Chapter 5 - THE HOUSE BY THE LAKEThe lake house looked exactly as I remembered.
Snow covered the roof.
The old oak tree still stood behind it.
But the front door had been forced open.
Lena stopped beside me.
“This is where we met.”
“I remember.”
“You were fourteen.”
“You were thirteen.”
“You threw a pinecone at me.”
“You stole my bike.”
“I borrowed it.”
“For three hours.”
She smiled.
For a few seconds, the danger disappeared.
Then we entered the house.
The place had been searched.
Drawers were open.
Furniture overturned.
My father's office had been completely destroyed.
Lena found the first clue beneath the fireplace.
A small brass key.
I recognized it.
“My father had a safe.”
“Where?”
“Behind the oak.”
We went outside.
The tree had grown enormous.
Behind a loose section of bark, I found a metal box.
Inside were financial documents.
Photographs.
And one cassette tape.
Lena stared at it.
“What is that?”
“My father used to record business meetings.”
We found an old player in the basement.
The tape crackled.
Then my father's voice emerged.
“I know what you're doing, Marcus.”
A younger Marcus answered.
“You're imagining things.”
“No. Thomas Hart found the accounts.”
Silence.
Then Marcus spoke.
“You're going to regret protecting that man.”
The recording ended.
Lena covered her mouth.
I felt sick.
My uncle had threatened my father.
Then came the second recording.
My father's voice again.
“If anything happens to me, Ethan must never know about the accounts.”
Lena looked at me.
“Why wouldn't he tell you?”
“Because he thought he was protecting me.”
The third recording was worse.
Marcus said:
“Separate the boy from Lena. Once he's in college, he'll forget.”
My stomach dropped.
He had planned it.
He had deliberately separated us.
Not because of money alone.
Because Lena's father had evidence.
And Marcus feared that if Lena and I stayed together, eventually we would discover the truth.
I turned toward the door.
“We need to leave.”
A sound came from outside.
A car door.
Then footsteps.
Lena grabbed my arm.
“Someone's here.”
We hid behind the kitchen wall.
Two men entered.
One carried a flashlight.
The other said, “Find the box.”
I looked at Lena.
She pointed toward the back door.
We moved silently.
Outside, snow covered our footprints.
We reached my SUV.
The engine started.
A shot cracked through the air.
Lena screamed.
I accelerated.
The bullet struck the rear window.
We sped down the frozen road.
For ten minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then Lena reached across the center console and took my hand.
“You're shaking.”
“So are you.”
“I thought they were going to kill us.”
“So did I.”
She squeezed my fingers.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For coming back.”
I looked at her.
“I never really left.”
She smiled through tears.
And then she kissed me.
It wasn't passionate.
It wasn't dramatic.
It was something more dangerous.
It was familiar.
The kind of kiss that felt like a promise unfinished twenty years ago.
When we pulled apart, Lena whispered:
“I don't want to lose you again.”
Neither did I.
But before I could answer, my phone rang.
Marcus.
His voice was calm.
“You found the recordings.”
I said nothing.
“I always wondered when you'd finally become curious.”
“Why did you destroy our lives?”
He laughed softly.
“Because your father was weak.”
Then his voice hardened.
“And because Lena's father knew too much.”
“You're finished.”
“No, Ethan.”
A pause.
“I'm just getting started.”
The call ended.
Then another message appeared.
A photograph.
My house.
Lena's apartment.
May you like
And Rebecca's car.
Someone was watching everyone we loved.
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