For The Pain You Caused

The Man Who Died

The room went completely still.

Uncle Badmus stood in front of me.

Alive.

Not a memory.

Not a ghost.

Not a face from an old photograph.

A living man was standing inside Damian apartment, looking at me with the same eyes I had seen in photographs from years ago.

My hands were shaking.

I could barely breathe.

I looked at Damian.

He was staring at Uncle Badmus too, his face hard and unreadable.

Neither of us spoke.

Uncle Badmus slowly closed the door behind him.

The click of the lock sounded louder than it should have.

You thought I was dead, he said.

My throat tightened.

You were dead.

His expression changed.

No. I was supposed to be dead.

I stared at him.

What does that even mean?

Uncle Badmus walked farther into the room.

I needed Victor Dampson to believe I was dead.

The name alone made the air feel heavier.

Victor.

Everything always came back to Victor.

My father.

Damian.

The evidence.

The messages.

The key.

And now Uncle Badmus.

You faked your death? I asked.

Yes.

My chest rose and fell rapidly.

But I attended your funeral.

Uncle Badmus looked at me for a long moment.

I know.

I froze.

You know?

He nodded.

Your father told me.

I felt something twist inside my chest.

My father attended your funeral.

He did.

Then how were you alive?

Uncle Badmus looked away.

For the same reason I stayed away from you.

I shook my head.

No. You do not get to answer a question with another mystery. I want the truth.

You are not ready for the truth.

I have spent the last few days discovering that everyone around me has been lying.

My voice broke.

My father lied. Damian lied. You disappeared. Victor has been hiding things. And now you walk into this room after everyone told me you were dead.

I stepped closer to him.

So tell me what really happened.

Uncle Badmus looked at Damian.

Then back at me.

Your father believed I was dead.

The words hit differently.

I stared at him.

He believed?

Yes.

How?

Because I made sure he did.

I frowned.

Uncle Badmus took a slow breath.

Seven years ago, I needed to disappear. Victor had begun looking for me. He knew I had information about him. He knew I had been working with your father. He knew there were documents we had found.

So you staged your death.

Yes.

And my father believed it?

For a while.

I swallowed.

Then why did he attend your funeral?

Because the funeral was real.

My eyes widened.

Badmus continued.

The body buried at that funeral was not mine.

Silence.

I felt cold all over.

My father had stood beside a grave believing he was saying goodbye to a man who had already been murdered.

But Uncle Badmus had been alive.

Watching from somewhere.

Hidden.

Waiting.

Who was in the coffin? I whispered.

Uncle Badmus did not answer immediately.

That is not the most important question.

It is important to me.

I know.

Then answer me.

His eyes darkened.

I cannot.

Why?

Because knowing who was in that coffin would tell you who helped me disappear.

I stared at him.

And that person is still alive?

Uncle Badmus said nothing.

That was answer enough.

My heart began beating faster.

Damian finally spoke.

You should have told her.

Uncle Badmus turned toward him.

I could not.

You could have.

And what would you have done if I had?

Damian stepped forward.

I would have made sure she stayed out of it.

Badmus gave a bitter smile.

You already failed at that.

Damian jaw tightened.

I looked between them.

You both knew.

Neither answered.

You both knew Badmus was alive?

Damian looked at me.

I knew he was alive.

My stomach dropped.

And you never told me?

I could not.

You could not?

I was trying to protect you.

I laughed bitterly.

Everyone keeps using that excuse.

Damian moved toward me.

Amara.

Do not.

He stopped.

I looked back at Uncle Badmus.

You were there.

His face changed.

I knew I had reached the question that mattered.

When my father was attacked.

Uncle Badmus said nothing.

You were there, were you not?

His silence answered me.

You saw him.

Yes.

My breath caught.

The room seemed to shrink around me.

You saw my father that night.

Yes.

Then tell me what happened.

Uncle Badmus lowered his eyes.

Your father was on his way to meet Damian.

I know.

He was carrying something.

The evidence.

Yes.

He was supposed to leave the country with Damian.

Yes.

And you knew?

I knew.

I felt anger rising again.

Then why did you not stop him?

Uncle Badmus looked directly at me.

Because I was trying to stop something much worse.

What?

Victor had already discovered that your father was planning to disappear.

Damian looked away.

Uncle Badmus continued.

Your father was being watched.

By Victor?

Not only Victor.

My heart sank.

Who else?

Uncle Badmus did not answer.

Who was with him?

He hesitated.

I remembered Damian words from the night before.

There was another person there.

Someone had been with my father when he was attacked.

Someone Damian had seen.

Someone connected to the black Mercedes.

My voice dropped.

You.

Uncle Badmus nodded.

Yes.

My stomach turned.

You were there when he was attacked.

Yes.

And you watched?

No.

Then what did you do?

I tried to get to him.

Did you help him?

I tried.

Did you save him?

Uncle Badmus looked away.

No.

The answer broke something inside me.

I closed my eyes.

For six years, I had believed my father died because Victor wanted him dead.

Now I was standing in front of a man who had been there.

A man who had known.

A man who had disappeared.

A man whose funeral my father had attended before his own death.

You said my father was not alone.

He was not.

Who was with him?

Uncle Badmus jaw tightened.

Someone he trusted.

My heart stopped for a second.

The same person?

Yes.

The person who betrayed him?

Yes.

I remembered the photograph.

My father standing beside Badmus.

The name written on the back.

The photograph Damian had shown me.

I looked at him.

You.

Badmus eyes remained fixed on mine.

I was not the person who betrayed him.

Then who was?

He believed it was me.

My chest tightened.

What?

Your father had reasons to believe I betrayed him.

Did you?

No.

Then why did he believe it?

Because someone wanted him to.

Damian suddenly moved closer.

Uncle Badmus.

Uncle Badmus looked at him.

You are saying someone framed you?

I am saying someone used both of us.

Who?

Uncle Badmus looked at me.

That is what your father spent his final days trying to discover.

My hands curled into fists.

My father knew you were alive?

Yes.

When?

After the funeral.

I stared at him.

So my father discovered you had faked your death?

Yes.

And instead of exposing you, he worked with you again?

Yes.

Why?

Because by then he knew the danger was bigger than Victor.

I felt a chill.

What danger?

Uncle Badmus did not answer.

I stepped closer.

You keep saying that. Bigger than Victor. Someone else. Another danger. Another person. But nobody will tell me what it is.

Uncle Badmus looked exhausted.

Because once you know, you cannot go back”

I already cannot go back.

His eyes softened.

You are your father daughter.

I looked away.

I do not know whether that is a compliment anymore.

It is not meant to be.

I looked back at him.

What did my father leave behind?

Uncle Badmus eyes shifted toward the table.

The old phone.

The photograph.

The silver key.

The number engraved on it.

17.

My pulse quickened.

You know about the key.

Yes.

What is inside Vault 17?

Uncle Badmus went completely still.

That reaction told me everything.

You know.

Yes.

What is it?

He did not answer.

I took the key from my pocket and held it up.

This belongs to Vault 17, does it not?

Uncle Badmus stared at it.

His face lost what little color it had.

Where did you get that?

Nia gave it to me.

His eyes widened.

Nia?

My father gave it to her.

Uncle Badmus took one step toward me.

Your father gave Nia that key?

Yes.

When?

The night he died.

Uncle Badmus closed his eyes.

For the first time since he entered the room, he looked genuinely afraid.

What is inside Vault 17? I asked again.

He looked at Damian.

Damian was staring at him.

You knew she had it? Uncle Badmus asked.

No.

Uncle Badmus shook his head slowly.

Then he planned this carefully.

Who?

Your father.

I felt my heartbeat in my ears.

Uncle Badmus looked at the key again.

He knew he would not survive.

You said he was alive for two days after the attack.

Yes.

Then he knew he was going to die?

He knew there was a possibility.

And he left the key for me?

Yes.

Why?

UnvyBadmus took a long breath.

Because there was something he wanted you to find.

What?

He looked directly into my eyes.

The truth.

I almost laughed.

The truth about what?

About his death.

Silence.

My fingers tightened around the key.

You said Victor was not the person who killed him.

I did.

Then who killed my father?

Uncle Badmus looked away.

I do not know.

You were there.

I saw the attack.

Then you must know.

I saw the beginning.

What happened after?

I was forced to leave.

By who?

Uncle Badmus hesitated.

That is the part your father never told you.

My breathing became shallow.

Tell me.

He was attacked by more than one person.

I froze.

What?

There were three people.

Three.

The number echoed inside my head.

Victor?

Uncle Badmus shook his head.