Silently.
Chapter 4
PART 4 - The Cure and the Impossible Truth
521 words
Like someone who had carried a secret for too long.
The man noticed.
“She promised your wife she would protect them.”
“Protect them from what?”
The man looked toward the ceiling.
“From you.”
My anger exploded.
“What does that mean?”
Clara finally spoke.
“It means Genevieve was afraid that if you knew the truth, you would do exactly what you’re doing now.”
“What?”
“Burn everything.”
The words struck harder than any weapon.
Because she was right.
If someone hurt my children, I would destroy cities.
I would ruin governments.
I would turn every enemy into ash.
Genevieve knew that.
She always knew.
The man reached into his jacket.
Prescott raised his weapon.
But the man didn’t pull out a gun.
He pulled out a small device.
A recording.
He pressed a button.
Static filled the room.
Then I heard her voice.
“Lawson.”
I stopped breathing.
Genevieve.
My wife.
Alive.
Not
a memory.
Not a dream.
A recording.
“If you’re hearing this, then Clara failed to keep you away from the truth.”
My knees almost gave out.
Her voice was exactly the same.
Warm.
Gentle.
The voice that used to fill our home.
The voice that used to call me back from the darkness.
“I’m sorry.”
A pause.
“I know you will be angry.”
I closed my eyes.
Because she knew.
“I know you will blame yourself.”
My jaw tightened.
“But please listen.”
The recording continued.
“The illness affecting Jonah and Blythe was created using research stolen from Mercer Biotech.”
My own company.
My own name.
“The people responsible believed they could control the outcome. They believed they could force you into making a decision.”
“What decision?” I whispered.
No one answered.
The recording continued.
“The cure exists.”
Everyone froze.
The cure.
Two words.
The two words I had been searching
for.
The two words that could save my children.
“But it was never released because the person who created it disappeared.”
My heart pounded.
“Who?”
Then Genevieve said the words that changed everything.
“Lawson, the person who created the cure was our son.”
The world stopped.
I looked down at Jonah.
My six-year-old son.
Sleeping weakly.
Holding his sister’s hand.
Impossible.
Completely impossible.
The recording ended.
Nobody spoke.
Then Jonah opened his eyes.
His voice was barely audible.
“Daddy…”
I turned toward him.
“Why did Mommy say my name?”
The room went cold.
Because Jonah had never heard the recording.
He had never heard those words.
But he looked directly at the device.
And whispered:
“She told me not to tell you.”
Every person in the room froze.
I stared at my son.
“Tell me what?”
Jonah’s eyes filled with tears.
“Mommy said you would be angry.”
My voice became
quiet.
“Angry about what?”
The little boy looked at me.
And said the words that shattered everything I believed about my family.
“Because I remember when I saved Blythe.”
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
Then the lights went out.
A final message appeared on the security screens throughout the mansion.
One sentence.
One name.
GENEVIEVE MERCER IS ALIVE.
And beneath it:
SHE HAS BEEN WATCHING YOU THE ENTIRE TIME.
THE END.
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