Chapter 5: The Secret Under My Skin
After that phone call, I stopped sleeping.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the same things.
My father’s terrified face.
Sarah crying over a baby picture.
The video ending before the truth came out.
And the scar above my eyebrow.
A scar I had carried my entire life.
A scar everyone ignored.
Except Sarah.
Except the people who were trying to hide something.
The next day, I went to my father’s office.
He worked in a small building downtown.
The same place I had visited hundreds of times.
Only this time, it felt unfamiliar.
When I entered, he looked surprised.
“Ethan.””
I placed the old newspaper clipping on his desk.
“Tell me about that night.””
His expression hardened.
“I already told you.””
“No, you told me a story.””
I leaned forward.
“I want what happened.””
He stared at me.
For a long time.
Then he opened a drawer.
Inside was a small box.
My heart started racing.
“What is that?””
He didn’t answer.
He opened it.
Inside was a hospital bracelet.
A baby bracelet.
My name was printed on it.
Ethan Daniel Carter.
My father touched it carefully.
“You were born early.””
I waited.
“You had complications.””
“What kind?””
He looked away.
“Your mother and I argued.””
“That’s not an answer.””
His jaw tightened.
“Sarah wanted to leave.””
“And?””
“And she wanted to take you.””
I frowned.
“So you stopped her?””
He didn’t deny it.
“She wasn’t thinking clearly.””
I felt sick.
“Dad.””
He looked at me.
“I loved you.””
The words almost hurt more.
Because I believed them.
That was the worst part.
I believed my father loved me.
Maybe he did.
But love didn’t erase what he had done.
“You stole my life.””
His eyes filled.
“I saved your life.””
Before I could respond, the office door opened.
Sarah walked in.
My father stood immediately.
“How did you get here?””
“Your assistant let me in.””
She looked at me.
“I found something.””
She held a folder.
Another one.
More documents.
“I went back through old records.””
She handed them to me.
Inside was a birth certificate.
My name.
My birthday.
And under mother:
Sarah Morgan.
I looked at my father.
“You changed my records.””
He said nothing.
Then Sarah pointed to another page.
“This is the important part.””
It was a medical report.
My scar.
The injury.
The real cause.
I read the sentence.
Then read it again.
My hands started shaking.
*Patient suffered injury after fall during domestic altercation.*
Domestic altercation.
Not an accident.
Not childhood clumsiness.
Someone caused it.
I looked at my father.
“Who hurt me?””
His face collapsed.
And for the first time, he stopped defending himself.
“I did.””
The room went silent.
I couldn’t breathe.
“What?””
He sat down.
“I was angry.””
Sarah covered her mouth.
“I never knew.””
My father looked at me.
“You were in my arms. I was shouting. You slipped.””
“Slipped?””
My voice cracked.
“You gave me this scar.””
He nodded.
“I spent every day regretting it.””
I stepped away.
All the excuses.
All the secrets.
Everything finally connected.
But then my father said something I didn’t expect.
“Ethan, that’s not the worst part.””
I stared at him.
“What could possibly be worse?””
He looked at Sarah.
Then at me.
“The person who told me to hide you…”
He swallowed.
“Wasn’t Richard.””
My blood turned cold.
“Who was it?””
My father reached into the box again.
He pulled out an old photograph.
A photograph of three people.
Daniel.
Richard.
And someone else.
Someone I recognized immediately.
Because I had seen her face every day for seventeen years.
My stepmother.
Vanessa.
May you like
My father whispered:
“She was there the night you disappeared.””
