Chapter 9: The Last Lie
The police arrived the next morning.
But before they took Diane away for questioning, she asked to speak with me.
Alone.
I almost refused.
After everything she had done, part of me wanted to walk away.
But another part needed answers.
So I sat across from her in the small interview room.
For the first time, she didn't look powerful.
She looked old.
Tired.
Broken.
"Marcus.""
I stared at the table.
"Don't.""
She nodded.
"I deserve that.""
"You manipulated my mother.""
"Yes.""
"You hurt my wife.""
"Yes.""
"You helped destroy my family.""
Her eyes filled.
"Yes.""
The honesty was uncomfortable.
"Why?""
She looked at her hands.
"Because I thought I was protecting my son.""
I laughed quietly.
"Everyone keeps saying that.""
She looked at me.
"What?""
"My mother hid the truth to protect me.""
"Nia hid the truth to protect me.""
"You hid the truth to protect Ethan.""
I leaned forward.
"And all of you destroyed the people you were trying to protect.""
She closed her eyes.
"You're right.""
That was the hardest part.
Nobody was pretending anymore.
No excuses.
No lies.
Just damage.
"What happened the night my father died?""
Diane looked away.
"I didn't kill him.""
"Then tell me who did.""
Her face changed.
Fear.
Real fear.
"I don't know.""
I studied her.
"You expect me to believe that?""
"Yes.""
"Why?""
"Because the person who killed your father was the only person smart enough to make everyone believe it was an accident.""
My heart stopped.
"Who?""
She looked at me.
"Your mother knows.""
I stood.
"Enough.""
"Marcus.""
"No.""
I turned away.
But her next words stopped me.
"Your mother wasn't protecting you from the truth.""
I slowly looked back.
"Then what was she doing?""
Diane whispered:
"She was protecting the person who saved your life.""
I froze.
"What does that mean?""
Before she could answer, the door opened.
Nia stood there.
Her face was pale.
"Marcus.""
I looked at her.
"What?""
She held a small envelope.
"I found this in my mother's house.""
My stomach tightened.
"What is it?""
She handed it to me.
The handwriting was familiar.
My father's.
The envelope had my name.
Not Richard's.
Not my mother's.
Mine.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Inside was a letter.
Marcus,
If you are reading this, then the truth has finally found you.
I stopped breathing.
I need you to know something first.
Your mother did not betray me.
I looked at Nia.
Then kept reading.
The night I died, I made a choice.
I chose to disappear.
My eyebrows pulled together.
Disappear?
There are people who will tell you I was murdered.
There are people who will tell you I abandoned you.
Both stories are wrong.
My hands tightened around the paper.
Then came the sentence that changed everything.
I was alive when your mother buried me.
I dropped the letter.
"What?""
Nia covered her mouth.
"No.""
I read the line again.
And again.
It didn't change.
My father wasn't dead.
Not the way I thought.
He had survived.
My mother knew.
And for thirty years, she let me believe he was gone.
The door opened again.
This time, it was Richard.
His face told me he already knew.
"You found it.""
I looked at him.
"You knew.""
He nodded.
"Yes.""
"Where is he?""
Richard didn't answer.
"Where is my father?""
His eyes filled with something I never expected.
Sadness.
"Marcus.""
"Where is he?""
Richard took a breath.
Then said the words that shattered the last piece of my childhood.
"He's been closer than you think.""
I felt cold.
"What does that mean?""
Richard looked toward the hallway.
And before he could answer, a man appeared behind him.
Older.
Gray hair.
A cane in his hand.
A face I had only seen in photographs.
My entire world stopped.
May you like
Because after thirty years of mourning a dead man...
My father was standing in front of me.
