Chapter 6: The Brother I Couldn't Trust
I drove straight to Ethan’s apartment.
I didn’t tell Toby where we were going.
I didn’t tell anyone.
Because for the first time in my life, I wasn’t sure who was watching.
When Ethan opened the door, he looked exhausted.
Not guilty.
Not angry.
Just tired.
But I had learned something over the past twenty-four hours.
People could look innocent and still destroy your life.
“Come in,” he said.
I stepped inside.
“You have five minutes.””
Ethan nodded.
“That’s fair.””
I placed my laptop on the table.
“Explain the video.””
His face changed when he saw the screen.
He knew exactly what I was talking about.
“I knew this would happen.””
“That’s not an explanation.””
He rubbed his face.
“Mark, Vanessa recorded that conversation.””
“So?””
“So she edited it.””
I stared at him.
“You expect me to believe that?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because I was pretending to help her.””
The room went silent.
I laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was unbelievable.
“You were pretending?””
“Yes.””
“You let me think you betrayed Dad?””
“I had to.””
“No, Ethan. You chose to hide everything from me.””
His expression broke.
“I was trying to protect you.””
I looked away.
That sentence had become meaningless.
Everyone who betrayed me seemed to use the same excuse.
Protect you.
Help you.
Save you.
And somehow I was always the last person to know the truth.
Ethan walked to a drawer and pulled out a folder.
“I should have told you sooner.””
He placed it on the table.
Inside were printed emails.
Bank records.
Photos.
“I found out Vanessa was planning something before Dad died.””
I scanned the documents.
“She was trying to transfer control of his accounts.””
“Yes.””
“And you stopped her?””
“Not completely.””
I looked up.
“What does that mean?””
Ethan hesitated.
“She already had help.””
“Who?””
He didn’t answer.
That scared me more than anything.
“Who?””
Ethan looked at me.
“Someone inside the bank.””
“That’s not what you’re hiding.””
His silence confirmed it.
I stepped closer.
“Who helped her?””
Ethan swallowed.
“Mom.””
The word hit harder than I expected.
Our mother.
The woman who cried the loudest at my father’s funeral.
The woman who told everyone how much she loved him.
The woman who hugged me and said we needed to stay strong.
My own family.
All connected.
“No.””
Ethan nodded sadly.
“I found messages between them.””
I grabbed the folder.
There were emails.
Payments.
Conversations.
My mother’s name appeared repeatedly.
I felt sick.
“How long?””
“Months.””
I sat down.
The anger disappeared.
Only emptiness remained.
“My whole family knew?””
“Not everyone.””
“Enough people did.””
Ethan looked down.
“I was trying to gather proof.””
“Why didn’t Dad tell me?””
“Because he thought you would confront them before he had enough evidence.””
I looked at him.
“And now?””
“Now they know we have it.””
The room became cold.
“What do you mean?””
Ethan pointed toward the window.
A black SUV was parked outside.
My heart stopped.
“How long has that been there?””
“Twenty minutes.””
I moved toward the window.
The vehicle slowly pulled away.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One message.
A photo.
It showed Toby leaving Clara’s apartment earlier that day.
Someone had been following my son.
Under the photo were five words:
*“Stop looking for answers, Mark.””*
I stared at the screen.
May you like
Then another message appeared.
*“Or you’ll lose what’s left of your family.””*
