Chapter 8: The Betrayal Inside the Family
The recorder clicked again.
For a second, I thought it had stopped.
Then my father’s voice returned.
“The person who helped destroy our family was my brother.””
I froze.
My uncle.
Grant Dennis.
The man who raised a glass at my eighteenth birthday.
The man who told me I reminded him of my father.
The man who sat beside me during the trial and whispered that everything would be okay.
“No,” I said.
My mother looked at me.
“Finnley…”
“No.””
I stepped away from the recorder.
“Grant wouldn’t do that.””
My mother’s expression was painful.
“Your father thought the same thing.””
I stared at her.
“What happened?””
She walked toward the desk.
“Your father discovered money disappearing from the company.””
I picked up one of the files.
“Grant?””
She nodded.
“He had access to everything.””
I flipped through the documents.
There were signatures.
Transfers.
Private accounts.
All connected to my uncle.
My hands started shaking.
“But why frame me?””
“Because Camden was going to expose him.””
I looked at the recorder.
My father’s voice continued.
“Grant knew I would protect Finnley. He knew I would fight the accusations. He also knew the company would collapse if a scandal reached the public.””
I closed my eyes.
“So they made me the scandal.””
“Yes.””
The room felt smaller.
My own family had built the cage I spent three years inside.
A noise suddenly came from the tunnel.
My mother turned.
“They found the passage.””
We quickly gathered the evidence.
The recorder.
The files.
The photographs.
Everything that could prove the truth.
But before we left, I noticed something on the desk.
A small envelope.
Not addressed to me.
To Reagan.
I opened it.
Inside was a single photograph.
My father and Reagan.
Standing together.
Smiling.
But on the back, my father had written:
I know what you did.
I stared at the words.
My mother noticed.
“What is it?””
I handed her the photograph.
Her face changed.
“She was working with him longer than we thought.””
The sound of footsteps grew louder.
Someone entered the hidden office.
We hid behind a shelf.
A shadow appeared.
Not Reagan.
Not Victor.
Grant.
My uncle stepped into my father’s secret room.
My heart stopped.
He looked older.
Tired.
But it was him.
He walked to the desk.
And whispered:
“I’m sorry, Camden.””
I watched him.
My fists tightened.
“You should have listened.””
He picked up the recorder.
“The truth should have stayed buried.””
My mother moved slightly.
The shelf made a small noise.
Grant turned.
“Who’s there?””
I stepped out.
“Hello, Uncle Grant.””
His face lost all color.
For the first time in my life…
I saw fear in his eyes.
“Finnley.””
“Yes.””
He took a step back.
“You’re alive.””
I laughed bitterly.
“Were you hoping I wouldn’t be?””
Grant looked at my mother.
Then back at me.
“You don’t understand what you’re involved in.””
“I understand enough.””
I held up the files.
“You framed me.””
“No.””
His answer was immediate.
Too immediate.
“You were just the easiest person to blame.””
The words hung in the air.
My uncle realized what he had said.
Too late.
My mother stared at him.
“You just admitted it.””
Grant’s face hardened.
“You have no idea what your father started.””
“What did he start?””
Grant looked toward the recorder.
“The moment Camden discovered the truth, everyone became a target.””
I stepped closer.
“Everyone?””
He looked at me.
Then said something that made my blood run cold.
“Your father wasn’t killed because he knew who betrayed him.””
A pause.
“He was killed because he discovered who was controlling all of us.””
Before I could ask another question, the lights in the hidden office went out.
Darkness surrounded us.
Then a voice came from the tunnel entrance.
A voice I recognized.
Victor Hale.
“Grant.””
My uncle looked terrified.
Victor continued:
“You failed.””
And in that moment, I realized something.
May you like
My uncle wasn’t the mastermind.
He was only another piece on the board.
