Chapter Ninety-Six: The Voice from the Past

Chapter Ninety-Six: The Voice from the Past
Oliver didn’t wait.

The moment he returned to Haywood Manor, he ordered the entire west wing sealed.

No visitors.

No phone calls.

No interruptions.

The cassette tape rested in the middle of Harold’s old study like a priceless artifact.

Marcus looked at it carefully.

“I hope this still works.”

“So do I,” Oliver replied.

An FBI forensic technician unpacked an antique cassette player specially brought from the evidence lab.

He inspected the tape.

“The casing is old, but it’s been preserved well.”

He inserted it carefully.

The room fell silent.

A soft hiss filled the speakers.

Static.

Then…

A man’s voice.

Daniel Reeves.

“Interview begins. July 18… twenty-eight years ago.”

Another pause.

A chair scraped across the floor.

Then came Harold Haywood’s unmistakable voice.

Deep.

Calm.

Authoritative.

“Ethan…”

“…tell me everything.”

Oliver’s breath caught.

It was the first time he had heard his grandfather’s voice since he was a child.

Nuella reached for his hand.

He squeezed it gently.

Then another voice spoke.

Younger.

Steady.

Confident.

“I never wanted it to come to this, Harold.”

Ethan Cross.

The room listened in complete silence.

Harold sighed.

“Are you certain?”

“I’m beyond certain.”

Paper shuffled.

“I’ve copied every document.”

“Every offshore account.”

“Every shell company.”

“Every illegal payment Richard authorized.”

Marcus immediately looked toward Oliver.

Oliver’s expression darkened.

This wasn’t suspicion.

It was proof.

Harold spoke again.

“Richard is my son.”

“I know.”

“And I love him.”

“I know.”

Harold’s voice cracked.

“But I cannot defend what he’s becoming.”

Oliver closed his eyes.

Everything he’d believed about Harold had been wrong.

His grandfather hadn’t been blind.

He had been heartbroken.

The recording continued.

Ethan’s voice became quieter.

“Harold…”

“I need you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“If anything happens to me…”

“…protect the company.”

Harold answered immediately.

“I’ll protect you.”

There was a long silence.

Then Ethan laughed softly.

“No.”

“You can’t.”

Oliver frowned.

Ethan continued.

“Richard has already decided.”

“He offered me money.”

“When I refused…”

“He offered me fear.”

Harold asked quietly,

“What does that mean?”

Another pause.

Then…

“He said accidents happen every day.”

The room became painfully still.

Marcus slowly removed his glasses.

Nobody breathed.

Ethan spoke one final sentence before the tape suddenly crackled.

“If I disappear…”

“…don’t believe the water took me.”

The recording ended abruptly.

The room echoed with silence.

Oliver stood frozen.

His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Nuella stepped beside him.

“Oliver…”

He didn’t answer.

Marcus finally spoke.

“This changes everything.”

Oliver looked toward the window.

“No.”

“It confirms everything.”

Harold had known.

Ethan had known.

Richard had planned it.

Nearly three decades ago.

The FBI technician carefully removed the tape.

“It’s authentic.”

Marcus nodded.

“I expected as much.”

The technician continued.

“No signs of editing.”

“No digital alteration.”

“The recording is genuine.”

Oliver looked at Marcus.

“Can we use it?”

Marcus hesitated.

“In court…”

“It helps.”

“But alone…”

“It’s not enough.”

Oliver frowned.

“What are we missing?”

Marcus answered quietly.

“Ethan’s body.”

Across the city…

Victor Sloan entered an abandoned warehouse near the docks.

The silver-haired man stood waiting beside an old wooden table.

“You failed.”

Victor remained expressionless.

“They listened to the tape.”

“I know.”

The old man poured himself coffee.

“You should’ve destroyed it years ago.”

Victor stared ahead.

“I didn’t know Daniel Reeves kept a copy.”

The older man smiled.

“No.”

“You assumed Richard destroyed every piece of evidence.”

Victor remained silent.

The old man looked directly at him.

“Richard wasn’t nearly as thorough as people believed.”

Victor frowned.

“What are you suggesting?”

“I’m suggesting…”

“…the real evidence still exists.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed.

“You know where it is.”

The old man smiled.

“I always have.”

Later that evening…

Marcus continued searching through Harold’s archive.

Every document was now being scanned and catalogued.

Sophia sat beside Nuella sorting photographs.

Most showed company events.

Family gatherings.

Business trips.

Then Sophia stopped.

“Wait.”

Nuella looked over.

“What is it?”

Sophia held up a faded photograph taken inside Haywood Global’s original headquarters.

Several employees stood together.

Harold.

Richard.

Ethan.

Secretaries.

Accountants.

Security staff.

Sophia pointed toward the back.

“Who’s that?”

Oliver walked over.

At first…

He barely noticed the young man standing near the elevator.

Then realization struck.

Marcus leaned closer.

“No way…”

The young security guard in the photograph had unmistakable features.

A younger face.

Dark hair instead of gray.

But the same piercing eyes.

The same scar across his knuckles.

Oliver whispered,

“Victor.”

Marcus nodded slowly.

“He worked there.”

Nuella frowned.

“As security?”

Marcus looked closer.

“No.”

“He was far too young.”

Oliver’s thoughts raced.

“If Victor worked for Haywood Global before Ethan disappeared…”

“…then Richard didn’t hire him afterward.”

Marcus finished the thought.

“He’d already been inside the company.”

Oliver stared at the photograph.

Victor Sloan hadn’t entered Richard Haywood’s life as a fixer.

He had been there from the very beginning.

Just then, an FBI agent hurried into the study.

“Mr. Haywood.”

Oliver turned.

“What is it?”

“We’ve received a report.”

Marcus stepped forward.

“From who?”

“The Coast Guard.”

Oliver frowned.

“The Coast Guard?”

The agent nodded.

“A fishing vessel found something caught in its trawling nets early this morning.”

He handed Oliver a preliminary report.

Recovered approximately five nautical miles from the location where Ethan Cross was believed to have drowned.

Oliver scanned the page.

Then his breathing slowed.

Attached to the report was a photograph.

A rusted steel lockbox.

Its surface was badly corroded after decades beneath the sea.

But one thing remained visible.

The initials engraved on the lid.

E.C.

Marcus looked at Oliver in disbelief.

“If that’s Ethan’s…”

Oliver finished quietly,

“…then he left something behind.”

And for the first time in twenty-eight years…

The ocean itself had begun to give up its secrets.