Chapter 7: The Truth My Mind Buried
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Not Antonio.
Not Marcus.
Not even me.
The recording continued to play the sound of my wife's breathing, and somehow that was worse than the words.
Because I knew that voice.
I knew every version of it.
The voice that whispered my name when I came home late.
The voice that laughed when our daughters spilled paint across the dining room floor.
The voice that sang lullabies when I was too busy building an empire to notice my own children growing up.
Isabelle.
My wife.
My best friend.
The woman who knew every dark corner of my soul.
And now she was telling me I had something to do with her death.
“No.””
The word came out before I could stop it.
Antonio looked at me.
“Dominic—”
“No.””
I picked up the recorder.
My hand was shaking.
Not from fear.
From the impossible weight of trying to understand.
“That wasn't what she meant.””
Nobody answered.
Because nobody wanted to be the one to say it.
I pressed play again.
The same sentence.
The same voice.
“The person who ordered my death was you.””
I closed my eyes.
And suddenly I wasn't in the office anymore.
I was back fourteen months ago.
The morning Isabelle died.
The morning everything changed.
My phone had been ringing nonstop.
There had been a leak inside the organization.
A shipment intercepted.
Money missing.
Names exposed.
I remembered being furious.
I remembered telling Antonio to find whoever was responsible.
I remembered calling Marcus.
But there was one thing I didn't remember.
One conversation.
One meeting.
One decision.
And that scared me more than anything.
Because missing memories don't disappear.
Someone takes them.
“Dominic.””
Marcus's voice pulled me back.
I opened my eyes.
He looked broken.
“You need to listen to the rest.””
I stared at him.
“There is more?””
He nodded.
“Isabelle left several recordings.””
Antonio looked toward the door.
“She shouldn't have.””
My head turned.
“You knew about them.””
His silence answered.
I stepped forward.
“How long have you known?””
“Since the night she died.””
The room exploded.
Not literally.
But inside me, something broke.
“You knew?””
Antonio's eyes filled with regret.
“I found her after the shooting.””
“You found her?””
“Yes.””
“And you never told me?””
“I tried.””
“No.””
My voice became colder.
“You hid it.””
Antonio looked away.
“I was trying to protect you.””
I laughed.
A terrible sound.
“Everyone keeps saying that.””
I looked around the room.
“Everyone protects me by lying to me.””
The girls were still there.
Watching.
Listening.
And that hurt the most.
They had spent fourteen months silent because they were carrying the truth.
A truth all the adults around them were too afraid to face.
I crouched down.
“Girls.””
Olivia looked at me.
“I need you to go downstairs with Grace.””
She didn't move.
“Daddy…”
The way she said it almost destroyed me.
“Yes?””
“Are you the bad man?””
The question stopped everything.
I looked at my daughter.
My six-year-old daughter.
The child who had watched her mother die.
The child who stopped speaking because she was afraid of what words could do.
I swallowed.
“I don't know.””
That was the hardest answer I had ever given.
Because I had spent my entire life pretending I knew everything.
Olivia studied my face.
Then she nodded.
“I think Mommy loved you.””
My chest tightened.
“But she was scared.””
I looked at her.
“Why?””
She glanced at the recorder.
“Because you forgot.””
The room went still.
“What did I forget?””
Olivia looked at Sophie.
Sophie looked at Nora.
Then Nora whispered:
“The basement.””
I felt my stomach drop.
The basement.
Our old basement.
The place I had not entered since Isabelle died.
The place everyone told me not to enter because it reminded me too much of her.
I looked at Antonio.
“What is in the basement?””
His face changed.
Nothing dramatic.
Just enough.
Enough for me to know.
“You knew.””
Antonio didn't answer.
I walked past him.
“Dominic.””
I stopped.
His voice was quiet.
“If you go down there, you may remember everything.””
I looked back.
“Good.””
“Even the parts you don't want?””
I stared at him.
“Especially those.””
The basement door was beneath the kitchen.
Hidden behind a wooden panel.
A place only three people knew existed.
Me.
Isabelle.
And Antonio.
I opened it.
The smell hit me first.
Old wood.
Dust.
And something familiar.
Her perfume.
Impossible.
Fourteen months later.
Still there.
I walked downstairs.
Marcus followed.
Antonio stayed behind.
That told me everything.
He was afraid of what I would find.
At the bottom of the stairs was a small room.
Not a storage room.
An office.
Isabelle's secret office.
On the desk were files.
Photos.
Documents.
And a medical report.
I picked it up.
My name was on it.
Dominic Romano.
I read the first line.
Then the second.
Then I couldn't breathe.
*Patient reports memory gaps following traumatic events.*
I looked at Marcus.
“What is this?””
He didn't answer.
I grabbed another page.
*Possible dissociative episodes caused by extreme stress and prolonged exposure to violence.*
The room tilted.
“No.””
Marcus looked at me.
“Dominic…”
“No.””
I threw the papers down.
“I would know.””
Isabelle's handwriting was on the next page.
*He doesn't remember the nights.*
My heart stopped.
The nights.
What nights?
I searched through the files.
Pictures.
Dates.
Locations.
Then I found the one thing that made my hands go cold.
A photograph.
Me.
Standing outside the preschool.
The same photograph from the message.
But this time, there was something written underneath.
*The morning after Dominic's episode.*
I stared.
“Episode?””
Marcus finally spoke.
“She found you.””
I looked at him.
“Where?””
“Near the preschool.””
My blood froze.
“When?””
“The morning she died.””
I couldn't hear anything.
Not the basement.
Not Marcus.
Not my own breathing.
“You're saying I was there?””
Marcus nodded slowly.
“You were.””
I stumbled back.
“No.””
“She found you before the shooting.””
“Why didn't she tell me?””
Marcus looked at the floor.
“Because you didn't remember.””
The silence that followed felt endless.
Then I heard a sound.
A phone vibrating.
Antonio's phone.
He looked at the screen.
His face changed.
“Who is it?””
He didn't answer.
I walked closer.
The screen showed one name.
A name that made my entire body freeze.
*Isabelle.*
Impossible.
Dead people don't call.
But Antonio answered.
And a woman's voice came through the speaker.
A voice I knew.
A voice I had buried.
“Antonio…”
Everyone stopped.
“Don’t let Dominic remember everything.””
My blood turned cold.
May you like
Because Isabelle was alive.
Or someone wanted me to believe she was.
