Before I could process the full weight of what I was seeing, the phone vibrated again.
I hesitated.
Then, slowly, I unlocked it.
My father’s familiar background filled the screen—a photo of me and him from years ago.
My chest tightened.
I opened the gallery.
Scrolled.
And there it was.
A video recorded just hours before his death.
My fingers hovered.
Then I pressed play.
The screen flickered.
And my father appeared.
Weaker than I remembered.
Paler.
But unmistakably him.
“Melissa,” he said, his voice strained but clear. “If you’re seeing this… it means I didn’t make it.”
Tears blurred my vision instantly.
“I didn’t want to involve you,” he continued. “But I don’t have a choice anymore.”
He coughed.
Then leaned closer to the camera.
“There are people watching the company. Not just competitors. Something bigger. I tried to pull out. That’s when things started going wrong.”
I covered my mouth, shaking.
“If anything happens to me,” he said, “trust no one… except—”
The video cut abruptly.
Static.
Silence.
I stared at the screen.
“That’s it?” I whispered.
Andrew nodded grimly.
“It got cut off,” he said. “We think someone interrupted him.”
I looked up at him, my heart pounding.
“Except who?” I asked.
Andrew didn’t answer.
Because in that moment—
We both realized something.
If my father had meant Andrew…
He would have said his name.
A cold realization settled over us.
“He didn’t finish the sentence,” I said slowly.
Andrew nodded.
“Which means,” I continued, “we don’t know who he trusted.”
A sound echoed in the distance.
Footsteps.
Not ours.
We both froze.
This time, neither of us moved.
Because now—
We understood.
We weren’t alone.
And whoever had been watching my father…
Might have just found us too.
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