The Secret of Melina

The last message

The interrogation room was white. Too white.

Fluorescent lights buzzed above me. A table. Two chairs. One mirror that I knew was a two-way glass.

I hadn’t spoken in an hour.

The USB drive was in my palm. Small. Cold. Hidden under the table.

My dad’s last message.

A detective finally came in. Male. Late 40s. Tired eyes.

"Miss Johnson," he said. "Or should I say, Miss Cole?"

I said nothing.

He sat down and slid a folder across the table. Photos. The estate. The piano. Beatrice’s body.

"We found a USB in the piano," he lied. "But it was corrupted. Nothing on it."

My heart jumped. He was lying. They didn’t have it.

"Care to tell me what happened out there?" he asked.

I looked up. "I want my lawyer. And Damian’s lawyer."

"You don’t have a lawyer."

"I want Damian’s."

The detective sighed. "Fine. But let me tell you something first. Damian Blackwood is being charged with illegal possession of a firearm, tampering with a crime scene, and obstruction. Tasha Miller is being charged with attempted murder."

I flinched at attempted murder.

"And you," he continued, "are a material witness. Unless you tell us why you were at that house."

I swallowed. "My aunt left me something there. Before she died."

"And what was that?"

"The truth."

He leaned forward. "About what?"

About how my father murdered my mother. About how Damian saved me. About how for 10 years I lived a lie.

But I couldn’t say it. Not with that USB in my hand.

"I don’t remember," I whispered. "I had amnesia."

The detective stared at me. Then stood. "We’ll be in touch."

He left. The door locked behind him.

I had 10 minutes before they came back. I could feel it.

My hands shook as I pulled out the USB. Where do I plug it in? There was nothing in here.

Then I remembered. Damian’s lawyer. He said "call him."

But my phone was confiscated.

Think, Amara. Think.

The air vent. High on the wall. Old building.

I dragged the chair over, stood on it, and pried the vent open with my fingernails. Inside, I shoved the USB.

If they searched me, they wouldn’t find it.

If Damian got out, he’d know to look.

The door opened. Two officers. "Time to go. You’re being released to Blackwood Corp legal team."

Released?

Damian’s lawyer was a sharp woman in a black suit. Ms. Adele.

"Don’t talk," she said the second she saw me. "Not in the car. Not anywhere."

We drove in silence to Blackwood Tower. The same place where Tasha’s wedding was supposed to be.

Damian was in a conference room. No cuffs. But he looked wrecked. Hair messy. 3 days of stubble.

"Amara," he stood when he saw me. "Are you okay?"

I nodded. Then broke.

He caught me. Held me while I cried for Beatrice. For my parents. For 10 lost years.

When I pulled back, Ms. Adele cleared her throat. "We have 24 hours before the police can charge you both. The DA wants this to go away quietly. But Tasha’s father is pushing."

"What about the report?" Damian asked. "The envelope?"

"Confiscated as evidence." She looked at me. "Did you see anything else at the estate?"

I almost said USB. But I didn’t.

I shook my head. "No."

Damian’s eyes narrowed. He knew I was lying. But he didn’t push.

"Then we need to get ahead of this," Ms. Adele said. "We leak the real story first. That Richard Cole committed insurance fraud and arson. That Beatrice was a victim too. That you, Amara, are the rightful heir to Cole Holdings."

"I don’t want the company," I said.

"You don’t have a choice." Damian sat down. "If we don’t claim it, Tasha’s dad will. And he’ll bury everything."

I stared at my hands. "What if my dad... what if he had a reason?"

"There is no reason good enough to kill your wife," Damian said quietly.

That night I stayed at the apartment. Alone.

I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the USB.

At 3am I gave up. I took a taxi back to the police station.

The night guard recognized me. "You forgot something?"

"I think so." I smiled weakly. "In interrogation room 2."

He let me in.

I climbed the chair, reached into the vent, and pulled out the USB.

My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped it.

Back at the apartment, Damian was asleep on the couch. I didn’t wake him.

I plugged the USB into my laptop.

One file. For h***:://Amara.mp4

I clicked it.

The screen flickered.

My dad appeared. Younger. Tired. He was in his office.

"Amara, if you’re seeing this, then I’m gone. And I’m so sorry."

My breath caught.

"I did something terrible. The company was $40 million in debt. The board was going to press charges. Fraud. I panicked. I took money from the insurance and... I started the fire."

Tears were already falling.

"But I didn’t mean for your mother to be in there. She came back for you. I screamed for her to run. She didn’t. And then the roof—"

He broke down.

"I called Beatrice. She was the only one I trusted. I told her to take you and run. To change your name. To keep you safe from the board. From me. From what I did."

"Damian found you that night. He’s a good kid. Better than me. Let him help you, Amara. Don’t trust anyone else. Especially not the Millers. They knew. They helped cover it up for a cut of the insurance."

The video ended.

I sat there, shaking.

So it was true. My dad killed my mom.

And the Millers helped.

Damian stirred on the couch. "Amara?"

I turned the laptop to him. "Watch."

He did. His face went hard.

"Son of a b***h," he whispered. "The Millers."

He looked at me. "We have to give this to the police. Tonight."

"And say what? That I stole evidence?"

"I’ll take the blame." He stood. "Come on."

We were halfway to the door when it burst open.

Tasha’s dad. Mr. Miller. And two men behind him.

"Going somewhere?" he asked. He looked at the laptop on the table. "Ah. You found it."

"Get out," Damian said.

"Or what? You’ll shoot me too?" Mr. Miller smiled. "Tasha told me everything. About the USB. About the video. Hand it over, and no one gets hurt."

Damian stepped in front of me. "Touch her and I’ll—"

"Damian, stop." I put a hand on his back. My voice was steady. "Mr. Miller, you can have the laptop."

I picked it up.

He reached for it.

I smashed it against the table. Once. Twice. The screen cracked. Sparks flew.

"What did you do?!" he yelled.

"I deleted it." I lied. "There’s a backup. In the cloud. And if anything happens to me or Damian, it goes to every news site in the country."

Silence.

Mr. Miller’s face turned red. "You stupid little—"

The door opened again.

Police.

Ms. Adele walked in behind them. "Mr. Miller. You’re under arrest for obstruction, conspiracy, and attempted coercion."

He was dragged out, screaming.

I collapsed. Damian caught me.

"It’s over," he whispered in my hair. "It’s finally over."

I looked at the broken laptop. At the real USB still hidden in my pocket.

No. It wasn’t over.

Because in the video, my dad said one last thing before it cut off:

_"There’s one more thing you need to know, Amara. About who really pulled the trigger that night..