Chapter 3: The Video On Her Phone
I didn’t sleep that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my father’s handwriting.
Do not trust Claire.
Three words.
Three words that changed everything I believed about his death.
The next morning, Claire acted normal.
That scared me more than anything.
She walked into the kitchen wearing a white sweater and drinking coffee like she hadn’t spent years building a life with my father.
“Did you sleep?”” she asked.
“Not really.””
She nodded.
“Neither did I.””
I almost laughed.
Because she looked completely rested.
“Claire,” I said, “did Dad ever talk about changing his will?””
Her hand stopped halfway to her cup.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
“No.””
“You’re sure?””
She looked at me.
“Why would you ask that?””
“I found some documents.””
The color drained from her face.
Then she recovered.
“What documents?””
I watched her carefully.
“I’m still figuring that out.””
She put her cup down.
“Ethan, grief can make people paranoid.””
“Or grief can make people finally notice things.””
Her expression turned cold.
“Be careful accusing people without proof.””
That sentence stayed with me.
Because people who had nothing to hide usually wanted to prove their innocence.
They didn’t warn you.
After Claire left for the grocery store, I made a decision.
The message I received mentioned her phone.
I hated the idea of invading someone’s privacy.
But my father’s last words to me weren’t spoken.
They were written.
And they were a warning.
Claire had left her old phone charger in the bedroom.
I knew her passcode.
Not because I was spying.
Because Dad once asked me to help set up her phone.
Her password was the same one she used for everything.
My father’s birthday.
That alone made me uncomfortable.
I unlocked it.
At first, nothing seemed strange.
Photos.
Messages.
Emails.
Then I checked recently deleted videos.
One file caught my attention.
No name.
Just a date.
The date of my father’s accident.
My hands went cold.
I pressed play.
The video was dark.
It looked like it was recorded from inside a car.
Rain hit the windshield.
The road was familiar.
The same mountain road where Dad crashed.
Then I saw the vehicle ahead.
My father’s truck.
My heart stopped.
The video showed Dad’s car driving slowly through the storm.
Then another vehicle appeared behind him.
A black SUV.
Too close.
Following him.
I leaned closer.
The footage shook.
A woman’s voice whispered from behind the camera.
“Come on, Daniel…”
I froze.
I knew that voice.
Claire.
The video continued.
The SUV moved closer.
Then Claire said something that made my blood turn cold.
“He can’t tell him now.””
Him.
Who was “him”?
A few seconds later, the screen went black.
The video ended.
I dropped the phone onto the bed.
My hands were shaking.
Because Claire wasn’t watching a random video.
She had recorded my father moments before he died.
I heard the front door open.
“Ethan?””
Claire’s voice.
I shoved the phone back where I found it.
She walked upstairs.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
“You’re home early,” I said.
She looked at me.
Then looked at the phone on the bed.
My heart stopped.
“Were you going through my things?””
I didn’t answer.
Her face changed.
The innocent mask disappeared.
“You have no idea what you’re doing.””
I stood up.
“What happened to my father?””
For the first time since I knew her, Claire looked afraid.
Not angry.
Afraid.
May you like
Then she whispered:
“You really shouldn’t have watched that video.””