PART 3 — WHAT DAD RECORDED
Marcus kept staring at the flash drive in my hand.
“You don’t want to watch that,” he said again.
His voice was so different now that everyone noticed.
No anger.
No arrogance.
Just fear.
I looked at Samuel.
“Do you have a computer?”
He nodded toward Dad’s desk.
“There’s a laptop in the bottom drawer.”
Marcus immediately stepped forward.
“No.”
One of the investigators blocked him.
“Stay where you are.”
Marcus pointed at me.
“Elena, listen to me. Dad wasn’t thinking clearly near the end.”
I almost laughed.
“You just spent the last hour saying he knew exactly what he was doing when you thought he was leaving you money.”
“That’s different.”
“No. It isn’t.”
I opened the desk drawer.
Dad’s old laptop was exactly where Samuel said it would be.
I placed it on the desk and turned it on.
Marcus looked toward the front door.
The investigator noticed.
“Don’t.”
Marcus stopped.
Vanessa sat near the fireplace with both hands clenched together.
She looked worse than he did.
I inserted the drive.
One folder appeared on the screen.
Its name was simple.
MARCH 14.
I froze.
March 14 was the night Dad fell down the basement stairs.
The fall that had sent him to the hospital.
The fall everyone believed had been an accident.
I looked at Marcus.
He looked away.
My pulse began hammering.
Samuel leaned closer.
“Open it.”
Inside the folder were three video files.
The first was labeled KITCHEN.
The second was labeled HALLWAY.
The third was labeled BASEMENT.
I stared at the screen.
“Dad had cameras?”
Samuel shook his head.
“Not that I knew of.”
Then Aunt Linda spoke from behind me.
“He installed them after things started disappearing.”
Everyone turned toward her.
She swallowed.
“He told me small things were missing. Cash. Medication. Mail. He thought someone was coming into the house.”
Marcus snapped, “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
Linda looked directly at him.
“Because your father asked me not to.”
I clicked the kitchen video.
The footage was grainy but clear enough.
A timestamp appeared in the corner.
March 14.
8:42 p.m.
Dad was sitting at the kitchen table.
Marcus entered.
Even without sound, I could see the tension immediately.
Marcus pointed at Dad.
Dad shook his head.
Marcus slammed his hand against the table.
Vanessa whispered, “Oh no.”
The video had audio.
Dad’s voice came through the laptop speakers.
“I told you no.”
Marcus answered.
“You don’t understand how much trouble I’m in.”
“That is not Elena’s responsibility.”
I glanced at Marcus.
His jaw tightened.
On the recording, Marcus leaned closer to Dad.
“I need you to sign the transfer.”
“No.”
“Dad.”
“No.”
“It’s temporary.”
“You said that last time.”
Marcus paced around the kitchen.
Then Dad said something that made every person in the room go silent.
“I know you took the money.”
Marcus stopped.
“You don’t know anything.”
“I have the bank records.”
Marcus lowered his voice.
“You’re confused.”
“I am not confused.”
“You’re sick.”
“I’m dying, Marcus. That is not the same thing.”
My throat tightened.
The Marcus standing in front of me suddenly looked smaller than the man on the recording.
Dad pushed a document away.
“I will not sign the house over to you.”
Marcus grabbed it.
“You promised me the house.”
“I promised you nothing.”
“I’m your son.”
“And Elena is my daughter.”
Marcus’s face changed.
“Of course this is about her.”
Dad shook his head.
“This is about what you’ve become.”
Marcus slapped both hands on the table.
“You think Elena cares about you? She cares about the inheritance.”
I felt my stomach turn.
Dad looked at him for several seconds.
Then he said quietly, “She never asked me for a dollar.”
Marcus laughed bitterly.
“She’s playing the long game.”
Dad stood slowly.
“No, Marcus. You are.”
The video ended.
Nobody moved.
Marcus broke the silence.
“So what? We argued.”
Samuel looked at him.
“There are two more videos.”
I clicked HALLWAY.
The timestamp was 9:07 p.m.
Dad walked slowly toward the basement door.
Marcus followed behind him.
Their voices were muffled.
Then Dad opened the door.
Marcus grabbed his arm.
Aunt Linda gasped.
Marcus shouted, “That proves nothing.”
I paused the video.
“You grabbed him.”
“He was going downstairs in the dark. I was trying to stop him.”
I looked at him.
“Then why were you yelling?”
“I don’t remember.”
Vanessa suddenly whispered, “You told me you weren’t there when he fell.”
Marcus turned toward her.
“Be quiet.”
She stared at him.
“You said you left before it happened.”
“Vanessa.”
“You told the police you left before nine.”
One investigator immediately looked at his partner.
I pressed play again.
Dad pulled his arm free.
Marcus followed him toward the basement door.
Then both disappeared from view.
The video ended.
My hand hovered over the final file.
BASEMENT.
Marcus shook his head.
“Elena.”
I looked at him.
“Don’t.”
I clicked it.
The basement camera showed the bottom of the stairs.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then voices echoed from above.
Dad shouted, “Get out of my house.”
Marcus answered, “Sign it.”
“No.”
“Sign it!”
Then Dad appeared at the top of the stairs.
Marcus was behind him.
My hands started shaking.
Dad turned around.
He was holding the railing.
Marcus moved closer.
“You ruined everything,” Marcus said.
“No. You did.”
Then Marcus reached forward.
The camera angle was poor.
For half a second, their bodies blocked each other.
Then Dad fell.
Aunt Linda screamed.
Vanessa covered her face.
I stopped breathing.
Dad hit the basement floor hard and didn’t move.
Marcus stood at the top of the stairs.
He didn’t come down immediately.
He just stared.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Then he walked downstairs.
He knelt beside Dad.
I expected him to call for help.
He didn’t.
Instead, he searched Dad’s pockets.
The room erupted.
“No,” Vanessa whispered.
Marcus shouted, “Turn it off!”
The investigators moved toward him.
But the video kept playing.
Marcus pulled Dad’s keys from his pocket.
Then his phone.
Then something else.
A small notebook.
He flipped through it quickly.
After nearly two minutes, he finally dialed emergency services.
I felt sick.
Marcus looked at me.
“It wasn’t what it looks like.”
I stared at him.
“What does it look like?”
“He slipped.”
“You were behind him.”
“I tried to catch him.”
“You searched his pockets.”
“I panicked.”
“You waited before calling an ambulance.”
“I was checking if he was breathing.”
“You took his keys.”
Marcus shouted, “Because I thought the safe key was on them!”
The words escaped before he could stop them.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Samuel slowly closed his eyes.
One investigator said, “Thank you.”
Marcus realized what he had admitted.
“No. That’s not what I meant.”
I stood up.
My whole body was trembling now.
For months, I had blamed myself for Dad’s fall.
I had been the one who left early that evening because he told me he wanted to sleep.
I had replayed that decision a thousand times.
If I had stayed…
If I had checked on him…
If I had called…
But now I knew.
He had not been alone.
Marcus had been there.
And Marcus had lied.
I looked at my brother.
“You let me believe he fell by himself.”
Marcus shook his head.
“It was an accident.”
“You let me believe I should have been there.”
“Elena…”
“You watched me cry at the hospital and said nothing.”
“I was scared.”
“You stood beside Dad’s bed while he was unconscious and pretended you didn’t know what happened.”
Marcus’s eyes filled with tears.
For the first time, I didn’t care.
The investigator stepped closer.
“Marcus Vale, do not say anything else.”
Marcus looked toward the door again.
Then toward the windows.
Then at Vanessa.
Vanessa stood slowly.
“I told you to call an ambulance.”
Everyone turned to her.
Marcus stared.
“What?”
Vanessa was crying now.
“That night. You called me first.”
One investigator immediately asked, “What did he say?”
Marcus shouted, “Don’t answer.”
Vanessa ignored him.
“He said his father had fallen.”
Her voice cracked.
“I asked if he had called 911.”
“What did he say?”
“He said not yet.”
My stomach dropped.
“Why?” Samuel asked.
Vanessa looked at Marcus.
“Because he said he needed to find something before the paramedics came.”
I didn’t need to ask what.
The safe key.
Marcus backed away.
“This is insane.”
Vanessa continued.
“He thought your father kept account passwords in the safe.”
Marcus lunged toward her.
The investigators grabbed him immediately.
“Shut up!” Marcus screamed.
Vanessa started sobbing.
“You told me he was already dead!”
Marcus stopped struggling.
Every face in the room changed.
One investigator slowly asked, “He told you his father was dead?”
Vanessa nodded.
“Yes.”
“But Mr. Vale survived the fall.”
“I know.”
I felt ice move through me.
Dad had survived the fall.
He lived another eleven weeks.
Which meant Marcus had believed Dad was dead before he ever called for help.
The investigator placed Marcus’s hands behind his back.
Marcus started shouting.
“You can’t arrest me because of some old video!”
The investigator answered calmly.
“We’re detaining you while we review evidence related to fraud, forgery, and the circumstances surrounding your father’s injury.”
Marcus twisted toward me.
“Elena!”
I didn’t answer.
“Elena, tell them I loved Dad.”
I looked at him.
“I think you loved what Dad could give you.”
That silenced him.
As they led him toward the hallway, Marcus suddenly stopped.
He looked over his shoulder.
“You think Dad was innocent?”
I frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
Marcus smiled.
It was a terrible smile.
“You still haven’t opened the other folder.”
Samuel looked at the laptop.
“There isn’t another folder.”
Marcus shook his head.
“Not on the drive.”
He nodded toward the safe.
“Under the bottom panel.”
Everyone looked at the safe.
My stomach tightened again.
Samuel walked over and removed the folders.
He ran his hand across the steel bottom.
Then his fingers found a small edge.
A false panel.
He lifted it.
Underneath was a thin sealed envelope.
My name was written across the front.
ELENA.
Marcus laughed softly as the investigators held him.
“Go ahead.”
I picked up the envelope.
It was heavier than it looked.
Inside was a photograph.
A birth certificate.
And a handwritten letter from Dad.
I looked at the photograph first.
Dad was standing beside a woman I had never seen before.
She was holding a baby.
On the back, Dad had written a date.
The date was three years before I was born.
Then I unfolded the birth certificate.
I read the child’s name.
My knees nearly gave out.
Samuel reached for my arm.
“Elena?”
I couldn’t answer.
Because according to that birth certificate, Marcus and I had another sibling.
An older brother.
And according to Dad’s handwritten letter beneath it…
He was still alive…..
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 4…
