Chapter 10: The Call From the Dead
The phone kept ringing.
The name on the screen remained impossible.
*Dad.*
I stared at it.
My mind searched for an explanation.
A glitch.
A mistake.
A cruel joke.
Anything except the truth.
Claire’s hand shook as she held the phone.
“Daniel…”
I looked at her.
“How?””
She couldn’t answer.
The ringtone echoed through the restaurant.
People at nearby tables glanced over.
A stranger’s phone ringing shouldn’t have felt terrifying.
But this wasn’t a normal call.
My father had been buried seven years ago.
I watched his coffin lowered into the ground.
I stood beside my mother as everyone told me how sorry they were.
I had held the paperwork.
I had signed the documents.
My father was gone.
Yet his name was glowing on Claire’s screen.
Finally, the call stopped.
The silence afterward was worse.
“Call it back,” I said.
Claire looked at me.
“What?””
“Call it back.””
Her face turned pale.
“Daniel, I don’t think—”
“Call it.””
She hesitated.
Then pressed the number.
The call connected.
For three seconds, nobody spoke.
Then a voice answered.
“Claire.””
I stopped breathing.
I knew that voice.
Older.
Weaker.
But unmistakable.
My father.
I grabbed the phone.
“Who is this?””
Silence.
Then:
“Daniel?””
My entire body froze.
Nobody had said my name that way since the day before his funeral.
“Dad?””
Claire covered her mouth.
The voice on the other end became quiet.
“You’re alive.””
The words made no sense.
“I’m alive?””
A long pause.
Then my father whispered:
“I thought I lost you too.””
I stood there in the restaurant, surrounded by strangers, unable to understand the world anymore.
“Where are you?””
No answer.
“Dad, where are you?””
The line crackled.
Then he said:
“Don’t trust Claire.””
My eyes moved toward her.
She looked devastated.
“Dad—”
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
My hands were shaking.
Claire reached toward me.
“Daniel, listen.””
I moved away.
“No.””
“Please.””
“No.””
Because suddenly every possibility existed.
Every lie.
Every person I trusted.
Every memory.
Nothing felt real anymore.
I left the restaurant without another word.
Claire followed me outside.
“Daniel!””
I stopped near my car.
She looked desperate.
“I know how this looks.””
I laughed.
“How does it look?””
She had no answer.
“My dead father just called your phone.””
“I know.””
“You knew?””
Her face changed.
A mistake.
A tiny one.
But I saw it.
“You knew this could happen.””
She looked away.
And that was enough.
“What are you hiding?””
She swallowed.
“I found out six months ago.””
My heart dropped.
“Six months?””
“Yes.””
“You knew my father was alive?””
She closed her eyes.
“Not exactly.””
“Then explain.””
She looked at me.
“I found evidence that someone had helped him disappear.””
“Who?””
“I don’t know.””
“You’re lying.””
“I’m not.””
“Claire, everyone keeps saying they’re protecting me while hiding everything from me.””
My voice broke.
“I’m tired of being the only person who doesn’t know what’s happening in my own life.””
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then she whispered:
“Your father disappeared because he discovered something.””
“What?””
“Something connected to Marcus.””
I thought about the documents.
The company transfer.
The fraud.
The accident.
“How did you find him?””
“I didn’t.””
“Then who did?””
Claire looked at me.
“Your father contacted me.””
I froze.
“When?””
“After your accident.””
The world went quiet.
“He was watching?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because he believed someone would try to kill you.””
I stared at her.
“And he was right.””
She nodded.
Tears filled her eyes.
“Daniel, I know I ruined everything. I know I hurt you. But Marcus is more dangerous than you understand.””
I looked away.
“You helped him.””
“I know.””
“You chose him.””
“I know.””
Her voice cracked.
“But I never wanted you dead.””
I didn’t answer.
Because I still didn’t know if I believed her.
That night, I returned to the apartment Ethan had arranged for me.
I didn’t sleep.
I sat at the table with the documents spread out in front of me.
My father’s handwriting.
My father’s signature.
His secret plan.
At 3:00 a.m., my phone received a message.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
There was a photo.
A man standing outside a building.
An old man.
Gray hair.
A familiar face.
My father.
The caption underneath said:
*“If you want the truth, come alone.””*
I stared at the picture.
Then another message arrived.
*“Don’t tell Ethan.””*
My blood ran cold.
May you like
Because whoever sent it knew Ethan.
And whoever sent it knew exactly what I was doing.