I couldn't stop thinking about Daniel's words.
The fire that destroyed everything ten years ago.
What fire?
I had spent my entire life hearing about the war between my father and the Blackwoods, but nobody had ever mentioned a fire.
Why?
I returned to my room and locked the door.
The letter was still in my hand.
I read it again.
Find out what happened ten years ago. Ask about the Morgan family.
My father had always warned me never to investigate family matters.
Now I understood why.
I opened my laptop and searched for old news articles.
At first, nothing appeared.
Then I found an archived newspaper report.
My heart began beating faster.
MYSTERIOUS FIRE DESTROYS MORGAN WAREHOUSE
The date was exactly ten years ago.
I clicked the article.
The warehouse had belonged to Daniel's family.
According to the report, the building had caught fire late at night. Several important business documents had been destroyed.
But the article mentioned something else.
A man had died.
I stopped breathing.
His name was Samuel Morgan.
Daniel's uncle.
The report said investigators had suspected arson but never identified the person responsible.
I kept reading.
Then I saw my father's name.
My blood went cold.
He had been questioned during the investigation because his company had been involved in a financial dispute with the Morgans.
But he was never charged.
I closed the laptop.
"No."
I couldn't believe it.
My father couldn't have done something like that.
Or could he?
A knock sounded.
I quickly hid the laptop.
"Who is it?"
"Me."
My mother's voice.
I opened the door.
She stepped inside.
Her eyes immediately fell on my face.
"You found something."
I froze.
"What?"
She sighed.
"You look exactly like your father when you're hiding something."
I stared at her.
"Mom, what happened ten years ago?"
She went completely still.
I knew immediately.
She knew.
"What fire?"
She looked toward the hallway.
"Where did you hear about that?"
"Daniel told me."
She closed her eyes.
"Daniel shouldn't have said anything."
"What happened?"
"Some things are better left buried."
"Not anymore."
She sat on my bed.
I remained standing.
"Was Dad responsible?"
She didn't answer.
"Mom."
She finally looked at me.
"Your father wasn't the only person involved."
My heart sank.
"What does that mean?"
"The night of the fire, there were three families involved."
"Which families?"
She hesitated.
"The Morgan family."
"The Blackwoods."
"And ours."
I felt dizzy.
"Why?"
She shook her head.
"I can't tell you."
"Why not?"
"Because if your father discovers that I told you…"
She stopped.
I understood.
She was afraid.
"Mom, did someone die because of Dad?"
Tears filled her eyes.
"People died because of that night."
I stepped backward.
"How many?"
She looked away.
"More than one."
Silence filled the room.
Then she reached into her handbag and pulled out an old photograph.
She handed it to me.
Three men stood outside a warehouse.
My father.
Richard Blackwood.
And a third man I didn't recognize.
On the back of the photograph was a date.
Ten years ago.
I looked at my mother.
"Who is the third man?"
Her face went pale.
"His name was Samuel Morgan."
I stared at the photograph.
The three men were standing together.
Not as enemies.
As friends.
My entire understanding of my family had just shattered.
Then my mother whispered something that made my blood run cold.
"Your father didn't start the fire."
I looked at her.
"Then who did?"
She shook her head.
"I don't know."
A pause.
"But I know this."
"What?"
She leaned closer.
"Someone has been killing people connected to that night."
My breath caught.
"Who?"
Before she could answer, we heard footsteps outside my bedroom.
My mother immediately stood.
The door handle moved.
Someone was trying to open it.
We stared at each other.
Then a voice came from the other side.
My father's voice.
"Open the door."
My mother grabbed the photograph from my hand.
But it was too late.
My father had already discovered that we were hiding something.