Chương 6
Like Ethan had carried it around for months.
“He said he was sorry he didn’t listen.”
Claire started crying silently.
Arthur looked at her.
She did not wipe the tears away this time.
“What else?”
Ethan hesitated.
“He said he didn’t want Grandpa to hate him.”
Arthur closed his eyes.
For a second, he was not in the mansion.
He was back in the workshop where Daniel was sixteen years old, standing beside a broken engine and refusing help.
He remembered his son saying, “I don’t want you to think I can’t do things.”
Arthur opened his eyes.
His son had carried that fear his entire life.
“Did you hear the other person?” Arthur asked.
Ethan nodded slowly.
“Only one thing.”
“What?”
The boy looked toward the staircase.
His voice dropped.
“They said, ‘You should have taken care of this before your father found out.’”
Nobody moved.
Arthur felt the meaning of those words settle in.
The person Daniel feared was not worried about the money.
They were worried about Arthur discovering the truth.
The secret had always been connected to him.
Arthur stood slowly.
The mansion suddenly felt unfamiliar.
Every hallway.
Every locked room.
Every quiet conversation.
All of it looked different.
He looked at Evelyn.
Then Claire.
Then the staircase where Ethan had stood.
“Tonight,” Arthur said quietly, “we find out what Daniel was trying to tell me.”
Outside, the snow kept falling.
Inside, the family that had spent two years protecting a secret finally had to face what the secret had been protecting them from.
Arthur carried the flash drive upstairs with the careful grip of someone holding something fragile, even though it was only plastic and metal.
Ethan walked beside him, staying close enough that their shoulders touched every few steps.
Claire followed behind them, quieter than she had been all night.
Evelyn came last.
Nobody asked her to leave.
Nobody trusted her enough to ask her to stay.
The office door waited at the end of the hallway.
Arthur had walked past it hundreds of times since Daniel died.
Each time, he found a reason not to open it.
There were always other things to do.
Bills.
Calls.
Repairs.
Funerals.
Small responsibilities that allowed him to avoid the one room where his son still seemed present.
Tonight, avoidance was no longer available.
Arthur unlocked the door.
The smell inside was familiar.
Old leather.
Paper.
The faint scent of Daniel’s cologne still trapped in the room.
Ethan stopped at the entrance.
“You can wait outside,” Arthur said.
The boy shook his head.
“No.”
Arthur looked at him.
“You don’t have to see this.”
“I already saw it.”
The answer was quiet.
Arthur did not argue.
He understood something then.
Ethan was not staying because he was curious.
He was staying because he had already been alone with the fear for too long.
They entered together.
The office looked almost exactly as Arthur remembered.
Daniel’s desk remained covered with folders.
A coffee mug sat near the computer.
A framed picture of Daniel, Claire, and Ethan stood beside the monitor.
A normal family moment frozen in time.
Arthur picked it up.
Daniel was smiling.
Ethan was four years old in the picture.
He was missing one front tooth.
Arthur remembered that day.
Daniel had complained for an hour because Ethan refused to wear the sweater Claire bought him.
Then Daniel had secretly let him wear a superhero shirt under his nicer clothes.
Claire had been annoyed.
Daniel had laughed.
It had been ordinary.
Those memories were the hardest ones.
Not the big moments.
The small ones that proved someone had really existed.
“Where did he keep things?” Arthur asked.
Claire looked around.
“He didn’t have secrets from me.”
The words sounded like she was trying to convince herself.
Arthur did not respond.
He opened drawers.
Most contained normal things.
Receipts.
Pens.
Old notebooks.
Business papers.
Then he found something unusual.
A folder hidden beneath the bottom drawer.
The folder was thin.
Too thin for the fear surrounding it.
Inside were printed bank records.
Arthur scanned the pages.
His expression changed.
“What?”
Claire stepped closer.
Arthur held up the papers.
“The money wasn’t taken all at once.”
Evelyn moved beside him.
“What do you mean?”
“These transfers happened over almost a year.”
Claire looked confused.
“Daniel said it was recent.”
Arthur looked at her.
“Who told you that?”
She stopped.
Nobody spoke.
Arthur looked between them.
Another missing piece.
Another carefully controlled version of events.
“Daniel told me he had made a mistake,” Claire said.
“When?”
“Two months before he died.”
Arthur placed the papers down.
“Then he lied.”
Claire flinched.
“No.”
Arthur looked at her.
“I’m not saying he lied to hurt you.”
He tapped the documents.
“I’m saying he didn’t tell you everything.”
Claire sat down in Daniel’s chair.
Her fingers moved over the armrest.
A small habit.
One Arthur recognized.
She did it whenever she was overwhelmed.
“I thought I knew him.”
Arthur softened.
“You did.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I knew the person he wanted me to know.”
The sentence hurt because Arthur had felt the same way.
Everyone had known a different version of Daniel.
The successful son.
The loving husband.
The stubborn businessman.
The frightened man hiding behind all of them.
Evelyn connected the flash drive to Daniel’s computer.
The screen lit up.
A password prompt appeared.
Nobody moved.
Arthur looked at her.
“Do you know it?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Claire looked toward the desk.
“Try Ethan.”
Everyone looked at her.
She seemed surprised by their reaction.
“What?”
“Why would it be Ethan?”
Claire swallowed.
“Because Daniel used him for everything.”
Arthur frowned.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does.”
She looked at the photograph.
“When Daniel was stressed, he would look at Ethan.”
Her voice became softer.
“He said Ethan reminded him what mattered.”
Arthur typed Ethan’s name.
The password failed.
Ethan looked embarrassed.
“I’m sorry.”
Arthur immediately turned.
“Why are you sorry?”
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“Because I couldn’t help.”
The answer broke something inside Arthur.
