CHAPTER 9 – The Call from the Past
The old executive phone continued to ring.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Its sharp sound echoed through the silent ballroom.
Every person stared at the antique black telephone sitting on a small mahogany table near the stage.
Samuel's face had gone completely white.
"It can't be..."
he whispered.
"I unplugged that phone myself twelve years ago."
Detective Laura Bennett frowned.
"Phones don't ring by themselves."
She motioned to one of her officers.
"Check the line."
The officer picked up the receiver.
There was no dial tone.
He looked confused.
"It's dead."
The phone rang again.
Even though the receiver was in his hand.
The officer instinctively dropped it.
Richard walked slowly toward the table.
His security team immediately surrounded him.
"Sir, it could be a distraction."
Richard nodded.
"I know."
He reached for the receiver.
The ringing stopped.
The room became eerily quiet.
Richard lifted the handset.
"This is Richard Ashford."
For several seconds...
Nothing.
Only static.
Then an elderly man's voice came through the speaker.
Calm.
Weak.
Yet unmistakable.
"Richard..."
Richard's face drained of color.
"Theodore?"
The entire ballroom froze.
Vivienne's heart began pounding.
Theodore Hawthorne had been declared dead twelve years ago.
Yet Richard clearly recognized the voice.
The voice continued.
"If you're hearing this..."
"...then Vivienne finally called you."
Richard gripped the receiver tighter.
"What is this?"
"An old recording?" Detective Bennett whispered.
The forensic technician shook his head.
"No."
"The signal is live."
Theodore's voice remained steady.
"I don't have much time."
"If the box has been opened..."
"...then someone has already tried to stop you."
Richard looked toward the broken ballroom window.
"They have."
A faint sigh came through the line.
"I expected as much."
Vivienne stepped closer.
"Mr. Hawthorne..."
The voice stopped.
Then softly replied,
"So..."
"You survived."
Everyone looked at Vivienne.
Theodore continued,
"I always prayed you would."
Tears welled in Vivienne's eyes.
"You knew me?"
"I knew of you."
"And I owed you more than you'll ever understand."
Detective Bennett quietly signaled a technician.
"Trace the call."
The technician plugged a device into the phone line.
Seconds later, his eyes widened.
"This isn't possible."
"What?"
"The call..."
"...is coming from inside the hotel."
Security officers immediately spread out.
Richard barked an order.
"Lock down every floor."
"No one leaves."
Elevators were shut down.
Emergency exits were secured.
The entire hotel went into lockdown.
Meanwhile, Theodore's voice continued.
"Richard..."
"The journal explains everything."
"But don't read the last chapter."
"Not yet."
Richard frowned.
"Why?"
"Because someone standing in that ballroom..."
"...is still lying."
Every guest instinctively looked around.
Even Chloe.
Even Eleanor.
The silence became unbearable.
Theodore spoke again.
"The person isn't wearing a mask."
"They never did."
"They've been part of both families for years."
Detective Bennett slowly turned toward Dominic.
Then toward Samuel.
Then Rachel.
Every face suddenly seemed suspicious.
Richard opened the leather journal.
The first page contained only one sentence.
Written in Theodore's unmistakable handwriting:
If you're reading this, one of us failed.
Richard turned another page.
Inside was a family tree.
But it wasn't the Hawthorne family.
Or the Ashford family.
It was both.
Connected by red lines.
Names.
Dates.
Photographs.
And one shocking note written across the center:
The switch was intentional.
Vivienne gasped.
"It wasn't an accident?"
Richard's hands began to shake.
"No..."
He whispered.
"The hospital fire..."
"...was a cover."
Before anyone could react—
The ballroom lights suddenly flickered back on.
Every screen inside the room came alive.
Televisions.
Projectors.
Digital menus.
Without warning...
A live surveillance video filled every display.
The camera showed the hotel's underground parking garage.
A black sedan had just arrived.
Its rear door slowly opened.
An elderly man stepped out, supported by a cane.
His silver hair was longer than it had been in old photographs.
His face was older.
Thinner.
But unmistakable.
Samuel dropped to his knees.
Detective Bennett stared at the screen in disbelief.
Richard whispered the name he never thought he would say again.
"Theodore..."
The man looked directly into the parking garage camera...
Smiled...
And removed his sunglasses.
May you like
The man who had supposedly died twelve years ago...
Had just walked into the hotel.
