helping them.””
I looked at Thomas.
At the tablet.
At the picture.
“Who?””
My father whispered:
“The person who raised you.””
The room went still.
I couldn’t speak.
“What?””
“Maren, listen carefully.””
“No.””
My hands shook.
“No, explain.””
“I’m sorry.””
“Dad.””
“I’m sorry I left you.””
“Who?””
The line crackled.
My father’s voice became distant.
“Your mother’s biggest mistake was trusting the wrong person.””
“Who?””
Then he said a name.
A name that shattered everything I thought I knew.
A name I had never expected.
A name that made Thomas step back when he heard it.
Because he recognized it too.
My father whispered:
“Your aunt.””
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
My entire childhood rearranged itself in one second.
My aunt.
The woman who took care of me after my mother disappeared.
The woman who told me I was stronger than I knew.
The woman who held me when I cried.
The woman who said:
“She chose to leave.””
Thomas looked at me.
His face was pale.
“Maren.””
I couldn’t hear him.
Because another memory had surfaced.
One I had forgotten.
A memory from the night my mother disappeared.
My aunt standing in the doorway.
My mother crying.
My father shouting.
And my aunt holding a small envelope.
The same kind of envelope Daniel had brought me.
My hands started shaking.
“No.””
Thomas stepped closer.
“What?””
I looked at him.
“My aunt had the letter.””
“What letter?””
“The letter my mother left.””
Thomas went completely still.
“Maren…”
“What?””
His voice dropped.
“Your mother only wrote one letter that night.””
I swallowed.
“And?””
Thomas stared at me.
“It wasn’t to Daniel.””
The room went silent.
“Then who was it to?””
Thomas looked terrified.
“Your aunt.””
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed.
A message.
From my aunt.
After eight years of silence.
Only four words.
*I know you found him.*
I stared at the screen.
May you like
Then another message appeared.
*We need to talk before Daniel tells you everything.*
