Chapter 5: The House
1852 Words
The entire drive home, I couldn't stop thinking about the photograph.
My mother.
The night she died.
A photograph that supposedly shouldn't exist.
My hands were cold despite the warmth inside the car.
Ethan sat beside me, unusually silent.
The city lights passed across his face as we drove.
I finally broke the silence.
“What exactly did the police say?”
“They haven't arrived yet.”
“Then how do you know someone broke into my house?”
“My security team noticed the damage.”
“Your security team?”
“I had someone watching your house.”
I turned toward him.
“You what?”
“After tonight, I wasn't taking chances.”
“You don't get to put people around my house without telling me.”
“I do when someone is sending you threats.”
“That doesn't make it okay.”
“I didn't say it did.”
His answer was frustratingly calm.
I looked out the window.
“What if they hurt someone?”
“They didn't.”
“How do you know?”
“Because your neighbor called my security team when she noticed the broken window.”
I sighed.
At least no one had been hurt.
But that didn't make me feel safer.
It made me feel worse.
Someone had entered my home.
Someone had searched through the place where I had grown up.
And I had no idea why.
When we finally arrived, I immediately noticed the police vehicles outside.
My heart sank.
I jumped out before Ethan could stop me.
“Mia.”
I ignored him.
I ran toward the front door.
The lock was broken.
Glass covered the floor near the entrance.
I froze.
This was my home.
The same house where my mother used to sing while cooking.
The same hallway where I had taken my first steps.
Now it looked like a stranger had invaded it.
A police officer approached.
“Miss Carter?”
“Yes.”
“Are you the owner?”
“Yes.”
“You should stay outside until we've finished checking the property.”
“Did you find anyone?”
“No.”
“Was anything stolen?”
“We're still determining that.”
I looked at Ethan.
He was speaking quietly with another officer.
I didn't like how naturally he seemed to belong in situations like this.
Then something occurred to me.
“My mother's things.”
The officer looked at me.
“What about them?”
“Her old documents.”
“Were they in the house?”
“Yes.”
I rushed toward the stairs.
“Mia!”
Ethan followed.
I reached my mother's bedroom.
The door was open.
Everything had been thrown around.
Drawers pulled out.
Clothes scattered across the floor.
Books ripped from shelves.
I stood there in shock.
“They were looking for something.”
Ethan walked into the room.
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because they ignored anything valuable.”
I looked around.
My mother's jewelry box was still there.
Her old laptop was untouched.
Even the small amount of cash I'd hidden in a drawer was still there.
“They weren't here to steal.”
“No.”
“They were searching.”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
Ethan's eyes moved around the room.
“Something your mother kept hidden.”
I walked toward her desk.
“My mother didn't have secrets.”
Ethan gave me a look.
“You're starting to realize that isn't true.”
I hated that he was right.
I opened the desk drawers.
Nothing.
Then I noticed the bottom drawer wasn't completely closed.
I pulled it open.
Inside were several old notebooks.
My mother's handwriting covered the first page of each one.
I picked up the oldest.
Ethan immediately stepped closer.
“What is that?”
“My mother's journal.”
“Don't open it.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because if someone broke into this house searching for something, that journal might be what they wanted.”
“Exactly.”
I opened it.
The first few pages were ordinary.
Shopping lists.
Appointments.
Notes about work.
Then the entries changed.
September 3, 2009
I found another discrepancy in the company records.
I don't know who I can trust anymore.
I turned the page.
September 8, 2009
Someone followed me home tonight.
I think they know what I'm investigating.
My breathing became shallow.
I turned another page.
September 15, 2009
If anything happens to me, I need to make sure Mia is protected.
My eyes blurred.
I swallowed hard.
“She knew.”
Ethan stood behind me.
“Knew what?”
“That she was in danger.”
He didn't answer.
I kept reading.
The next several pages had been torn out.
I flipped through the remaining pages.
More were missing.
“Someone removed them.”
Ethan nodded.
“Recently?”
I examined the torn edges.
“Yes.”
He looked toward the broken window.
“They weren't searching randomly.”
I closed the journal.
“What did my mother find?”
Ethan's phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
“Excuse me.”
He walked away.
I watched him answer.
“Yes?”
His expression changed.
“What?”
He listened.
“Send it to me.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?”
He looked at me.
“My security team found something outside.”
“What?”
He didn't answer.
We went downstairs.
One of his security officers was waiting near the entrance.
He handed Ethan a small evidence bag.
Inside was a key.
I frowned.
“What is that?”
“It was found near the back door.”
Ethan looked at it carefully.
Then he turned the key over.
There was a tiny number engraved on it.
217.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
I reached for the bag.
Ethan stopped me.
“Don't touch it.”
“Why?”
“Evidence.”
I sighed.
“Right.”
Then I remembered something.
“Wait.”
I ran upstairs.
I opened my mother's journal again.
At the bottom of one page, beneath several crossed-out words, was a number.
217.
My heart stopped.
I called Ethan.
“Come here.”
He entered the room.
I pointed at the page.
His eyes narrowed.
“The same number.”
“Exactly.”
He looked at the key.
“Where did you find this?”
“Near the back door.”
He was silent.
“What do you think it opens?”
“I don't know.”
“Then we need to find out.”
“No.”
I frowned.
“Why not?”
“Because whoever left that key wanted you to find it.”
“So?”
“So it could be a trap.”
I closed the journal.
“Everything is a trap according to you.”
“Because someone is trying to manipulate you.”
“And you're not?”
He looked at me.
The question seemed to catch him off guard.
“I'm trying to protect you.”
“Why?”
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he said quietly, “Because I owe your mother.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
Before he could answer, one of the officers called his name.
“Mr. Black.”
Ethan turned.
The officer was holding another evidence bag.
“There was something else.”
He handed it over.
Inside was a small black flash drive.
My name was written on it.
MIA.
My heart began pounding.
“What is that?”
The officer looked at Ethan.
“We found it hidden behind the loose panel in the bedroom.”
Ethan's face became unreadable.
I reached for it.
“Don't.”
I stopped.
“Why?”
“Because we don't know what's on it.”
“Then let's find out.”
“We'll have someone examine it.”
“No.”
“Mia—”
“It has my name on it.”
I took a step toward him.
“If my mother left something for me, I want to know what it is.”
He stared at me for several seconds.
Then he nodded.
“Fine.”
We went into the living room.
Ethan connected the drive to his laptop.
A single folder appeared.
No password.
No files.
Just one video.
My heart pounded as Ethan clicked it.
The screen went black.
Then my mother's face appeared.
She was sitting in what looked like an office.
She looked younger.
Terrified.
I covered my mouth.
“Mom…”
Her eyes stared directly into the camera.
“If you're watching this,” she said, “then something has happened to me.”
I couldn't breathe.
Ethan stared at the screen.
My mother's voice continued.
“There is something you need to know about the Black family.”
The video suddenly froze.
Then the screen went black.
A message appeared.
FILE CORRUPTED.
I stared at it in disbelief.
“No.”
I tried clicking the video again.
Nothing.
Ethan took the laptop.
“Someone did this remotely.”
“Can you recover it?”
“Maybe.”
“Then do it.”
“I will.”
I looked at the frozen screen.
My mother's final message echoed in my mind.
There was something I needed to know about the Black family.
And suddenly, I understood why Ethan had been so desperate to keep me away from the truth.
I turned toward him.
“You knew my mother was investigating your family.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she was afraid.”
“Yes.”
“You knew someone might have killed her.”
His silence answered me.
“And you still made me sign a contract with you.”
Ethan looked at me.
“I had no choice.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
He stepped closer.
“Mia—”
“Don't.”
I walked away.
Then my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One message.
STOP LOOKING FOR THE TRUTH.
A second message appeared.
OR YOU'LL END UP LIKE YOUR MOTHER.
I stared at the screen.
Behind me, Ethan saw the messages.
His expression changed instantly.
“We're leaving.”
I turned.
“Where?”
“My house.”
“No.”
“Mia, listen to me.”
“I don't want to go anywhere with you.”
He looked at me seriously.
“Your house is no longer safe.”
I wanted to argue.
But then I heard something outside.
A car engine.
I looked toward the window.
A dark vehicle was parked across the street.
The headlights switched on.
Then the car sped away.
Ethan grabbed his phone.
“Security.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
His face was grim.
“That car has been following us since the hotel.”
My blood ran cold.
And for the first time, I realized something.
The person who wanted me to stop searching wasn't just watching me.
They had been watching Ethan too.
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