Chapter 46 - The Missing Years
The name meant nothing to me.
Thomas Brooks.
I searched my memory anyway.
Nothing.
Not a photograph.
Not a family story.
Not even a passing mention.
“Who was he?” I asked.
Samuel sat down.
“My older brother.”
I stared at him.
“You had another brother?”
“Yes.”
“And nobody told me?”
“They told everyone he died.”
“Was that a lie too?”
“Yes.”
My mother covered her face.
I looked at her.
“You knew?”
“I knew there had been a Thomas.”
“Not that he was my father.”
“I didn't know that.”
Samuel looked at her.
“You knew enough.”
She looked back.
“I knew there was a child involved in the original inheritance. I didn't know his identity.”
I turned to Samuel.
“Then how did you know?”
“Because Thomas came back.”
“When?”
“After you were born.”
My heart pounded.
“He saw me?”
“Yes.”
“Did he hold me?”
Samuel nodded.
“He held you for three minutes.”
Those words broke something inside me.
Three minutes.
A father I'd never known existed had held me for three minutes.
Then disappeared.
“What happened?”
Samuel looked toward David.
“He arrived at the wrong time.”
David's expression was hollow.
“Elias had already taken control of the family records.”
“And Jonathan?”
“Jonathan was working for him.”
“So why did Jonathan pretend to be my father?”
“To keep everyone looking in the wrong direction.”
I stared at the birth certificate.
“Then why did David take me?”
David finally spoke.
“Because Thomas asked me to.”
I looked at him.
“He knew he was being hunted?”
“Yes.”
“By Elias?”
“By Elias and Jonathan.”
“Why?”
“Because Thomas was the only person who could revoke Elias's control.”
Samuel opened the file.
Inside was a photograph.
Thomas stood beside Margaret.
Beside them was a younger Elias.
And another man.
Jonathan.
A family lunch.
A moment frozen before everything broke.
Samuel pointed to Elias.
“He couldn't legally control the trust because Thomas had the founder's authority.”
“So he changed the records.”
“Yes.”
“Then where did Thomas go?”
Samuel looked down.
“We thought he was dead.”
My mother said quietly, “He's not.”
Every head turned.
She looked frightened.
“How do you know?”
“Because I saw him.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
My heart stopped.
“Where?”
“He came to me.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“He told me not to.”
“Why?”
“He said the person watching you wasn't Elias.”
I frowned.
“Who was?”
My mother's eyes filled with tears.
“He said it was you.”
Silence.
Evan looked confused.
“What does that mean?”
My mother shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Samuel stood.
“He meant the trust.”
I looked at the ring.
“The system?”
“Yes.”
“You're saying the trust has been watching me?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Since you were twelve.”
That explained the photographs.
The notes.
The records.
But not why.
“Why me?”
Samuel opened another file.
“This.”
Inside was a handwritten page.
The writing looked like my own.
I stared.
“I didn't write this.”
“I know.”
The page contained one sentence.
When I return, do not tell her who I am.
Evan stepped closer.
“When was this written?”
“Twenty years ago.”
I looked at Samuel.
“By whom?”
“Thomas.”
My father.
I couldn't breathe.
“He wrote that before I was born?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He knew he might lose you.”
I read the line again.
Then another phrase beneath it.
She must discover it herself.
“Discover what?”
Samuel shook his head.
“We don't know.”
“Then what good is any of this?”
“The archive wasn't built to give answers.”
He looked at the room.
“It was built to preserve choices.”
I was about to respond when every monitor turned black.
Then one image appeared.
A hospital corridor.
Dated twelve years earlier.
I stepped closer.
A young woman walked through the corridor carrying a baby.
Me.
Behind her was David.
Behind him was Jonathan.
My blood went cold.
David whispered, “No.”
The footage continued.
My mother stopped outside a room.
A man stepped into the hall.
Thomas.
Alive.
He looked at me.
Then at my mother.
He said something we couldn't hear.
The camera zoomed in.
His lips moved.
I leaned closer.
“What is he saying?”
Samuel answered.
“He's saying, ‘Take her.’”
I looked at David.
“You took me.”
“Yes.”
“Because he told you to.”
“Yes.”
“And my mother let you.”
“She had no choice.”
The recording continued.
Thomas walked away.
My mother started crying.
Then Jonathan entered.
The image froze.
A text box appeared.
EVENT CLASSIFICATION: FABRICATED ABDUCTION.
I stared.
“They made it look like you stole me.”
David nodded.
“To protect Thomas.”
“From Elias?”
“From everyone.”
The monitor changed.
Another date.
Two years later.
Thomas standing alone.
Another message:
STATUS: ALIVE.
I gasped.
Samuel stared.
“No.”
A third date.
One year ago.
Thomas entering a building.
The final message read:
STATUS: ACTIVE.
My mother whispered, “He's been alive this entire time.”
Then the system displayed another line.
CURRENT LOCATION: RESTRICTED.
I touched the screen.
“Show me.”
ACCESS DENIED.
I pressed again.
“Show me.”
ACCESS DENIED.
Then a message appeared.
“THE PERSON WITH THE ANSWER MUST BE INVITED.”
Evan stared at the screen.
“Invited by whom?”
The lights flickered.
The phone in the corner rang.
Once.
Twice.
I walked toward it.
Samuel shouted, “Don't!”
I picked it up anyway.
A man's voice whispered:
“You finally found me.”
I froze.
“Dad?”
A pause.
Then:
“No.”
The voice sounded different now.
Colder.
“I am the man who has been protecting your father.”
The line went dead.
The archive door slammed shut.
May you like
And from the other side, Elias's voice whispered:
“Now you understand why I was afraid of the truth.”
