Chapter 2: The Man in My Father's Office
My father increased the volume.
The security footage was grainy, but the faces were clear enough.
Vanessa walked behind the desk and switched on the lamp.
The stranger closed the office door.
Then he placed a thick brown folder on the desk.
My father gripped his phone.
"Who the hell is that man?""
Vanessa stepped closer.
"Michael, it's probably nothing.""
"Then why are you asking me to turn it off?""
She swallowed.
The man on the recording pulled out a chair.
"Did you bring everything?"" he asked.
Vanessa nodded.
"Everything.""
"Even the signed documents?""
She smiled.
"Of course.""
My father slowly turned toward her.
"What signed documents?""
Vanessa ignored him.
On the screen, the stranger opened the folder and spread several papers across the desk.
I could barely make out the writing, but one phrase was visible.
LIFE INSURANCE POLICY.
The stranger tapped the page.
"Two million dollars. That's a lot of money to leave sitting around.""
Vanessa laughed quietly.
"Not for much longer.""
My father's breathing changed.
"Two million?""
He looked at Vanessa.
"Why are you discussing a two-million-dollar insurance policy?""
She shook her head.
"Michael, please. You're misunderstanding the recording.""
The man on the screen continued.
"And what about the boy?""
Vanessa leaned back in the office chair.
"Ryan?""
"Yes. He's the biggest obstacle.""
She smiled.
"That's why today's little performance was necessary. Once Michael throws him out, nobody will be around to question what happens next.""
My stomach twisted.
My father stared at the screen.
Then the stranger said something that made him drop the phone onto the couch.
"What about the accident?""
Vanessa leaned forward.
"Michael still believes his accident last year was caused by faulty brakes. He has no idea what we actually did to his car.""
My father went completely still.
For several seconds, the only sound in the living room was the air conditioner humming above us.
Then he whispered:
"What did she just say?""
I picked up his phone.
The recording continued.
The stranger opened another section of the folder and removed a photograph.
It showed my father's black Mercedes parked outside our garage.
I recognized it immediately.
It was the same car he'd crashed into a concrete barrier eleven months earlier.
He'd survived with a broken collarbone and several fractured ribs.
The mechanic had told him the brake system had failed.
We had all believed it.
My mother used to say my father drove too fast, but after the accident, he'd become careful.
He rarely drove at night anymore.
Now, watching the recording, I felt something much worse than fear.
I felt sick.
My father sat down slowly.
"Vanessa," he said.
"Tell me that's not what I think it is.""
She began shaking her head.
"Michael, you have to understand. Daniel was trying to help me.""
"Daniel?""
The stranger on the screen turned slightly.
The camera caught his face.
My father covered his mouth.
It was his younger brother.
Daniel.
The same Daniel who had attended my mother's funeral, hugged my father, and promised that he would always look after our family.
The same Daniel who had visited us every Christmas.
The same Daniel who had once taken me fishing and told me that family was the only thing a person could truly count on.
My father stood up.
"That's my brother.""
Vanessa reached for his hand.
"Michael, please sit down.""
He pulled away.
"Why is my brother discussing my insurance policy with you at two in the morning?""
She looked toward the front door.
I noticed.
So did my father.
"Don't even think about leaving," he warned.
Vanessa's expression hardened.
"You don't understand what you're doing.""
My father laughed bitterly.
"Then explain it to me.""
She looked at me.
For one brief second, her eyes were filled with pure hatred.
Then she turned back to my father.
"Daniel was worried about you. That's all.""
"Then why did he say something about my brakes?""
"He was talking about the accident!""
"Exactly!""
My father picked up the phone again.
He rewound the footage.
This time, he paused when Daniel removed a document from the folder.
The paper had a signature at the bottom.
My father's signature.
Except something about it looked wrong.
The final stroke was too long.
I had seen my father sign thousands of documents over the years. He always finished his signature with a short upward flick.
This one ended in a long, uneven line.
"Dad," I said quietly.
"Did you sign that?""
He shook his head.
"No.""
Vanessa suddenly stepped forward.
"Michael, I think you've watched enough.""
He raised his hand.
"Stay away from me.""
She stopped.
On the screen, Daniel placed the document back inside the folder.
Then he looked directly toward the camera.
He walked closer.
For a moment, his face filled the screen.
He smiled.
Not nervously.
Not accidentally.
He smiled as if he knew exactly where the camera was.
Then he pointed toward it.
"Vanessa," he said in the recording, "make sure this thing isn't connected to the backup system.""
Vanessa nodded.
"I already handled that.""
My father looked at her.
"What's the backup system?""
She didn't answer.
I remembered something.
The security company had installed a secondary recording device in the basement after my father's accident. My father had paid extra for it because he'd become paranoid about break-ins.
The system stored footage separately from the phone application.
I rushed toward the basement door.
"Ryan!"" my father called.
"What?""
"Where are you going?""
"The backup recorder!""
My father followed me.
Behind us, Vanessa suddenly screamed.
"MICHAEL, DON'T LET HIM GO DOWN THERE!""
We turned.
She was standing beside the office doorway.
Her hands were trembling.
And for the first time, I understood something.
May you like
She wasn't afraid of being caught lying about me.
She was afraid of what we might find downstairs.
