Writers 
The Message I Was Never Supposed to Read — Part 4
For a moment, I couldn’t move.
“The person who sent the messages?” I whispered.
Amara nodded.
“Yes.”
“Then who is it?”
“I don’t know.”
I stared at her.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I’m not.”
Another sound came from downstairs.
A cupboard slammed.
Amara grabbed my arm.
“We need to get out of here.”
“No.”
She stopped.
“I’m tired of running from questions, Amara. You knew my mother. You knew Daniel. You were there the night she died. And now you’re telling me someone has been watching me.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
The words came out before she could stop them.
Silence.
I stared at her.
“Keep me alive?”
Amara covered her mouth.
“I didn’t mean—”
“What exactly do you mean?”
She looked toward the desk.
Then at the letter.
“Your mother discovered something before she died. Something she wasn’t supposed to find.”
“What?”
“She found out someone close to your family had been stealing money.”
I frowned.
“That doesn’t explain any of this.”
“It does.”
She stepped closer.
“The person wasn’t stealing ordinary money. They were taking money that belonged to your mother’s business. When she confronted them, they threatened her.”
My heart began beating faster.
“Who?”
Amara shook her head.
“I never found out for sure.”
“Then why were you there that night?”
She looked down.
“Because your mother called me.”
I froze.
“She called you?”
“Yes. She told me to come to the house because she was scared.”
I glanced at the old photograph again.
“And Daniel?”
“He came with me.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid to come alone.”
Before I could respond, my phone vibrated.
UNKNOWN NUMBER:
“You’re asking the right questions. Now look underneath the desk.”
I slowly looked at the wooden desk.
Amara’s face changed.
“Don’t.”
I crouched down.
There was a small metal box taped underneath it.
My fingers trembled as I pulled it free.
A tiny lock sat on the front.
I looked at the key Amara had given me.
It fit perfectly.
Click.
The box opened.
Inside was a flash drive, several photographs, and another handwritten note.
I picked up the note.
Only one sentence was written on it:
“If they tell you I died because of an accident, don’t believe them.”
My breath caught.
I looked at Amara.
She was crying.
“You knew about this?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Then my phone vibrated again.
This time, there was no text.
There was a photograph.
I opened it.
It showed my mother standing outside the house.
Beside her was Daniel.
And behind them…
was someone else.
Someone whose face had been carefully covered.
I zoomed in.
My heart dropped.
I recognized the clothes.
I recognized the watch.
And suddenly, I understood why the unknown person had been warning me.
I looked at Amara.
“Who is that?”
She stared at the photograph.
Then she whispered:
“That’s your father.”
I couldn’t breathe.
My father had been dead for years.
Or at least…
that’s what I’d always been told.
To be continued… 👀
