The truth Thompson hid
1416 Words
The underground gallery suddenly felt suffocating.
Sophia stared at Thompson as silence swallowed the room whole. The stranger’s words echoed endlessly inside her mind.
Ask him how your parents really died.
Her breathing became uneven.
“What does he mean?” she asked again, her voice trembling this time.
Thompson’s jaw tightened.
“Not here.”
“That’s not an answer.”
The man in the gray jacket smirked, clearly enjoying the tension between them.
“You never told her?” he asked mockingly. “That’s cruel, even for you.”
“Leave,” Thompson said coldly.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop with his voice.
The stranger only smiled wider.
“You think hiding her will change anything? She already belongs in this story.”
Before Sophia could speak again, Thompson suddenly grabbed her wrist gently and pulled her behind him.
“Go upstairs,” he told Luna quietly.
Luna looked offended. “Absolutely not.”
“Now.”
Something dangerous flashed in Thompson’s eyes, and for once, Luna obeyed without arguing.
The stranger sighed dramatically.
“You were always dramatic, Thompson.”
“And you always talk too much.”
Everything happened quickly after that.
One of the men beside the stranger reached into his jacket. Thompson reacted instantly, shoving Sophia backward just as a loud gunshot exploded through the gallery.
Sophia screamed.
Glass shattered nearby.
Luna yelled from the stairway.
Thompson moved fast—faster than Sophia expected possible. He tackled the armed man at a table, sending paintings crashing to the floor.
The second man rushed forward.
Chaos erupted.
Sophia stumbled backward, heart pounding violently. Fear clouded her thoughts as shouting echoed through the underground hall.
Then strong hands grabbed her arm.
The man in gray.
“Come with me,” he ordered harshly.
“No!”
She fought against him desperately, panic rising inside her chest.
Suddenly, Thompson appeared.
His fist slammed into the man’s face hard enough to throw him sideways.
“Touch her again,” Thompson growled darkly, “and I’ll bury you beneath this city.”
Sophia had never heard such cold rage in someone’s voice before.
The stranger wiped blood from his lip slowly before laughing softly.
“There he is.”
Sirens echoed faintly somewhere above ground.
The man straightened his jacket calmly.
“This isn’t over, Thompson.”
Then he looked directly at Sophia.
“Your parents weren’t innocent.”
The men disappeared into the darkness moments later.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Terrifying.
Sophia stood frozen while Thompson caught his breath nearby. A small cut above his eyebrow bled slightly, but he ignored it completely.
Luna rushed downstairs immediately.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Are you both insane?”
Sophia couldn’t answer.
Her mind remained trapped in one sentence.
Your parents weren’t innocent.
She turned toward Thompson slowly.
“You knew.”
Thompson looked away.
That was answer enough.
Pain crashed through her chest instantly.
“You knew something about my parents this whole time?”
“Sophia—”
“How long?”
“Three years.”
The words shattered her.
Three years.
For three years, this stranger had known something about the worst moment of her life.
“You don’t get to hide that from me!” she shouted.
Luna stepped back quietly, realizing this was no longer about danger.
This was personal.
Deeply personal.
Thompson approached carefully.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“Stop saying that!”
Her voice echoed painfully through the gallery.
“You don’t get to decide what I can handle!”
For the first time, Thompson looked genuinely affected by her anger.
Not annoyed.
Hurt.
“Sophia,” he said quietly, “your parents were investigating powerful people before they died.”
Her chest tightened.
“What?”
“They worked with financial records connected to Blackwood Gallery.”
She shook her head immediately.
“No. My father was an accountant.”
“Yes,” Thompson answered softly. “An accountant who found evidence of money laundering.”
The room spun slightly around her.
“That’s impossible.”
“I wish it was.”
Sophia backed away from him slowly.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why didn’t the police say anything?”
Thompson’s expression darkened again.
“Because some of the police were involved.”
Fear crawled through her body like ice.
Everything she believed about her parents’ deaths suddenly cracked apart.
The accident.
The investigation closed.
The unanswered questions.
Tears filled her eyes before she could stop them.
“They were murdered?”
Thompson remained silent for half a second too long.
That silence confirmed everything.
Sophia covered her mouth shakily.
“No…”
Luna immediately wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“This is insane,” Luna whispered.
Thompson stepped closer carefully.
“I didn’t tell you because once you know the truth, they’ll never stop watching you.”
Sophia looked at him through tears.
“And now?”
“They know you’re connected to me.”
Fear mixed with anger inside her chest.
“Why were you watching me?”
Thompson hesitated.
Then finally answered honestly.
“Because your father trusted mine.”
That surprised her completely.
“What?”
“Before your parents died, your father gave my father evidence against Blackwood Gallery.”
Sophia stared at him in disbelief.
“My father knew your family?”
“Yes.”
“Then where is the evidence now?”
Thompson’s eyes lowered slightly.
“My father hid it before he died.”
Another shock.
“Your father is dead?”
“He died a year after yours.”
Something painful passed briefly across Thompson’s face.
For the first time, Sophia realized his coldness wasn’t arrogance.
It was grief.
The same grief she carried every day.
Suddenly, many things about him made sense.
The distance.
The anger.
The loneliness in his eyes.
“You’ve been trying to finish what they started,” Sophia realized softly.
Thompson looked at her quietly.
“Yes.”
The room fell silent again.
Luna glanced nervously toward the exit.
“I think we should leave before more psychopaths arrive.”
Normally, Sophia would have agreed immediately.
But her emotions felt tangled now.
Nothing about Thompson was simple anymore.
He had lied to her.
Hidden things from her.
Watched her from afar.
Yet somehow, she no longer believed he intended to hurt her.
That frightened her most of all.
Because trusting him felt dangerous.
But losing him suddenly felt worse.
An hour later, Thompson drove them back through the city.
Rain streaked across the windshield while soft music played quietly through the speakers.
Luna sat asleep in the backseat after emotionally exhausting herself with panic.
Sophia stared silently out the window.
Thompson finally spoke.
“You hate me now.”
It wasn’t a question.
She looked down at her hands.
“I don’t know what I feel.”
“That’s fair.”
“You should’ve told me.”
“I know.”
She glanced at the cut above his eyebrow.
“It’s bleeding.”
“I’ll survive.”
Sophia reached into her bag quietly and handed him tissues.
Their fingers brushed briefly.
The contact sent unexpected warmth through her chest.
Thompson noticed it too.
The silence between them changed instantly.
Softer now.
More dangerous somehow.
“Sophia,” he said quietly, “you should stay away from me.”
Her brows furrowed slightly.
“Why?”
His grip tightened on the steering wheel.
“Because people around me get hurt.”
Something in his voice sounded painfully genuine.
Sophia studied his face carefully beneath the passing streetlights.
“You really believe that.”
“Yes.”
She looked away again.
Maybe he was right.
But even now, after everything she learned tonight, one truth remains impossible to ignore.
She wasn’t afraid of Thompson Greg.
She was afraid of how much she wanted to understand him.
As the car stopped outside her apartment building, neither of them moved immediately.
Rain continued falling softly outside.
Then Thompson spoke again.
“There’s one more thing.”
Sophia looked at him.
“The evidence my father hid?”
“Yes?”
“He left clues before he died.”
Her heartbeat quicke
ned.
“What kind of clues?”
Thompson reached into his coat pocket slowly and handed her an old silver key.
On it was engraved a single letter.
S.
“Sophia,” he whispered, “Your father left this for you.”
- Writer
