Chapter 8: The Truth About My Mother
My father dropped the phone.
It hit the wooden floor with a sharp crack.
Nobody moved.
Not even the security officers outside the room.
The sentence hung in the air.
*Because your wife asked me to.*
My mother.
The woman whose smile I remembered.
The woman whose voice existed only in old recordings.
The woman I had spent my entire life missing.
My mother had something to do with Gero finding me.
“No.””
The word escaped before I could stop it.
My father looked at me.
His face was filled with pain.
“Anna—”
“No.””
I shook my head.
“She would never.””
My father closed his eyes.
“I know.””
“You know?””
My voice rose.
“You know and you never told me?””
“Because I didn’t understand.””
Nobody answered.
I looked around the room.
Everyone had pieces of my life except me.
My father.
Gero.
Viktor.
Even my dead mother seemed to know more about my future than I did.
I picked up the phone.
The call had ended.
I pressed redial.
It rang once.
Twice.
Then Viktor answered.
“Thomas?””
“No.””
My voice surprised everyone.
“Anna.””
A pause.
Then Viktor’s tone changed.
“I expected you would eventually find out.””
My blood went cold.
“You knew about me?””
“Yes.””
“How long?””
A long silence.
“Since before you were born.””
The room felt like it was spinning.
My father stepped forward.
“Viktor, explain.””
But I raised my hand.
“No.””
I needed this.
I needed to hear it.
Not through my father.
Not through Gero.
From the person who had been hiding it.
“Why did my mother ask you to give Gero my name?””
Viktor sighed.
“It wasn’t like that.””
“Then what was it?””
“She asked me to find someone.””
“Who?””
A pause.
“Someone who could protect you.””
I laughed.
The sound was empty.
“Protect me?””
I looked at my father.
“Gero protected me?””
“No.””
Viktor’s answer was immediate.
“He failed.””
The honesty was unexpected.
“Then why him?””
“Because your mother believed he was the only person who could understand what was happening.””
My father stepped closer.
“What was happening?””
Viktor became quiet.
Then:
“Your mother discovered the truth about Gerhard Brandt.””
My father’s face hardened.
“What truth?””
“That Gerhard was not the person you thought he was.””
I frowned.
“What does that mean?””
Viktor continued.
“Gerhard was not trying to destroy you, Thomas.””
My father looked confused.
“He was trying to expose someone else.””
A silence followed.
“Who?””
Viktor answered:
“The person who had been controlling everything.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Who?””
No answer.
“Viktor.””
His voice lowered.
“Your mother never trusted the investigation.””
My father went still.
“Why?””
“Because she believed someone inside your own unit was protecting Gerhard.””
The room became silent.
My father looked like he had been struck.
“That’s impossible.””
“Is it?””
Viktor asked.
“You found the evidence. You arrested Gerhard. Then the evidence disappeared.””
My father said nothing.
“You thought Gerhard was responsible.””
Viktor continued.
“But your wife believed someone else was cleaning up after him.””
I looked at my father.
“Did Mom tell you this?””
His eyes moved to mine.
“She tried.””
My chest tightened.
“You didn’t listen.””
The words came out softly.
But they hurt.
My father looked down.
“No.””
The answer was devastating.
“I thought she was afraid.””
He swallowed.
“I thought losing her father had made her suspicious.””
“But she was right.””
“Yes.””
The room was quiet.
My father, the man who always had answers, finally admitted something.
My mother had known.
She had seen the danger.
And nobody believed her.
“What does this have to do with Gero?””
I asked.
Viktor answered.
“Gerhard found out your mother had evidence.””
“What evidence?””
“The original files.””
My heart raced.
“The ones proving who was actually responsible?””
“Yes.””
“And Gero?””
“He found out too.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
Viktor sighed.
“Anna, Gero was raised by a dangerous man. But he wasn’t exactly like his father.””
“That doesn’t excuse anything.””
“No.””
His voice became serious.
“It doesn’t.””
I looked away.
For the first time, someone connected to Gero admitted what he did without defending him.
“But he knew something,” Viktor continued.
“What?””
“Your mother left the evidence with him.””
My breath caught.
“Why?””
“Because she believed he was the only person his father couldn’t manipulate.””
My father looked furious.
“You’re saying my wife trusted the son of the man who destroyed our lives?””
Viktor answered quietly.
“She trusted the son who hated what his father had become.””
I remembered Gero’s expression during our last call.
Not anger.
Something else.
Regret.
But then I remembered the belt.
The bruises.
The fear.
And I refused to let complicated truths erase simple ones.
“He still hurt me.””
Nobody argued.
“He still chose to become someone dangerous.””
“Yes,” Viktor said.
“Then why are we talking about his reasons?””
Silence.
Because there was no good answer.
Reasons did not remove damage.
Understanding did not erase pain.
My father stepped closer.
“Anna.””
I looked at him.
“I owe you an apology.””
I almost cried.
Not because I forgave him.
Because I had waited so long to hear someone admit they hurt me.
“I should have told you everything.””
“Yes.””
“I should have trusted you with the truth.””
“Yes.””
“I should have protected you.””
I looked at him.
“You were trying.””
He shook his head.
“Trying is not the same as succeeding.””
That sentence stayed with me.
Because it was true.
Love was not enough.
Intentions were not enough.
Protection meant action.
A loud sound came from downstairs.
Everyone froze.
A door closing.
My father immediately turned.
“Stay here.””
The old command in his voice returned.
But this time, I didn’t feel like a child.
I stood.
“No.””
He looked at me.
“Anna.””
“I’m not hiding anymore.””
His expression changed.
A mixture of fear and pride.
Then the security officer’s voice came through the radio.
“Sir?””
My father grabbed it.
“What happened?””
A pause.
Then:
“Someone left a package at the front entrance.””
My father’s eyes narrowed.
“Who?””
“No one saw.””
He looked at me.
“Stay back.””
We followed him downstairs anyway.
The package sat on the table.
A plain brown envelope.
No name.
No address.
Only one word written on the front.
*Anna.*
My father opened it carefully.
Inside was a flash drive.
And a handwritten note.
My hands shook when I saw the handwriting.
I knew it.
I had seen it in old birthday cards.
Old letters.
Old memories.
My mother’s handwriting.
I grabbed the paper.
The message was short.
Only four lines.
*Anna, if you are reading this, then I was right.*
*They will tell you I was afraid.*
*They will tell you I made mistakes.*
*But the truth is this: I chose Gero because he was the only person who could save you from what was coming.*
I stared at the words.
My father looked over my shoulder.
Then I turned the page.
There was one final sentence.
One sentence that made every person in the room go silent.
*But I never expected him to become the thing I was trying to protect you from.*
My hand dropped.
Because suddenly, the question was no longer whether Gero had planned to hurt me.
The question was worse.
What had happened to make the man my mother trusted become the man who destroyed me?
The flash drive sat on the table.
Waiting.
My father looked at it.
“We need to see what’s inside.””
I nodded.
Then the lights went out.
The entire house fell into darkness.
A second later, my phone screen lit up.
One new message.
From Gero.
*Now you finally know why I couldn’t leave you alone.*
I stared at the words.
May you like
Then another message appeared.
*But you still don’t know what your mother asked me to do on the day she died.*
