Chapter 8: The Father Who Never Left
The phone slipped slightly in my hand.
I stared at the screen.
Unknown number.
Unknown location.
But the voice…
There was no mistake.
It was him.
My father.
The man who taught me how to tie my shoes.
The man who carried me on his shoulders when I was a child.
The man whose funeral I attended.
Dead.
Except he wasn’t.
“Say something.””
His voice came through again.
I couldn’t.
My entire childhood was fighting against the reality in front of me.
“Ryan?””
I finally spoke.
“How?””
A long silence.
Then:
“You remember more than I expected.””
My anger exploded.
“You’re alive?””
“Yes.””
“You let me bury you.””
“Yes.””
“You let me believe you were gone.””
“Yes.””
Every answer was calm.
Like he was discussing the weather.
I looked around the room.
Everyone was watching me.
Caroline looked terrified.
Daniel looked furious.
Rachel looked exhausted.
They had all been running from this man.
And now he was calling me.
“Where are you?””
He ignored the question.
“Did you find Emma?””
I tightened my grip on the phone.
“You knew?””
“I knew you would eventually.””
My voice shook.
“You destroyed my life.””
“No.””
His response was immediate.
“I saved it.””
I almost laughed.
“You erased my memories.””
“Yes.””
“You took my daughter.””
Silence.
Then:
“I protected her.””
I looked at Emma.
She was holding Rachel’s hand.
Protected.
That was not what this looked like.
“You hid a child from her parents.””
“I hid her from people who wanted to use her.””
“Like you?””
The silence on the phone was longer this time.
That was the first time he sounded unsure.
“Ryan…”
“No.””
I walked away from the others.
“You don’t get to explain anymore.””
My voice became quieter.
“You don’t get to decide what I remember.””
A strange sadness entered his voice.
“You always were stubborn.””
The sentence hit me.
Because it sounded like my father.
The real one.
The one I missed.
That made it worse.
“Why?””
A pause.
“Because you found the truth.””
“What truth?””
“You found out what I was building.””
I looked at Dr. Miller.
“Memory control.””
“Yes.””
The simplicity of his answer made me sick.
“How many people?””
No answer.
“Dad.””
Finally:
“More than you know.””
My stomach dropped.
Caroline stepped closer.
“Ryan.””
I covered the phone.
“What?””
She looked at me.
“Don’t tell him where we are.””
I looked at her.
The fear in her eyes was real.
Not an act.
I put the phone back.
“Why should I trust you?””
My father answered.
“Because she already betrayed you once.””
Caroline looked down.
My father continued.
“She’s good at making people believe she’s sorry.””
I stared at Caroline.
Then at Rachel.
Then at Daniel.
Everyone had lied.
Everyone had hidden something.
But who was telling the truth?
My father spoke again.
“Come home, Ryan.””
I froze.
“What?””
“Come home.””
“I’m standing in my house.””
“No.””
His voice lowered.
“You’re standing in the house you built after forgetting who you were.””
My heart stopped.
“What does that mean?””
“You don’t remember choosing it.””
The walls around me suddenly felt unfamiliar.
My father continued.
“You didn’t choose Caroline.””
I looked at her.
“What?””
“You don’t remember because that was the point.””
The room became silent.
Caroline whispered:
“Ryan…”
I turned.
“What is he talking about?””
She didn’t answer.
My father laughed softly.
“Ask her.””
I looked at my wife.
“Did you know my father before we met?””
Her face changed.
Just enough.
“Yes.””
The answer hurt.
“Of course you did.””
“Ryan, please.””
“How?””
She swallowed.
“I worked for him.””
My chest tightened.
“So our whole relationship…”
“No.””
She stepped forward.
“That part was real.””
I didn’t know if I believed her.
My father’s voice came again.
“Everyone around you was chosen.””
I looked at the people in the room.
My family.
My enemies.
My forgotten past.
“You’re lying.””
“Am I?””
He paused.
“Ask yourself one question.””
“What?””
“Why do you have no memories before Lily was born?””
I froze.
Because he was right.
My memories were clear.
But there was a strange emptiness.
A missing piece.
A blank space.
I looked at Lily.
My daughter.
The daughter I remembered.
The daughter who had no idea her entire life had been built around secrets.
My father spoke softly.
“You weren’t given a new life, Ryan.””
I closed my eyes.
“You were assigned one.””
The call ended.
I stood there holding the phone.
Nobody spoke.
Then the television in the room turned on by itself.
Everyone jumped.
The screen showed a video.
A younger version of me appeared.
Sitting in a hospital room.
Talking directly to the camera.
My own voice filled the room.
“If you’re watching this…”
I stared.
Because I remembered that voice.
It was mine.
“…it means they failed.””
The video version of me looked terrified.
And then he said something that made Caroline collapse.
“Ryan, don’t trust anyone.””
A pause.
May you like
Then:
“Especially me.””