Chapter 21: The Voice From the Past
Nobody spoke.
Not immediately.
Because sometimes the impossible doesn't feel shocking.
It feels empty.
Like your brain refuses to process it.
I looked at my phone.
The call log showed an unknown number.
Nothing else.
No name.
No explanation.
Just proof that something impossible had happened.
Vanessa looked at me.
"Michael...""
I couldn't answer.
Diane looked terrified.
Not confused.
Terrified.
"You heard it.""
Her voice was barely a whisper.
I turned.
"What?""
She stared at the phone.
"You heard her.""
I felt cold.
"You believe that was my mother?""
Diane didn't answer.
That was enough.
"How?""
She sat down slowly.
"I don't know.""
Nobody did.
That had become the most common sentence in my life.
I left the Whitmore house with more questions than answers.
But one thing had changed.
I wasn't chasing ghosts anymore.
The ghosts were finding me.
I returned to Arthur's house.
He was still recovering.
When I entered, he immediately knew something happened.
"What happened?""
I looked at him.
"I received a call.""
His expression changed.
"From who?""
I didn't answer.
His face became pale.
"Michael.""
I said the words slowly.
"It sounded like her.""
My father stopped breathing.
"Your mother.""
The reaction was immediate.
Fear.
Not surprise.
Fear.
"You've heard that voice before.""
He looked away.
That was my answer.
"Dad.""
He closed his eyes.
"Yes.""
My heart sank.
"When?""
"Years ago.""
"Years?""
He nodded.
"After she died.""
I couldn't move.
"You're saying you heard her after she died?""
He looked at me.
"I know how it sounds.""
"No.""
I shook my head.
"I need you to explain.""
He was silent.
Then he walked to the cabinet.
From inside, he removed another box.
Another secret.
Another thing he had hidden.
I almost laughed.
"Of course.""
He ignored the comment.
Inside was a collection of old recordings.
"I received these over the years.""
I stared.
"From who?""
"Unknown numbers.""
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I didn't know if they were real.""
I picked one up.
"What did they say?""
My father looked away.
"Warnings.""
"About what?""
"You.""
I froze.
"Me?""
He nodded.
"Your mother was trying to protect you.""
I played one.
Static.
Then silence.
Then a woman's voice.
Soft.
Familiar.
My heart stopped.
Michael...
I dropped the recorder.
Because there was no doubt.
It was her.
My mother.
The woman I lost as a child.
The woman whose face existed only in memories.
She was speaking to me.
"If you're hearing this, then things have gone wrong.""
My eyes filled.
"I need you to listen carefully.""
The recording continued.
"Arthur will tell you he protected me.""
A pause.
"He did.""
I looked at my father.
"He will tell you he protected you.""
Another pause.
"He did.""
Tears moved down my face.
"But he will not tell you the entire truth.""
My father's face changed.
The recording continued.
"Because the truth is not about who killed me.""
A pause.
"The truth is about why I allowed it to happen.""
My heart stopped.
Allowed it?
"What does that mean?""
The recording ended.
I looked at Arthur.
"What did she mean?""
He looked devastated.
"I don't know.""
But this time...
I believed him.
Because for the first time, he looked just as lost as I was.
Then another sound came.
A knock at the door.
We both froze.
Arthur reached for the nearest object.
I walked toward the entrance.
Slowly.
Carefully.
I opened the door.
Nobody was there.
Only an envelope.
My name was written on it.
Again.
I picked it up.
Inside was a photograph.
My mother.
Holding me as a baby.
On the back:
Michael,
You are looking for the person who destroyed your family.
But you should be looking for the person who saved it.
Turn around.
I slowly looked behind me.
And there stood Arthur.
My father.
The man who raised me.
The man who had protected me.
Holding something in his hand.
Something I had never seen before.
A wedding ring.
My mother's wedding ring.
May you like
And engraved inside were four words.
The truth is inside.
