Chapter 10 - The Hidden Truth
Three weeks passed, and life successfully returned to a comfortable, ordinary routine.
Dorothy’s damaged house was beautifully repaired, and she spent her days baking cookies just like she used to.
Alex stopped by every Sunday for dinner, no longer a bodyguard, but a genuinely welcomed friend.
The lingering pain in my side served as a reminder of the ultimate victory we had all achieved together.
I spent my quiet weekend afternoons cleaning out my dusty attic to make room for Dorothy’s antique furniture.
The heavy wooden floorboards creaked softly as I carried a large box toward the back corner.
My foot caught on a loose, uneven plank, causing me to stumble and drop the heavy box.
The wooden floorboard cracked completely open under the sudden pressure, revealing a dark, hidden cavity.
I knelt down and pulled a small, rusted metal lockbox out from the shadows of the floor.
My own full name was deeply and deliberately engraved onto the metal lid of the box.
I grabbed a flathead screwdriver from my pocket and forcefully pried the rusted lock apart.
Inside the box was a photograph of Dorothy and the corrupt police chief smiling and shaking hands warmly.
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Beneath the photograph was a handwritten letter signed by my father, who had supposedly died twenty years ago.
The chilling ink on the paper read, "If you are reading this, they have successfully wiped your memory of who you truly are."
