When I unfolded the note and saw Ben’s handwriting, my hands started shaking.

*If anything happens to me, don’t believe what you’re told. I made a mistake. Go to the cabin. Look under the rug.*

I read it again and again, my heart racing.

Lucy began to cry. “The police lied. It wasn’t what Aaron said.”

She glanced behind me, and I followed her gaze.

Aaron was asleep in my bed.

The same man who had told me it was just an accident.

That night, I didn’t sleep at all.

By morning, I knew what I had to do.

I told my oldest daughter I had to step out and asked her to watch her sisters. I didn’t mention the note—or where I was going. I didn’t tell Aaron either.

The drive to the cabin felt longer than ever. When I passed the memorial cross, my chest tightened painfully.

When I arrived, I hesitated at the door before forcing myself inside.

The air was stale, the furniture untouched—but something felt off.

There wasn’t enough dust.

Someone had been there.

My stomach dropped.

I pulled back the rug and noticed a loose floorboard. When I lifted it, I found a hidden compartment containing a recording device sealed in a plastic bag.

My hands shook as I turned it on.

Then Ben’s voice filled the room.

“If you’re hearing this, something went wrong. I didn’t want to bring this up at home, not around the kids. Aaron is in serious trouble… worse than he admits. I discovered he altered a case report last year. If it comes out, his career is finished… maybe more.”

At first, I didn’t understand what this had to do with Ben’s death.

Then his voice continued, strained with fear:

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