# CHAPTER 32 #
Uncle Ray
Krist scrolled through his contacts until his cursor stopped on a familiar name.
**[ Uncle Ray ]**.
A faint smile crossed his face. It had been a while since they'd spoken, and Krist figured it was about time he checked on his uncle.
He clicked the mouse and initiated a video call.
The call was forwarded. A few seconds later, the familiar ringing began.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Finally, the call connected.
The face that appeared on Krist's monitor made him pause.
Ray had always been a handsome man. Even now, that much was obvious, Even through the layer of heavy exhaustion, Ray's sharp features were unmistakable. But his current state was startling. His graying dark hair was overgrown and messy, heavy violet circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes, and several days of dark stubble covered his jawline. He looked like a man who hadn't slept or eaten a full meal in a week.
He looked as though he'd spent the last several weeks fighting a war against sleep—and losing badly.
Krist stared at him for a moment before shifting his attention to the surroundings behind him.
If Ray looked terrible, his office was considerably worse.
The private investigator's office looked less like a professional suite and more like the aftermath of a hurricane. Stacks of case files, open binders, and legal pads were piled haphazardly across his desk.
Books and loose papers covered almost every available surface. The desk was buried beneath a mountain of documents, and the shelves to Ray's left were nearly empty, as though someone had emptied them in a hurry and abandoned the contents wherever they landed.
But the real spectacle was the glass wall behind him.
It was barely visible beneath the layers of photographs, newspaper clippings, printed reports, and handwritten notes. Red and green threads stretched between them, connecting one piece of information to another ranging from linking names, corporate logos, until the entire wall resembled a giant puzzle.
Krist blinked.
Then he leaned closer to his monitor.
"Oh, my God! It's real!"
Ray immediately turned around, looking over his shoulder.
"What? What's real?" His gaze swept across the office, and a hint of panic crept into his expression as he reached under his coat. "Is someone in here? Is there something I don't know about?"
Krist stared at him in disbelief.
"Jesus Christ, Uncle Ray... is that supposed to be a detective's office or a crime scene?"
Ray looked back at the screen.
"Yes?"
"How do you even find anything in that place?" Krist demanded. "Where do you entertain your guests? Do you make them sit on the floor between piles of books? And when was the last time you got a proper eight hours of sleep?"
"Ah, that." Ray glanced around as though he'd only just noticed the state of his surroundings.
"Oh. That," Ray sighed, relaxing his posture and hastily began clearing a small space on his desk, stacking books on top of papers and pushing several folders aside. . "I'm busy, kid. Besides... word reached me that you were rushed to the ICU last night bleeding from your ears. Care to explain how that happened? Is this something Bellatrix let slip through her fingers? Because I swear to God, if she neglected your medical containment again, I'm filing a federal warrant—"
Ray started rummaging through the papers.
He glanced around his desk, suddenly looking frustrated.
"Damn it! Where's my phone?"
Krist stared at him.
"Why am I not surprised? Honestly, where would you even begin looking in that disaster?"
He shook his head before adding, "Bellatrix didn't have anything to do with it,"
Ray stopped shuffling his papers, looking up at the camera. "She didn't? Then what happened to you?"
"My baseline condition," Krist said softly. "Turns out my temporal pathways haven't outgrown the flare-ups."
Ray's brow furrowed in deep, genuine concern. "Are you serious? How did you handle the neural spike? You're out of the hospital, so you must have stabilized."
"They found a small reserve supply of the original chemical suppressant," Krist said, maintaining a calm, unbothered expression. "I'm fine now."
Ray leaned closer to his webcam, his sharp detective eyes analyzing Krist's posture, eyes, and tone through the feed. "Are you sure you're okay, kid?"
"I'm sitting in my living room instead of an ICU bed, aren't I?" Krist offered a small, reassuring smile. "I'm fine."
"That's not exactly reassuring."
"It's the best you're getting."
Ray sighed and nodded.
"Good... good, As long as you're sure you're okay." Ray muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. He tapped his desk. "So... what do you need from me?"
Krist raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. "Did I say I needed something?"
Ray gave him a look.
"Come on, Krist. You don't have to tell me. You never call unless you need something, so I highly doubt you're just checking up on your poor, overworked uncle."
Krist placed a hand over his chest.
"Ouch! You just hurt my feelings."
He shook his head dramatically.
"Not even a simple 'Thank you, Krist, for taking the time to check on me'? No appreciation whatsoever?"
Ray didn't even blink.
"Yeah, I'm not going to do that."
"Unbelievable."
"Now, tell me what you really want, or I'll get back to work. As you can see, I'm rather busy."
Krist lowered his head slightly, putting on an exaggeratedly disappointed expression.
"What a shame. I really was just checking on you."
Ray studied him for a moment.
"Okay, let's pretend I believe you, even though we both know I don't. What happens next?"
Krist narrowed his eyes.
"Was that second part really necessary?"
"Absolutely."
"Never mind."
Krist's expression gradually changed. The playful smile disappeared, and he sat up straighter in his chair.
"I'm going to ask you a direct question, Uncle Ray. And I need the absolute truth. Not the comfortable version you tell the press, and not the sanitized version you think an teen can handle. I deserve the truth.And I want you to tell me the truth—or at least what you genuinely believe to be the truth."
Ray stopped moving.
Krist held his gaze through the monitor.
"I know you might be tempted to tell me that I'm better off not knowing. But I'm not that naive. I'm not a little child who can be distracted with a comforting lie and expected to forget about it."
He studied Krist carefully before nodding.
"All right. Since you're being this serious, I'll tell you what I can. If I know the truth, I'll tell you. If all I have is a theory, I'll make that clear."
"Good."
Krist hesitated briefly before continuing.
"But I think I should warn you about something. Your answer to this question will determine whether I can trust you."
Ray raised an eyebrow.
"Is that so?"
"Yes."
"All right, then. Shoot."
Ray's tone was casual, but Krist didn't miss the way his attention sharpened..
Krist took a slow breath.
"I want to know your opinion about my parents' deaths. Do you believe what the news said? Do you believe their plane crash was really an accident?"
Ray froze.
The change was immediate.
His hands stopped moving, and the tired expression on his face gave way to something harder to identify. Surprise, perhaps. Or apprehension.
Whatever it was, Krist knew he hadn't expected that question.
For several seconds, Ray remained silent.
Then he leaned back in his chair and scratched the back of his head.
"Before I tell you anything, I need you to promise me something."
Krist's eyebrows rose.
"All right. Let's hear it."
Ray took a deep breath.
"I think you're old enough to know certain things about your parents. But I might be wrong about whether you're ready to hear them but you're the sole heir to everything your father built, Which means you're in more danger than you realize."
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
"So I want you to promise me that you won't do anything stupid after this conversation. Whatever my hypothesis is, I want you to continue living your life as you have been. No investigating, no chasing leads, and absolutely no trying to play detective. Understand?"
Krist considered the request for a moment.
Then he nodded.
"Sure. I promise to continue living my life the way I have been and not to start playing detective after hearing what you have to say."
Ray watched him closely.
"You're sure?"
"Completely."
Ray exhaled.
"All right."
He turned back toward his desk, apparently preparing to continue.
Then he stopped.
"Damn it! Where's my phone?"
Krist stared at him.
For a moment, he genuinely wondered whether his uncle was joking.
"You've been looking for your phone since we started talking."
"I know! And I still can't find it!"
Ray began picking up books, shaking them upside down in the hope that the missing phone might somehow fall out.
Krist watched the spectacle with growing disbelief.
"Uncle Ray."
"What?"
"How exactly are we talking right now?"
Ray stopped.
He looked at the book in his hand, then at the desk, and finally toward the screen.
A moment later, the camera tilted upward as he picked up the device he'd been using for the call.
"Oh."
There was a brief silence.
Then Ray's voice echoed through the speakers.
"Damn it! It's my phone! I thought I was using my computer. Where's my computer, then?"
Krist slowly brought his palm to his face.
"Is this really happening?"
He leaned forward.
"Uncle Ray, your laptop is underneath that magazine on your left."
Ray lowered the phone and looked toward the spot Krist had indicated.
He moved a few papers aside, lifted the magazine, and pulled out a laptop.
"Oh," he said again.
Krist stared at him.
Ray glanced between the laptop and his phone.
"My mistake."
Krist remained silent for a moment.
Then he asked, "Uncle Ray, are you on drugs or something?"
Ray looked offended.
"No! I just didn't see it there."
He rubbed his eyes and let out a tired sigh.
Krist shook his head.
"I think you seriously need some sleep. All this work is beginning to affect your brain."
"Don't look at me like that. I'm fine."
"You're searching for a phone while using it to talk to me."
"I noticed."
"After I pointed it out."
"Krist!"
"All right, all right. I'll stop."
Ray waved a hand dismissively before settling the laptop on his desk.
"Now, can we get back to business?"
"By all means."
Krist straightened in his chair.
"What's your opinion about my parents' deaths?"
The humour vanished from Ray's face.
He looked down at his desk, suddenly seeming uncomfortable.
"How am I supposed to tell you this?" he muttered, scratching the back of his head. "This is harder than I thought."
Krist waited.
Ray took a deep breath, then looked directly into the camera.
"How do I even say this to you..." Ray whispered, his voice thick with unexpressed grief and anger. He looked back into the lens, his eyes dark. "In my professional opinion... and off every official record... I don't believe a single word of the government report."
He took a slow, heavy breath.
Krist remained perfectly still.
"Go on."
Ray hesitated again.
For a moment, he seemed to be wrestling with the decision to continue. Then he drew another breath and spoke.
"I believe your parents' plane crash wasn't an accident."
Krist's fingers tightened slightly against the edge of his desk.
Ray's expression grew solemn.
"I believe someone caused it deliberately."
He paused, his eyes fixed on Krist's face.
"Which means..."
Ray swallowed.
"I'm sorry, kid. But I believe your parents were murdered."