......... ............. .........
I stood on the porch long after Damon Black disappeared into the dark.
His words kept replaying inside my head.
"I did".
He killed my father.
Then why had he brought me the letter?
Why warn me?
And why had my father trusted him?
My hands were still trembling when I finally stepped back inside and locked the door.
Twice.
I leaned against it, trying to slow my breathing.
This had to be some kind of mistake.
My father had died in a car accident.
Everyone knew that.
My mother had cried beside his hospital bed. The police had investigated. The funeral had happened.
There had been a coffin.
There had been a burial.
There had been three years of silence.
So why was a stranger standing at my door tonight, telling me everything I knew was a lie?
I looked down at the envelope.
My father's handwriting stared back at me.
Elena.
Just my name.
I carried it to the kitchen and placed it on the table.
For several seconds, I couldn't bring myself to open it.
Then I remembered Damon's warning.
Once you read what's inside, your life will never be the same.
I almost laughed.
My life had already changed.
I tore the envelope open.
Inside was a single folded sheet of paper.
My father's handwriting covered the page.
"My dearest Elena,
If you're reading this, then I'm already gone".
I stopped.
My eyes blurred.
I wiped them quickly and continued.
"There are things about my life I never told you. Things I wanted to leave behind so you could have a normal future.
I failed".
My fingers tightened around the paper.
"Whatever happens, do not trust anyone who tells you they know the truth about my death.
Especially Damon Black".
My heart stopped.
I read the sentence again.
Then again.
"Especially Damon Black".
A loud sound came from outside.
I jumped.
The paper slipped from my fingers.
I hurried toward the window and pulled the curtain aside.
Nothing.
Just the empty street.
I exhaled.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I stared at the screen.
A message appeared.
STOP READING THE LETTER.
My blood ran cold immediately.
Another message arrived.
OR YOU'LL END UP LIKE YOUR FATHER.
I dropped the phone.
Someone was watching me.
I backed away from the window.
The lights suddenly went out.
The entire house plunged into darkness.
I froze.
Then I heard it.
A sound from upstairs.
A floorboard creaking.
Someone was inside my house.
I grabbed the nearest object—a heavy glass vase—and held it tightly.
Another creak.
Closer this time.
I couldn't breathe.
“Who's there?”
No answer.
I moved toward the staircase.
Then a shadow appeared at the top.
My heart nearly stopped.
The figure started walking down.
One step.
Two.
Three.
I raised the vase.
“Don't come any closer!”
The figure stopped.
A familiar voice came from the darkness.
“Put that down, Elena.”
I knew that voice.
My stomach dropped.
“Damon?”
He stepped into the faint light coming through the window.
His black jacket was gone.
There was a small cut above his eyebrow.
And in his hand was a gun.
I stared at him.
“You broke into my house.”
“No.”
He glanced toward the front door.
“I came through the back.”
“That doesn't make it better!”
His expression remained serious.
“Who texted you?”
I didn't answer.
His eyes moved toward the table.
Toward my father's letter.
Then his entire expression changed.
“What did you read?”
I swallowed.
“Why?”
“Because if you read the last page—”
“There is no last page.”
Damon went completely still.
I frowned.
“What?”
He looked at the letter.
Then at me.
Slowly, he lowered his gun.
“Elena…”
“What?”
His voice became quieter.
“Your father didn't write that letter.”
I stared at him.
“What are you talking about?”
He walked toward the table and picked up the paper.
He studied the handwriting for several seconds.
Then he looked at me.
“Because I watched your father write his real final letter.”
My heart sank.
“And this isn't it.”
The room went silent.
I looked at the paper in his hand.
Then at Damon.
“Then who wrote this?”
Damon's eyes hardened.
“I don't know.”
A sudden crash came from the kitchen.
We both turned.
Damon immediately stepped in front of me.
His hand reached for his gun.
And from somewhere inside the darkness came a whisper.
“She's not supposed to know yet.”