Chapter 5: The Real Target
The message stayed on Tara’s phone screen.
*“Maya isn’t the target. She’s the distraction.””*
Nobody spoke.
The sentence was only seven words long.
But it changed everything.
Because for the first time since this nightmare began, I wasn’t standing in the center of the accusation.
I was standing beside it.
My father took the phone from Tara’s hand.
“When did he send this?””
Tara looked nervous.
“Last night.””
“Before or after the money went missing?””
“After.””
My father looked at her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
She looked away.
“Because I was scared.””
The answer surprised me.
Not because I believed her completely.
I didn’t.
But because Tara had always acted like she was untouchable.
Like nothing could break her.
Now her hands were shaking.
“What were you scared of?”” my father asked.
Tara swallowed.
“Ethan.””
The room became silent again.
My father placed the phone on the table.
“You need to tell us everything.””
“I already told you.””
“No.””
His voice was calm.
But firm.
“You told us pieces.””
Tara looked down.
“Marcus…”
“No more secrets.””
She looked at him.
Then at me.
For a second, I thought she wouldn’t say anything.
Then she whispered:
“Ethan doesn’t care about the money.””
I frowned.
“Then what does he want?””
Tara didn’t answer.
My father’s eyes narrowed.
“Tara.””
She took a deep breath.
“He wants something from me.””
“What?””
She looked toward the staircase.
Toward the second floor.
Toward the room where I had spent the last few years feeling like a stranger.
“He wants the documents.””
My father froze.
“What documents?””
Tara’s face turned pale.
“The ones your father left.””
I looked at Marcus.
My father looked confused.
“My father?””
She nodded.
“Yes.””
I had never heard this conversation before.
“What documents?””
My father didn’t answer immediately.
That scared me.
Because my father always had an answer.
He was the person who fixed things.
The person who told me everything would be okay.
But now he looked lost.
“There are no documents.””
Tara shook her head.
“Yes, there are.””
My father stood straighter.
“How do you know?””
“Because Ethan knows.””
“That doesn’t answer the question.””
Tara closed her eyes.
“Because I found them.””
I stared at her.
“You found them?””
She nodded.
“Months ago.””
“And you didn’t tell Dad?””
“I was going to.””
“When?””
She looked at me.
And for once, she didn’t have a sharp response.
“I don’t know.””
The words annoyed me.
But before I could say anything, my father interrupted.
“Where are they?””
Tara hesitated.
“I hid them.””
“Where?””
Another pause.
“In a place Ethan wouldn’t look.””
My father’s frustration grew.
“Tara, my daughter was accused of stealing because of a situation connected to something you hid from me.””
“I know.””
“No, I don’t think you do.””
His voice cracked slightly.
“I watched Maya stand there and beg us to believe her.””
Tara looked at me.
Her expression changed.
Guilt.
Real guilt.
“I know.””
I looked away.
Because hearing her admit it didn’t erase the memory.
The way she looked at me.
The way she made me feel.
The way I had spent the night wondering if my own father believed me.
My phone suddenly buzzed.
I looked down.
Unknown number.
Again.
My heart dropped.
My father noticed.
“What is it?””
I didn’t answer.
I opened the message.
*“Don’t trust Tara yet.””*
I looked up.
Another message appeared.
*“She knows more than she’s telling you.””*
My father saw my face.
“Maya?””
I locked the screen.
“Someone texted me.””
Tara immediately looked alarmed.
“Who?””
“I don’t know.””
“What did they say?””
I looked at her.
“Why?””
The question came out sharper than I expected.
“Why do you want to know?””
She looked hurt.
“I’m trying to help.””
“Are you?””
The words surprised even me.
But I couldn’t stop.
“Because every time something happens, somehow you’re connected to it.””
Tara opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
My father stepped between us.
“Maya.””
“No, Dad.””
My voice shook.
“I spent years thinking she hated me. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she didn’t hate me.””
I looked at Tara.
“Maybe she was just hiding something worse.””
Tara’s face fell.
I immediately felt a small sting of regret.
But it was too late.
The truth was out.
My father sighed.
“We need to find those documents.””
Tara nodded.
“I’ll show you.””
She walked toward the hallway.
We followed.
She stopped in front of a painting hanging near the dining room.
I had seen that painting every day for years.
A landscape of mountains.
Nothing special.
Or so I thought.
Tara reached behind it.
She pulled out a small key taped to the back.
My father stared.
“You hid a key behind a painting?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because Ethan knew my habits.””
She unlocked a small wooden box hidden behind the cabinet.
Inside were several envelopes.
Old photographs.
A sealed folder.
My father reached for it.
The moment he touched it, his expression changed.
“What?””
He looked at Tara.
“This is my father’s handwriting.””
I stepped closer.
The folder had an old label.
*Marcus Hale — Personal Records*
My father slowly opened it.
Inside were papers.
Bank statements.
Property records.
Letters.
I didn’t understand what I was seeing.
But my father did.
His face became darker with every page.
“What is it?””
He didn’t answer.
“Dad?””
He finally looked up.
“When my father died, everyone thought his company disappeared because of debt.””
“And?””
He held up one document.
“He didn’t lose everything.””
Tara nodded.
“That’s what Ethan was looking for.””
My father kept reading.
“There was money.””
“How much?””
He looked at me.
“A lot.””
The room suddenly felt different.
The missing fifty dollars seemed almost ridiculous now.
A distraction.
Exactly what the message said.
My father flipped through the pages.
Then he stopped.
His fingers tightened around one paper.
“What?””
He didn’t answer.
“Dad?””
He handed me the document.
I looked down.
It was a legal form.
A transfer agreement.
At the bottom was a signature.
My father’s.
But the date was recent.
Very recent.
I looked at him.
“You signed this?””
He shook his head.
“No.””
Tara stepped closer.
“What is it?””
My father looked terrified.
“This transfers control of my father’s remaining assets.””
My eyes widened.
“To who?””
He pointed at the name.
I read it.
Then my blood went cold.
Because it wasn’t Ethan’s name.
It wasn’t Tara’s.
It wasn’t anyone I knew.
It was mine.
*Maya Marcus Hale.*
I looked at my father.
“What?””
He shook his head.
“I never signed this.””
Tara looked at the paper.
“Then someone forged it.””
My father turned the page.
There was one more line.
A handwritten note.
Only four words.
I read it silently.
*“She gets everything tomorrow.””*
My father’s face went pale.
“Tomorrow?””
I looked at him.
“What happens tomorrow?””
He didn’t answer.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed instantly.
“What?””
A few seconds passed.
Then he whispered:
“No…”
I stepped closer.
“What happened?””
He slowly lowered the phone.
“The bank.””
My heart started racing.
“What about the bank?””
He looked at me.
“Someone already tried to transfer the money.””
The room went silent.
“Who?”” Tara asked.
My father looked at the phone.
May you like
Then at me.
“The request came from an account registered under your name.””
