Chapter 69: MEMORY

(Caden's POV)

I slammed my office door harder than necessary, the sound echoing through the empty corridor before everything went quiet again. Aria’s voice wouldn’t stop replaying in my head.

I dragged a hand down my face, exhaling sharply as I moved to my desk and dropped into the chair.

“Fine,” I muttered, powering on the computer. “Let’s see what you think you know.”

The system loaded slowly, like it was dragging its feet. My fingers tapped impatiently against the desk until the search bar blinked alive. I typed the name in without hesitation. Theodore Winters. The file appeared instantly. I clicked it open.

“Deceased. Enforcer. Cause of death—rogue attack. Twelve years ago,” I read under my breath, scanning the page. “Investigator—Elder Thorne. Case closed.” I leaned back, frowning at the screen. “So why the hell does she think my father had anything to do with this?”

I scrolled, eyes narrowing. Everything looked standard. Too standard. “No irregularities. No flags. Just another dead enforcer.” I shook my head, irritation building. “You’re wrong, Aria. You have to be.”

But my hand didn’t move away from the mouse. It hovered, hesitated, then clicked into the deeper records. Employment logs. Archived entries. My jaw tightened as more files opened. “Let’s go further back,” I said quietly, leaning in.

The system lagged for a second before pulling up older entries. My eyes scanned line after line until one caught my attention. I stilled. “Final entry… one week before death.” I clicked it open, the text expanding across the screen. My chest tightened as I read.

Filed formal complaint regarding financial discrepancies in alliance fund transfers. Requesting audit.

I went still. “What…?” My voice dropped, disbelief creeping in. “Financial discrepancies?” I leaned closer, scrolling down, but the rest of the complaint was missing. “Where’s the rest of it?” I muttered, clicking through tabs. “Why is it incomplete?”

My fingers moved faster now, digging through archived backups. “Everything is logged,” I said, more to myself than anyone else. “Nothing just disappears.” The system flickered again before a hidden file popped up. My breath hitched.

“Original submission,” I read, clicking it open.

The document filled the screen, detailed and precise. Numbers. Dates. Account transfers. My eyes moved quickly, trying to keep up, but then they stopped.

A name.

My father’s name.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “That’s not… that’s not right.” I scrolled again, heart pounding harder with every line. “Misallocated funds… unauthorized withdrawals… alliance accounts…” My grip tightened on the edge of the desk. “This is—this is wrong.”

But it wasn’t.

The evidence was right there, clear and undeniable. Theodore Winters hadn’t just suspected something. He’d documented it. Proved it.

And my father’s name was all over it.

My chest tightened painfully. “No,” I said again, louder this time. “There has to be a mistake.” I stood abruptly, pacing the room, running a hand through my hair. “Maybe it’s forged. Maybe it’s incomplete. Maybe—” My words cut off as a sharp pain exploded behind my eyes.

I staggered, grabbing the edge of the desk to steady myself. “What the—” The pain intensified, like something was pushing back, fighting me. My vision blurred, the room tilting.

“No… no, this doesn’t make sense,” I muttered, gripping my head. “My father wouldn’t—he couldn’t—”

The pain spiked again, sharper this time, forcing a groan from my throat. My knees nearly buckled as flashes of something no flickered through my mind.

A memory.

I froze.

“No,” I whispered, but it was already there.

Aria. Standing in my office. Months ago. Her eyes wide, terrified, her hands shaking as she clutched her coat. “Your father threatened me,” she said, her voice breaking. “Please, I need help.”

My chest tightened as I watched it unfold, but something felt off. Wrong. I wasn’t just remembering—I was reliving it.

My body moved, but it didn’t feel like mine. My arms crossed, my expression cold, detached. “You mean nothing to me,” I heard myself say, the words coming out flat, empty.

Aria flinched like I’d struck her. “Caden, please—”

“Leave,” I said, turning away from her like she didn’t exist.

Her face shattered, pain flashing across it before she turned and ran. The door slammed behind her, the sound echoing—

And then—

“Good,” a voice said from behind me.

I froze.

Marcus.

I turned in the memory, my heart pounding, but my body moved too slowly, like it was being controlled. He stood there, watching the door Aria had just gone through, his expression calm. Satisfied.

“Good,” he repeated. “She’s gone.”

The memory shattered.

I gasped, stumbling back in my office, my hand flying to my face as something warm hit my lips. I wiped it away, staring at the red smear on my fingers.

Blood.

“What the hell—” My breathing came fast, uneven, my head still pounding like it was trying to split open. “That… that wasn’t right.” I leaned heavily against the desk, trying to steady myself. “That didn’t happen like that.”

But it had.

Or something like it had.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to grab onto the memory again, but it slipped away, fragments breaking apart before I could hold them. “No,” I growled, frustration building. “Come back.” Nothing. Just pain and scattered pieces that refused to fit together.

Marcus was there.

That much was clear.

During the rejection.

During the moment I’d pushed Aria away.

My chest tightened painfully. “Was I… influenced?” I whispered, the word tasting wrong in my mouth. “Was that… me?”

The answer didn’t come.

Something fogged my thoughts, dulling the edges of what I’d seen. But it couldn’t erase it completely. Not anymore.

Fragments remained.

Enough to make one thing clear.

“My father…” I exhaled shakily, staring at the screen where Theodore Winters’ complaint still glowed. “You’re not innocent.”

The realization sat heavy in my chest, cold and sharp. I didn’t know the full truth yet. Didn’t know how deep it went. But the doubt was there now, and it wasn’t going away.

I moved back to the desk, hands still shaking slightly as I pulled open the top drawer. Papers shifted as I dug through them, searching until I found what I needed. A small card, worn at the edges.

Garrison.

I stared at the name for a second before grabbing my phone. “If anyone knows what really happened…” I muttered, already dialing.

The line rang once. Twice.

Then clicked.

“Alpha?” Garrison’s voice came through, steady but cautious. “It’s late.”

“I need to see you,” I said immediately, my voice rough. “Now.”

A pause. “Is everything alright?”

“No.” I ran a hand through my hair, pacing again. “Nothing is alright. I need answers, Garrison. About Theodore Winters. About the investigation. About everything that happened twelve years ago.”

Another pause, longer this time. “That’s… a dangerous line of questioning, Alpha.”

“I’m past caring about that,” I snapped. “Can you meet me or not?”

“Yes,” he said finally. “My office. Give me twenty minutes.”

“I’ll be there.”

I ended the call, gripping the phone tightly for a second before dropping it onto the desk. My chest still felt tight, my head still aching, but the fog was thinner now. Cracked.

Not gone.

But weakening.

I grabbed my jacket, heading for the door without another thought. As I stepped into the hallway, the silence pressed in again, heavier this time.

Because now I knew.

Something was wrong.

With my father.

With the past.

With me.

And if I didn’t figure it out soon…

I might already be too late.