Chapter 7: The Boy in the Photograph
The photograph on my phone was impossible.
I knew that immediately.
Not because it looked fake.
Because it looked real.
Too real.
The image showed me twenty years ago.
Sixteen years old.
Standing in the hallway of my childhood home.
My father lying on the floor.
And in my hand…
A gun.
The weapon that killed him.
For a moment, I couldn’t hear anything.
Not the rain outside.
Not the distant sound of cars.
Not even Nico calling my name.
I only saw the picture.
Again.
And again.
A memory I had buried.
A memory I had never questioned.
Because I couldn’t.
My mind had protected itself.
That was the only explanation.
“Dante.””
Nico grabbed my shoulder.
I pulled away.
“Don’t.””
He stopped.
Because he saw my face.
Not fear.
Not anger.
Confusion.
The one emotion I never allowed myself to show.
“I didn’t do that,” I whispered.
Nico stared at the picture.
“I know.””
The answer came instantly.
Too instantly.
I looked at him.
“You don’t even know what happened.””
“I know you.””
His voice was firm.
“I know the man you became.””
He looked back at the phone.
“And I know you would never shoot your father.””
I wanted to believe that.
But the problem with memories was that they could lie.
Especially the ones created in moments of trauma.
I closed my eyes.
And suddenly, fragments returned.
A hallway.
A scream.
My father turning around.
A flash of light.
My hands shaking.
But there was something missing.
Something I had never been able to remember.
The seconds before the gunshot.
“What if I did?””
Nico’s expression changed.
“What?””
“What if I’m wrong?””
“Dante.””
“What if everyone has been protecting me from the truth because I couldn’t handle it?””
He stepped closer.
“No.””
“You weren’t there.””
“No.””
His voice became harder.
“But I know you.””
I looked away.
“Apparently nobody knows anyone.””
The phone vibrated.
Another message.
Same unknown number.
A video.
I almost didn’t open it.
Almost.
But I had spent twenty years running from that night.
I couldn’t run anymore.
I pressed play.
The video quality was terrible.
Old security footage.
Black and white.
A hallway.
My childhood home.
My breath stopped.
Because I recognized the angle.
It was from the camera my father installed outside his office.
A camera I thought had been destroyed.
The timestamp appeared.
The night he died.
The footage showed me walking into the hallway.
Sixteen years old.
Confused.
Looking for something.
Then my father appeared.
They spoke.
No sound.
Then my father grabbed my shoulders.
I moved closer to the screen.
Because I saw something.
My father wasn’t angry.
He was afraid.
Then another person entered the hallway.
The video cut out.
I cursed.
“Of course.””
Nico looked at me.
“They removed the important part.””
“No.””
I looked at the screen.
“They wanted me to see this.””
The video had been edited carefully.
Not to prove I killed my father.
To make me doubt myself.
The person behind this wasn’t trying to expose the truth.
They were controlling what truth I saw.
My phone rang.
This time, it wasn’t unknown.
Elena.
I answered.
“Dante.””
Her voice was shaking.
“Where are you?””
“Why?””
“Because someone came to the house.””
My entire body went still.
“Who?””
A pause.
Then:
“Marcus Vale.””
I stood immediately.
“What?””
“He came alone.””
“That’s impossible.””
“No.””
Her voice broke.
“It’s not.””
I looked at Nico.
“Did he hurt you?””
“No.””
“Then why is he there?””
Silence.
“Elena.””
She whispered:
“He wants to talk.””
I looked at the photograph again.
The boy holding the gun.
The father on the floor.
The missing piece.
“Don’t leave the house.””
“Dante—”
“I mean it.””
A pause.
Then she said:
“Dante…”
Her voice changed.
“Before you come back…”
“What?””
“You need to know something.””
I closed my eyes.
Not another secret.
Not another hidden truth.
“I’m listening.””
She took a breath.
“Maya didn’t disappear because Marcus found her.””
I waited.
“She disappeared because she found me.””
The words hit harder than anything.
“What does that mean?””
“I can’t explain over the phone.””
“Try.””
“She found out what happened after Dad died.””
I gripped the phone.
“What happened?””
Elena’s voice became quieter.
“The person who saved you that night…”
A pause.
“…was me.””
I said nothing.
Because that made no sense.
“You were nine years old.””
“I know.””
“How?””
“I don’t know.””
Her voice broke.
“But Maya told me.””
I looked at Nico.
He was watching me.
“Elena, tell me everything.””
“I will.””
Another pause.
“But not while he’s here.””
“Who?””
I already knew.
“Marcus.””
The call ended.
I stood frozen.
Then Nico spoke.
“Dante.””
I looked at him.
“You believe her?””
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t know anymore.
I had spent years believing Elena was the person I needed to protect.
Now I wondered if she had been protecting me.
We drove back immediately.
No conversation.
No explanations.
Just the sound of the engine.
When we arrived, Marcus Vale was sitting in my living room.
Calm.
Relaxed.
Like he owned the place.
Elena stood across from him.
The moment Marcus saw me, he smiled.
“Dante.””
I walked inside.
“You have a lot of courage coming here.””
He looked around.
“Your father said the same thing about me.””
My eyes narrowed.
“Don’t mention him.””
Marcus leaned back.
“You’re angry.””
“Yes.””
“Good.””
The answer surprised me.
“You want anger.””
“No.””
He smiled.
“I want you awake.””
Nico moved slightly.
Marcus noticed.
“Still protecting him, Nico?””
Nico froze.
I looked at him.
“What did he mean?””
Marcus ignored me.
“Your father made the same mistake.””
“What mistake?””
“Trusting people because he loved them.””
My jaw tightened.
“You don’t get to talk about loyalty.””
Marcus looked at Elena.
Then back at me.
“She knows.””
My body went still.
“Knows what?””
“The whole story.””
I looked at Elena.
She didn’t deny it.
“Tell him,” Marcus said.
She shook her head.
“Dante…”
My voice lowered.
“Tell me.””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“The night Dad died…”
She swallowed.
“I wasn’t just there.””
A pause.
“I was the reason you survived.””
I stared at her.
“What?””
She looked at the floor.
“Because I was the one who pulled the trigger.””
The room disappeared.
No sound.
No movement.
Nothing.
Only those words.
My little sister.
The person I spent my life protecting.
The person I would have died for.
“I don’t understand.””
Elena cried.
“I know.””
Marcus stood.
“This is what Maya was trying to hide.””
I looked at him.
“You knew?””
He nodded.
“I knew from the beginning.””
My hands curled into fists.
“Why?””
Marcus looked at Elena.
“Because your sister was nine years old.””
He paused.
“And she was holding a gun she never should have touched.””
Elena broke down.
“I didn’t mean to.””
The words came out like a child’s confession.
“I didn’t mean to hurt him.””
I couldn’t breathe.
“Why was there a gun?””
She looked at me.
And whispered the sentence that changed everything.
“Because Dad gave it to me.””
Silence.
Marcus watched me.
Then said:
“Now you understand.””
“No.””
I shook my head.
“No, I don’t.””
He stepped closer.
“Your father wasn’t killed by a child.””
He looked at Elena.
“He was killed because he made sure everyone believed a child did it.””
I stared at him.
The pieces moved.
But they didn’t fit.
Not yet.
“Why would he do that?””
Marcus smiled sadly.
“Because the person who was really responsible…”
He paused.
“…was standing behind you.””
The lights suddenly went out.
The entire house fell into darkness.
Then my phone vibrated.
A new message.
From Maya.
Only three words.
*Don’t believe him.*
I looked up.
Marcus was gone.
And Elena was whispering something I couldn’t hear.
I stepped closer.
“What did you say?””
She looked at me with tears in her eyes.
“Dante…”
Her voice trembled.
“Maya is alive.””
I froze.
“Where?””
She looked toward the dark hallway.
“She’s been here.””
May you like
A pause.
“She never left.””
