Chapter 6: The Question My Father Never Answered
The message stayed on my phone screen for almost a minute.
I read it again.
Then again.
But the words didn’t change.
*Ask your father why he let Marcus die.*
My fingers tightened around the phone.
Everyone in the kitchen was watching me.
My mother looked terrified.
Thomas looked like he had just seen a ghost.
But my father…
My father looked guilty.
Not surprised.
Guilty.
I slowly lowered the phone.
“Dad.””
He didn’t answer.
My voice became harder.
“Why does this person think you let Marcus die?””
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Rain continued hitting the windows.
The clock above the doorway kept ticking.
Every sound felt louder because nobody wanted to speak.
My father finally sat down.
“I was hoping you’d never have to ask me that question.””
My chest tightened.
“Why?””
He looked at me.
“Because I don’t know if I can give you an answer that makes you understand.””
I stared at him.
“You don’t get to decide that.””
My father looked down.
“You’re right.””
I stepped closer.
“You spent my whole life deciding what I should know.””
My voice shook.
“What I could handle.””
I pointed at the phone.
“But someone out there knows more about my life than I do.””
My father closed his eyes.
“Andre…”
“No.””
I shook my head.
“I need the truth.””
My mother reached for my hand.
I let her hold it.
But I didn’t look away from my father.
“Why did Marcus die?””
My father took a long breath.
Then he said something I never expected.
“Because I made a choice.””
The words landed heavily.
“What choice?””
My father looked at the photograph on the table.
The photograph of my mother and Marcus.
The photograph of the life I never knew existed.
“I chose to save one person.””
My stomach tightened.
“Who?””
My father looked at me.
“You.””
Nobody moved.
I stared at him.
“That doesn’t make sense.””
“It does.””
“No, it doesn’t.””
My voice rose.
“If you were trying to save me, why did Marcus die?””
My father’s eyes filled with regret.
“Because Marcus made me promise something.””
“What?””
“That if anything happened…”
He stopped.
I waited.
“If anything happened, I had to take you and your mother and disappear.””
I frowned.
“Disappear?””
“Yes.””
“From who?””
My father looked toward the front door.
Like he was afraid someone could hear us.
“From everyone involved.””
I looked at Thomas.
“Everyone?””
Thomas crossed his arms.
“You don’t understand how serious it was.””
I turned toward him.
“And you do?””
His expression tightened.
“Yes.””
“Then explain.””
Thomas looked away.
Again.
Always looking away.
I stepped closer.
“You keep saying I don’t understand.””
My voice became quieter.
“So help me understand.””
Thomas didn’t answer.
My father did.
“After Marcus died, I took care of everything.””
I looked at him.
“What does that mean?””
“It means I erased every connection between you and him.””
My heart dropped.
“You erased my father?””
My father flinched.
“I protected you.””
“You erased him.””
The words came out before I could stop them.
My father looked hurt.
But I couldn’t take them back.
“You took away the chance to know him.””
My mother cried quietly.
“A person can be gone and still be dangerous.””
I looked at her.
“What?””
She wiped her face.
“Marcus left behind more than a son.””
She looked at the envelope.
“He left behind a war.””
The room became quiet again.
I looked at the papers on the table.
The old letter.
The photograph.
The secrets.
“Who was Marcus really?””
My mother looked at my father.
Then answered.
“He was someone who made bad choices.””
She paused.
“But he was also someone who wanted to fix them.””
I looked at the photo.
“Then why didn’t he?””
My father answered.
“Because some mistakes are bigger than one person.””
Thomas suddenly laughed softly.
Everyone looked at him.
“What?””
He shook his head.
“Nothing.””
My father’s eyes narrowed.
“You think this is funny?””
“No.””
Thomas looked at him.
“I think it’s interesting hearing you talk about mistakes.””
My father stood.
“Careful.””
Thomas stepped closer.
“No. You be careful.””
The room changed instantly.
Two men who had known each other for decades stood across from each other like strangers.
“You want to tell Andre the truth?”” Thomas continued.
“Then tell him everything.””
My father’s face hardened.
“I am.””
“No, you’re telling him your version.””
I looked between them.
“What are you talking about?””
Thomas looked at me.
“Your father wasn’t the only one at that warehouse.””
My father’s expression changed.
“I told you to stop.””
Thomas ignored him.
“Marcus didn’t die immediately.””
My mother gasped.
I froze.
“What?””
Thomas looked at me.
“He was alive after the crash.””
The room went silent.
I felt sick.
My father looked down.
And that was when I knew.
He knew.
I turned toward him slowly.
“Dad?””
He didn’t answer.
“Is that true?””
My father’s silence was the answer.
My voice broke.
“You knew?””
He whispered.
“Yes.””
I stepped back.
“No.””
My mother started crying.
“Andre…”
“No.””
I looked at my father.
“You told me he died in an accident.””
“It was an accident.””
“But he was alive?””
My father nodded slowly.
“For a short time.””
My chest tightened.
“Did he talk?””
My father looked away.
That was enough.
I felt my eyes burn.
“What did he say?””
Nobody answered.
I slammed my hand on the table.
“What did he say?””
My father finally spoke.
“He asked about you.””
Everything stopped.
The anger.
The confusion.
The questions.
All of it.
“He asked if you were safe.””
My father’s voice cracked.
“He asked if your mother got away.””
I looked down.
A stranger I had never known had spent his final moments thinking about me.
And the man who raised me had kept that from me.
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
My father looked broken.
“Because I was afraid.””
“Of what?””
He swallowed.
“That you would hate me.””
The honesty hurt.
Because for the first time that night, he sounded like my father again.
Not the man hiding secrets.
Just my father.
The person who was scared of losing his son.
I looked away.
Then Thomas spoke.
“There’s another reason.””
My head turned.
“What?””
Thomas looked at my father.
“Tell him.””
My father’s expression changed.
“Thomas.””
“Tell him.””
My father didn’t move.
Thomas continued.
“Tell him what Marcus gave you before he died.””
My heart started racing.
“What did he give you?””
My father stared at the floor.
Then he slowly reached into his jacket pocket.
He pulled out something small.
Something old.
A metal key.
I stared.
“What is that?””
My father placed it on the table.
“Marcus gave me this.””
“When?””
“The night he died.””
I looked at it.
“Why?””
My father’s voice was barely audible.
“Because he knew someone would come looking for it.””
My mother looked at the key.
“I thought it was gone.””
My father shook his head.
“No.””
He looked at me.
“I kept it all these years.””
I picked it up.
The metal was cold.
There was a small number engraved on it.
*317.*
I looked at my father.
“What does it open?””
Before he could answer, the lights suddenly went out.
The entire house fell into darkness.
My mother gasped.
Thomas immediately moved toward the window.
My father grabbed my arm.
“Stay away from the windows.””
A second later, we heard something.
A sound outside.
Not thunder.
Not rain.
A car door closing.
Someone was standing outside our house.
Watching.
My phone buzzed again.
I looked down.
Another message.
This time, there was no picture.
Only an address.
And one sentence.
*“Come alone if you want to know what your father really did.””*
I looked at the address.
Then at my father.
Because I recognized the location.
It was the same warehouse where Marcus had died.
May you like
And underneath the message was one final warning.
*“Ask him why he left your real father there.””*
