Chapter 7 - THE RECORDING THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
Police sirens approached before Marcus's men could force their way inside.
The attackers retreated.
The property was secured.
But the message remained.
Marcus wanted me.
Not Damian.
Me.
After the danger passed, Elena led us to the basement.
Behind a storage cabinet was a small locked compartment.
Inside lay a metal box.
She opened it.
A digital recorder rested inside.
Old.
Scratched.
Still intact.
My hands shook.
“That's Dad's?”
Elena nodded.
I pressed play.
Static hissed.
Then my father's voice filled the room.
“Thomas Reed. Private record. October seventeenth.”
I covered my mouth.
His voice sounded exactly as I remembered.
Calm.
Measured.
A little tired.
“If this recording is being heard, I may not be able to finish what I started.”
I began crying.
He continued.
“I've identified unauthorized shipments moving through the Cross network. Marcus Vance appears to be coordinating them.”
Damian stood motionless.
Then my father said:
“Damian Cross may be involved in other criminal activity, but I have no evidence that he authorized these particular shipments.”
I looked at Damian.
His expression tightened.
The recording continued.
“I've also found evidence that Marcus is paying someone inside a federal contracting office to falsify inspection records.”
Evelyn leaned forward.
My father named the official.
A man named Arthur Bell.
Then came the final part.
“If anything happens to me, Chloe must know I didn't leave her willingly.”
My breath caught.
“I love my daughter more than anything in this world.”
Tears streamed down my face.
“And if she's hearing this, Little Sparrow, I'm sorry.”
I broke.
Damian stepped toward me.
Then stopped.
He didn't touch me.
He simply stood nearby.
My father's voice continued.
“Don't let what happened to me become the only story you tell about your life.”
The recording ended.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Then I looked at Damian.
“You knew this existed?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
I turned toward Elena.
“Why didn't you give it to me?”
She began crying.
“Marcus threatened my family.”
I stared.
She continued.
“He said if I spoke, my son would disappear.”
Damian's expression hardened.
I looked at the recorder.
Then whispered:
May you like
“Dad, I hear you.”
And for the first time in eight years, I felt as though he had finally come home.
