Chapter 16 - The Voice Inside The Fire
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
The entire room felt frozen.
Because some truths are impossible to understand immediately.
Your mind rejects them.
It searches for another explanation.
Another possibility.
Another person.
Anything except the thing standing directly in front of you.
I looked at Ewan.
“The voice was mine?”
My brother did not answer.
That was the answer.
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“You’re wrong.”
Ewan looked at me with pain in his eyes.
“I wish I was.”
“You said I gave the order.”
“I said the recording sounded like you.”
“That is impossible.”
My voice became louder.
“I was not there.”
Ewan stayed silent.
I looked at my grandmother.
Then Victor.
Then Celeste.
Everyone was watching me.
Like they had been waiting for this moment.
Like this was the final piece of a puzzle they already understood.
“What is on that recording?”
Ewan reached inside his coat.
He removed a small device.
Old.
Damaged.
Something that looked like it had survived years hidden away.
“The truth.”
I stared at it.
“Play it.”
Ewan looked at my mother.
She closed her eyes.
A silent warning.
But I was done being protected.
I was done being the person everyone lied to because they thought I could not handle the truth.
“Play it.”
Ewan pressed the button.
Static filled the room.
Then voices.
The first voice was my father.
Elias Moretti.
My chest tightened.
I had not heard him in eleven years.
“Ewan cannot leave with those documents.”
Silence.
Then another voice.
A younger voice.
My own.
“No.”
My blood went cold.
Because it was me.
Not exactly.
But close enough.
A recording.
A conversation.
A memory I did not have.
My voice continued.
“He is my brother.”
My father answered.
“That is why you are the only one who can stop him.”
The recording ended.
Nobody spoke.
I looked at Ewan.
“What was that?”
He looked devastated.
“That was the night before Pier 44.”
“No.”
“It was.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“My father was manipulating someone.”
“Yes.”
“Someone who sounded like me.”
Ewan looked at me.
“Gabriel.”
I stepped back.
“Tell me the truth.”
He looked away.
“I am.”
“No.”
My voice cracked.
“You are telling me a version.”
The room was silent.
Because everyone knew.
I needed more.
Not pieces.
Not secrets.
Everything.
---
My mother slowly moved her hand.
She wanted the notebook.
I gave it to her.
Her fingers shook as she wrote.
Then she turned the notebook toward me.
The words were uneven.
But clear.
Gabriel.
You were there.
I stared.
The room disappeared.
“What?”
My mother looked at me.
You were there.
I shook my head.
“No.”
She continued writing.
You do not remember because your father made sure you forgot.
My breathing changed.
My father erased my memory?
That was impossible.
People cannot simply erase years of someone’s life.
But then I remembered.
The missing hours.
The strange gaps.
The memories that never made sense.
The nightmares.
The fire.
The smell of smoke.
A door.
A voice.
Someone screaming.
I had always believed those were dreams.
Maybe they were memories.
---
Ewan sat across from me.
“You were twelve.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“You were twelve years old.”
The room became silent.
“When?”
“The night our father died.”
I stared.
“I was there?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t I remember?”
“Because you saw something you were never supposed to see.”
My hands became cold.
“What?”
Ewan looked at me.
“You saw our father arguing with someone.”
“Who?”
His eyes moved toward my grandmother.
Then Vincent.
Then Victor.
Finally back to me.
“He was not giving orders.”
“He was receiving them.”
I froze.
“What?”
“The recording was manipulated.”
Silence.
“What?”
Ewan nodded.
“Someone edited the conversation.”
My anger returned.
“Who?”
“The same person who controlled everything.”
I looked at my grandmother.
She did not move.
She already knew.
“You.”
Her expression remained calm.
“No.”
“Then who?”
She looked at Victor.
And for the first time…
Victor looked afraid.
---
Celeste stepped forward.
“Gabriel.”
I looked at her.
“Your father tried to stop them.”
I stared.
“Who?”
“The people who wanted control.”
“Then why did everyone believe he was guilty?”
“Because someone needed a dead man to carry the blame.”
My mind raced.
My father.
Ewan.
Pier 44.
The fire.
The recording.
Everything had been designed.
Someone had created a story.
And my family had spent years living inside it.
“Where is the original recording?”
Ewan looked at me.
“I have it.”
“Play it.”
He hesitated.
“Gabriel.”
“Play it.”
He pressed another button.
Static.
Then a different voice.
A voice I had never expected.
A voice I recognized instantly.
Because it belonged to someone who had spent years pretending to protect me.
Vincent Moretti.
The recording began.
“Elias, you do not understand what you are creating.”
My father answered.
“I understand exactly.”
Vincent continued.
“You cannot give Gabriel control.”
A pause.
“Not yet.”
My heart stopped.
My father answered.
“He is my son.”
Vincent’s voice became colder.
“He is a weapon.”
Silence.
Then my father said:
“No.”
A pause.
“He is the only person who can end this.”
The recording ended.
I stood completely still.
Because suddenly everything changed.
My father did not create a monster.
He was trying to prevent one.
Someone else had been shaping my life.
Someone else had been controlling every move.
And that person was still standing in front of me.
My grandmother.
But before I could speak…
The estate alarms began screaming.
Matteo ran into the room.
“Boss.”
I turned.
“What happened?”
His face was pale.
“The underground vault was opened.”
My expression changed.
“That is impossible.”
“No one has the code.”
“Who opened it?”
Matteo looked at me.
“The system recognized the owner.”
I waited.
“Whose identity?”
He swallowed.
“Elias Moretti.”
My dead father.
I looked at Ewan.
Then my mother.
Then the others.
And I understood.
The final secret my father hid…
Was not inside the vault.
The vault itself was waiting for him.
And somehow…
May you like
After eleven years…
My father had just returned.
