Chapter 8: The Last Recording
I didn’t play the video immediately.
That surprised Ethan.
It surprised me too.
Because for the past twelve hours, I had been chasing the truth like it was the only thing keeping me alive.
I wanted answers.
I needed answers.
But when the truth was finally sitting in my hand…
I was afraid to open it.
A tiny flash drive.
Something so small it could disappear between my fingers.
Yet somehow, it carried the weight of my entire life.
Ethan stood near my doorway.
Waiting.
“You should go.””
He looked at me.
“What?””
“I need to watch this alone.””
For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue.
Then he nodded.
“I understand.””
I almost stopped him.
Almost.
Because despite everything, there was one question I couldn’t ignore.
“Ethan.””
He turned.
“If you knew all of this…”
His expression changed.
“Why did you still come to the hospital?””
He looked down.
A long silence passed.
Then he answered honestly.
“Because I wanted to see him.””
“The baby.””
He nodded.
“My son.””
The words still hurt.
Even though I knew they were true.
Even though I knew biology wasn’t something I could argue with.
I looked away.
“I hope you understand something.””
“What?””
“I don’t hate him.””
Ethan’s face softened.
“I know.””
“He didn’t do anything wrong.””
“I know.””
I looked at him.
“But I don’t know what I am anymore.””
His eyes lowered.
And for the first time, I saw something besides guilt.
I saw sadness.
“You’re still Marcus.””
The answer annoyed me.
Because it sounded too simple.
“No.””
I shook my head.
“Everyone else gets to decide who I am.””
Ethan didn’t respond.
Because maybe he knew there was nothing he could say.
After he left, I locked the door.
Then I sat at my desk.
The same desk where I used to pay bills.
The same desk where I had planned our future.
I plugged in the flash drive.
One folder appeared.
*MARCUS — WATCH ALONE*
My heart stopped.
My father had written my name.
Not a company file.
Not evidence.
Mine.
I clicked.
A video opened.
The screen flickered.
Static.
Then a room appeared.
A room I recognized.
My father’s old office.
The same office I remembered from childhood.
The walls were darker.
The shelves were emptier.
And my father was sitting in front of the camera.
Older.
Tired.
Afraid.
I stopped breathing.
Because I had spent seven years trying to remember his face.
And now he was right in front of me.
“Marcus.””
His voice broke me instantly.
I covered my mouth.
A sound escaped that I didn’t recognize.
Because hearing someone you lost speak again doesn’t feel like happiness.
It feels like being reminded of what was stolen.
My father looked directly into the camera.
“If you’re watching this, something went wrong.””
I wiped my eyes.
He continued.
“I wanted to tell you everything myself.””
He looked away.
“But your mother convinced me that wasn’t the safest option.””
My body went still.
My mother.
Again.
My father sighed.
“She was right about one thing.””
He leaned closer.
“You were never supposed to be involved.””
The video paused for a second.
Then continued.
“Marcus, I need you to understand something.””
His voice became serious.
“The people around you are not all your enemies.””
I frowned.
Not all?
“Some of them made terrible choices because they were afraid.””
My mind immediately went to Tasha.
To Robert.
To everyone.
“But there is one person who knew exactly what they were doing.””
My father looked directly at the camera.
“One person who turned all of us against each other.””
The screen shook slightly.
My father looked exhausted.
“Daniel was never the leader.””
I froze.
My uncle.
“He was a follower.””
My breathing slowed.
“Daniel helped them because he was weak.””
My father paused.
“But he wasn’t the one who started it.””
I leaned closer.
“Who?””
As if he could hear me.
As if seven years later, he could answer.
Then he said:
“Your mother.””
I stopped the video.
I couldn’t breathe.
The room felt too small.
I stared at the frozen image of my father.
My mother.
The same woman who told me she was protecting me.
The same woman who cried when she saw me.
The same woman who said she was afraid.
I restarted the video.
My father continued.
“I don’t want you to hate her.””
I almost laughed.
How could he ask that?
“She did something unforgivable.””
My chest tightened.
“But she did it because she believed there was no other way.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
My voice was barely audible.
“No, Dad.””
The video continued.
“She made a deal.””
A chill ran through me.
“A deal?””
My father looked away.
“She thought she could control the damage.””
The recording became quieter.
“She was wrong.””
I leaned closer.
“What deal?””
My father took a deep breath.
“The company wasn’t destroyed because of money.””
He looked straight at the camera.
“It was destroyed because someone wanted access to something your grandfather left behind.””
I frowned.
“My grandfather?””
I paused.
I had never heard anything about my grandfather.
My father continued.
“Years ago, my father discovered something about the people he worked with.””
A document appeared briefly on screen.
I couldn’t read it.
“The information was hidden.””
My father continued.
“And when I found it, they realized I was a threat.””
The video shook.
Like he had moved the camera.
“Marcus, the thing your grandfather discovered…”
He stopped.
His expression changed.
Fear.
Real fear.
“…is the reason your entire family has been lying for decades.””
My heart raced.
“What is it?””
My father looked toward the office door.
Then back at the camera.
“I don’t have much time.””
The words made me sit up.
“Dad?””
He continued.
“If something happens to me, trust the box.””
The safety deposit box.
“But understand this.””
He pointed toward the camera.
“The box doesn’t contain the truth.””
I frowned.
“Then what does it contain?””
My father whispered:
“It contains the person who knows the truth.””
The screen went black.
For a few seconds, I thought the video ended.
Then another file opened automatically.
A second recording.
This one was shorter.
The title:
*IF MARCUS FINDS THE BOX*
I stared.
My father appeared again.
But this time, he wasn’t sitting in his office.
He was outside.
Nighttime.
The same night he died.
My blood turned cold.
“Marcus.””
His voice was quieter.
“If you found this, then I failed.””
I leaned forward.
Behind him was a car.
His car.
The one from the crash.
“I need you to listen carefully.””
He looked exhausted.
“Your mother will tell you she had no choice.””
My stomach tightened.
“She will tell you she was protecting you.””
The words echoed.
“But the truth is…”
He stopped.
The recording glitched.
Then came back.
My father looked directly into the camera.
“She made the call.””
My body froze.
The call.
The one my mother made.
“She called me that night.””
My hands clenched.
“She told me someone was coming after you.””
I stared.
“She told me to leave.””
The video shook.
“I believed her.””
My father looked devastated.
“I shouldn’t have.””
The recording cut for a second.
Then:
“Marcus, if you’re watching this…”
His eyes filled with tears.
“I’m sorry.””
I couldn’t move.
“I’m sorry I left you with questions.””
His voice broke.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.””
The camera moved.
The sound of footsteps.
My father looked over his shoulder.
Someone was approaching.
My heart started pounding.
A figure appeared in the background.
Too far away to see.
My father whispered:
“They found me.””
The screen shook violently.
Then my father looked back one final time.
“Marcus…”
A pause.
“Don’t trust the person who saves you.””
The video ended.
I sat there in silence.
The message was clear.
My father wasn’t warning me about the person who hurt him.
He was warning me about the person who would pretend to help.
My phone rang.
I looked at the screen.
Tasha.
I almost ignored it.
But then another call came in.
My mother.
Then another.
Unknown number.
Three people.
Three versions of the truth.
I answered the unknown number.
A man spoke.
“Marcus.””
I recognized the voice.
Daniel.
My grip tightened.
“What do you want?””
“You watched it.””
My blood froze.
“How do you know?””
“Because your father made sure you would.””
I stood.
“Where are you?””
Silence.
Then:
“I need to tell you something before your mother does.””
I laughed.
“Why would I believe you?””
“You shouldn’t.””
That answer surprised me.
“I’m serious.””
A pause.
“Marcus, your father’s recording was edited.””
My stomach dropped.
“What?””
“The person who gave you that flash drive removed the most important part.””
I looked at the computer screen.
“No.””
“Yes.””
Daniel’s voice became urgent.
“You didn’t see what happened after the crash.””
I felt a chill.
“What happened?””
A long silence.
Then Daniel said:
“Your father survived.””
I stopped breathing.
“What?””
“He survived the accident.””
My hand went numb.
“That’s impossible.””
“No.””
Daniel whispered.
“That’s the secret everyone has been protecting.””
The room went silent.
My father.
Alive.
After the crash.
After everyone told me he was gone.
After seven years of grief.
“Where is he?””
Daniel didn’t answer.
And somehow, that terrified me more.
Because I knew.
Whatever came next would change everything.
Then Daniel finally spoke.
“Marcus…”
May you like
His voice broke.
“Your father has been alive this whole time.””