Chapter 4 — My Father’s Locked Office
Chapter 4 — My Father’s Locked Office
I stared at the photograph until the screen went dark.
Robert Hayes was alive.
The man my mother had told me died eleven years ago.
The man Daniel had told me died of cancer in 2015.
The man my father's final letter had told me to find.
Alive.
Standing outside Bradley Engineering.
And apparently watching everything that had happened to me.
I showed the photograph to Amy.
She studied it carefully.
“That's him?”
“Yes.”
“The man from your father's photograph?”
I nodded.
She looked at me.
“Then your father knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That Robert was still alive.”
I looked at the photograph again.
There was something about it that bothered me.
The date printed in the corner was yesterday.
Someone had taken the picture yesterday.
That meant Robert wasn't merely alive.
He was active.
And he had wanted me to know.
I called Daniel.
“Send me the original file.”
“Why?”
“Metadata.”
There was a pause.
“You think it matters?”
“Yes.”
“I'll send it.”
The file arrived thirty seconds later.
Daniel was right.
The photograph had been taken at 7:42 p.m.
Yesterday.
The location data placed Robert outside an office building in Franklin.
But the building wasn't Bradley Engineering.
It was an old warehouse.
I looked at the coordinates.
Then at Amy.
“We're going there.”
She didn't hesitate.
“I'll get my coat.”
The warehouse sat behind an abandoned rail line.
There were no signs.
No cars.
No lights.
At first glance, it looked empty.
I parked across the street.
Amy remained inside the car.
“You want me to stay here?”
“No.”
“Then what are we doing?”
“I don't know.”
She smiled faintly.
“At least you're honest.”
I got out.
We approached the building.
The front door was locked.
I walked around the side.
A narrow service entrance stood beneath a broken security light.
It was unlocked.
I pushed it open.
Inside, the air smelled of dust and old paper.
A single fluorescent light flickered overhead.
Then I heard something.
Footsteps.
I stopped.
Amy grabbed my arm.
“Connor.”
“I heard it.”
We waited.
Nothing.
Then a voice came from the darkness.
“You shouldn't have come.”
I froze.
The voice was older.
Rough.
But familiar.
A man stepped into the light.
Gray hair.
Thin face.
Dark jacket.
I knew him immediately.
“Robert.”
He looked at me.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he smiled sadly.
“You look like your father.”
I swallowed.
“You're alive.”
“Yes.”
“My mother said you died.”
“I know.”
“Daniel said you died.”
“He was told the same lie.”
“Why?”
Robert looked toward Amy.
“Because Teresa needed everyone to believe I was gone.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew what your father had done.”
I stepped closer.
“What did he do?”
Robert shook his head.
“Not here.”
“Then where?”
He looked at me.
“His office.”
“My father's office was destroyed.”
“No.”
Robert's answer was immediate.
“Your father had two offices.”
I felt my pulse rise.
“The workshop?”
“No.”
He pointed toward the far wall.
“The one nobody knew existed.”
Behind a row of old filing cabinets was a steel door.
There was no handle.
Robert pressed a small section of the wall.
A keypad appeared.
He entered six numbers.
The door opened.
Amy stared.
“What is this?”
Robert looked at me.
“Your father's private office.”
I stepped inside.
The room was perfectly preserved.
Not dusty.
Not abandoned.
Preserved.
The desk was exactly where it had been.
Books lined the shelves.
Blueprints covered one wall.
Photographs covered another.
There was even a coffee mug sitting beside the computer.
I walked toward it.
“My father used this?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Until the night he died.”
I looked around.
“How did my mother not know?”
“She knew about the workshop.”
“But not this.”
Robert nodded.
“Your father trusted very few people.”
“Did he trust you?”
“Yes.”
I turned.
“Then why did he tell me to find you?”
“Because he knew eventually you'd need the truth.”
“What truth?”
Robert looked at the desk.
“That your mother didn't cause the problem.”
I frowned.
“She caused everything.”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“She caused damage.”
“What's the difference?”
“Teresa wanted the money.”
Robert paused.
“Someone else wanted the power.”
I stared at him.
“Who?”
He didn't answer.
Instead, he walked toward the desk.
He opened a hidden drawer.
Inside was a small cassette recorder.
He pressed play.
My father's voice filled the room.
My knees nearly gave out.
“Connor.”
I closed my eyes.
His voice sounded exactly as I remembered.
Older.
Tired.
But steady.
“If you're hearing this, something has gone very wrong.”
I opened my eyes.
Robert continued the recording.
“Your mother believes this is about money.”
A pause.
“She is wrong.”
I looked at Amy.
My father's voice continued.
“The money is bait.”
My stomach tightened.
“The trust is bait.”
Another pause.
“Even the company is bait.”
I stepped closer to the recorder.
“What does that mean?”
The recording continued.
“There is something far more valuable than everything I own.”
My father's voice became quieter.
“Information.”
The tape clicked.
Then stopped.
I stared at Robert.
“What information?”
He looked at me.
“The information that could destroy people far more powerful than your mother.”
“Who?”
Robert shook his head.
“Your father never told me everything.”
“But you know something.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
Robert hesitated.
“Your father discovered that several construction companies were laundering money through government contracts.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Companies were submitting inflated bids.”
“Government contracts?”
“Yes.”
“Who was involved?”
“Politicians.”
“Which ones?”
Robert looked at me.
“Some are still in office.”
My stomach turned.
“This is why my father died?”
“I don't know.”
“You said you knew what he had done.”
“I know he was preparing to expose them.”
“And then he died.”
“Yes.”
I looked at the recorder.
“Was he murdered?”
Robert didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
I opened the desk.
Inside were folders.
Thousands of pages.
Invoices.
Contracts.
Bank transfers.
Photographs.
Names.
Dates.
I pulled out one folder.
At the top was a word:
PROJECT FALCON.
I opened it.
The first page contained a list of companies.
The second contained government agencies.
The third contained payment records.
Then I saw a familiar name.
Teresa Bradley.
My heart dropped.
“She's involved.”
Robert nodded.
“Not at first.”
“Then when?”
“After your father died.”
“How?”
“She took control of the company.”
I frowned.
“But she didn't know about this office.”
“She knew enough.”
I turned another page.
There were transfers between companies.
One company paid another.
Then another.
Eventually, money moved into a private trust.
I recognized the account.
The same account Daniel had traced.
Teresa's hidden account.
I looked at Robert.
“She stole from me.”
“She did.”
“But the money came from this operation.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Robert's expression became grim.
“Because Teresa wasn't stealing your money to get rich.”
“Then why?”
“She was paying someone.”
“Who?”
Robert didn't answer.
I slammed the folder onto the desk.
“Who?”
He looked at me.
“Your mother has been paying someone for thirteen years.”
“Who?”
“A man named Victor Lang.”
The name meant nothing.
“Who is he?”
“Your father's former business partner.”
I remembered the photograph.
Robert.
My father.
Another man.
“Victor is in the picture.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because your father told me not to.”
“Why?”
“Because Victor knew where the bodies were buried.”
I stared at him.
“Literally?”
Robert's face didn't change.
“I wish I could say no.”
The room seemed colder.
“What happened to him?”
“He disappeared.”
“When?”
“Three days before your father died.”
I felt a chill.
“And he came back?”
“No.”
“Then who has been receiving the money?”
Robert looked at me.
“We don't know.”
I searched through the files.
There were dozens of references to Victor.
But nothing about his location.
Then Amy noticed something.
“Connor.”
She pointed to a document.
There was a signature at the bottom.
V. Lang.
The date was only two years old.
I stared.
“That's impossible.”
“Why?”
“Victor disappeared thirteen years ago.”
Robert leaned over the desk.
He looked at the document.
His face went pale.
“This isn't his signature.”
“What?”
“It's close.”
“But not his.”
“Then someone is using his name.”
I looked at Amy.
“Why?”
Robert didn't answer.
Instead, he opened another drawer.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed a young man.
Maybe twenty-five.
Standing beside my father.
I didn't recognize him.
“Who is that?”
Robert stared at the photograph.
“Victor's son.”
I frowned.
“He had a son?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to him?”
“He disappeared too.”
“Why?”
Robert looked at me.
“Because your father hid him.”
I stared.
“From whom?”
“Victor.”
The pieces didn't fit.
“My father protected Victor's son from Victor?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Robert hesitated.
“Because the boy had proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“His father's crimes.”
I looked at the photograph.
“What was his name?”
Robert said:
“Ethan.”
My heart sank.
The same name Daniel had mentioned earlier.
The second beneficiary.
The person my mother had tried to erase.
I turned toward Robert.
“Ethan Lang.”
“Yes.”
“He's alive?”
Robert nodded.
“Somewhere.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
I stared at the photograph.
Then I noticed something written on the back.
If Connor finds this, Ethan must be contacted before Teresa.
My hands went cold.
I looked at Robert.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Ethan was connected to the trust.”
“Yes.”
“You knew my mother was trying to find him.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I needed to know whether you were ready.”
“Ready for what?”
Robert pointed toward the desk.
A final envelope sat beneath the photograph.
My name was on it.
I opened it.
Inside was a letter from my father.
This one was longer.
Connor,
If you have reached this office, then Teresa has already attempted to take control of your inheritance.
Do not trust her.
But do not hate her either.
I stopped.
I read the next line.
She is dangerous, but she is not the most dangerous person in this story.
I continued.
There is a man named Victor Lang.
He knows about Project Falcon.
He knows about the trust.
And he knows about Ethan.
My father's handwriting became shakier.
If Victor discovers Ethan is alive, he will kill him.
I looked at Robert.
“Where is Ethan?”
“I don't know.”
The letter continued.
Your mother believes she can control Victor.
She cannot.
She has been paying him because she believes he can keep you away from the truth.
My stomach tightened.
The money Teresa had stolen from me wasn't simply disappearing.
She had been paying Victor.
But why?
My father's final words answered it.
If Teresa ever tries to separate you from Amy, understand why.
She needs Amy gone because Amy is the only person named in the final trust who can block Victor's access to the assets.
I looked at Amy.
She was staring at the page.
My father had known.
He had known that my mother would target her.
He had designed the trust specifically to protect her.
Then I reached the final paragraph.
Connor, your mother will tell you that she is protecting you.
She will believe it.
But protection without truth becomes control.
And control without love becomes cruelty.
I felt tears in my eyes.
The final sentence was written alone.
Choose the person who lets you remain yourself.
I looked at Amy.
She was crying.
I reached for her.
She took my hand.
Then the lights went out.
The entire office became black.
Amy gasped.
Robert moved immediately.
“Stay down.”
A sound came from outside.
Metal scraping against metal.
Someone was opening the warehouse door.
Robert reached beneath his jacket.
He pulled out a gun.
My heart pounded.
“Who is that?”
“Someone who knows we're here.”
“How?”
Robert looked at the security monitor.
The screen was black.
“They cut the cameras.”
A shadow moved beneath the office door.
Amy gripped my arm.
Robert whispered:
“Don't move.”
The handle turned.
Slowly.
Once.
Twice.
Then stopped.
A voice came through the door.
“Connor.”
I froze.
I knew that voice.
My mother.
“Open the door.”
I looked at Robert.
He shook his head.
Teresa's voice came again.
“I know you're in there.”
Amy whispered:
“How did she find us?”
I didn't know.
Then another voice came from behind Teresa.
A man's voice.
Cold.
Calm.
“Open the door, Connor.”
Robert's face changed.
He whispered one word.
“Victor.”
My heart stopped.
The man who had supposedly disappeared thirteen years ago.
The man Teresa had been paying.
The man my father had warned me about.
He was standing outside the locked office.
And he knew my name.
Then Victor spoke again.
“You have something that belongs to me.”
I looked at the letter.
Then at Amy.
Robert raised his weapon.
Victor laughed softly.
“Robert.”
Robert's jaw tightened.
“You're alive too.”
“I've been alive longer than you think.”
“What do you want?”
“The boy.”
I froze.
“Ethan?”
Victor didn't answer.
Instead, he said:
“Your father hid my son.”
Robert looked at me.
Victor continued.
“And now you have the location.”
I stared at the door.
“We don't know where he is.”
Victor laughed.
“Then why did your father leave you his photograph?”
My blood ran cold.
He knew about the photograph.
Which meant he knew about the office.
Which meant someone had told him.
I looked at Robert.
“Who told him?”
Robert's face went pale.
Then he looked at me.
“There's only one person who knew where this office was.”
I already knew the answer.
“Teresa.”
The lights suddenly came back on.
The door was open.
But the hallway was empty.
Teresa was gone.
Victor was gone.
Only one thing remained.
A small envelope lying on the floor.
I picked it up.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed Amy and Frederick leaving the hospital the previous day.
On the back were four words.
You should have listened.
Amy stared at the photograph.
I pulled her close.
My father had spent thirteen years preparing for this.
Teresa had spent thirteen years trying to control it.
And now Victor was coming for us.
But there was something else I couldn't stop thinking about.
The photograph of Ethan.
The second beneficiary.
The missing son.
The man my father had hidden.
If Victor was looking for him...
then Ethan wasn't simply a key to the inheritance.
He was the key to everything.
I looked at Robert.
“Find him.”
Robert nodded.
“I will.”
“And Daniel?”
“I'll call him.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“We can't trust phones anymore.”
Robert understood.
“Then where do we go?”
I looked at the photograph of Ethan.
“The last place my father would have hidden someone.”
“Where?”
I folded the photograph.
“At home.”
Robert frowned.
“Your house?”
I nodded.
“My mother spent years searching for something in that house.”
Amy looked at me.
“What?”
I remembered my father's words.
Choose the person who lets you remain yourself.
Then I remembered something else.
My mother had always refused to let me enter my father's old bedroom.
She said it brought back too many painful memories.
I had never questioned her.
Until now.
“We're going home.”
Amy's eyes widened.
“Connor…”
I looked at her.
“If my mother was searching for something…”
I glanced at Robert.
“…she may have been searching in the wrong place.”
Robert nodded slowly.
“Your father had one room Teresa never entered.”
I stared at him.
“What room?”
He looked at me.
“The room beneath the bedroom.”
My heart stopped.
“There was a basement?”
Robert smiled sadly.
“Not a basement.”
May you like
He paused.
“A vault.”
