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**The Forgotten Ledger**
**Chapter 14**
The drive to my mother's house was filled with a mix of anticipation and dread. The morning sun cast long shadows across the streets, mirroring the dark thoughts that clouded my mind. I needed answers, and I hoped that revisiting my father's past might provide them.
My mother greeted me with a warm smile, though her eyes held a trace of worry. "It's been a while since you visited," she said, ushering me inside. The house was filled with memories, each room a testament to the life we once shared as a family.
"I was hoping to look through some of Dad's old things," I explained, trying to keep my voice steady. "There are some cases I'm working on that might be connected to his past."
She nodded, leading me to the attic where my father's belongings were stored. Dust motes danced in the sunlight streaming through the small window, and the air was thick with the scent of old paper and forgotten memories.
As I sifted through boxes of files and personal items, a sense of nostalgia washed over me. I found photographs of family vacations, letters from old friends, and commendations from his years on the force. But it was a worn leather-bound journal that caught my attention.
Flipping through its pages, I discovered notes and entries that painted a different picture of my father than the one I had known. He had been involved in a case that went horribly wrong—a case where an innocent man was framed to protect someone powerful. My father had been complicit, whether by choice or coercion, and the guilt had haunted him for years.
Reading the journal, memories I had long buried began to surface. I recalled overhearing hushed conversations between my parents, the tension that had filled our home during that time. I had pushed those memories aside, too young to fully understand their significance.
The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. MIDNIGHT's pattern of targeting those who had committed wrongs, those who had escaped justice, suddenly made sense. My father had been part of a cover-up, and in MIDNIGHT's eyes, that made him a target.
I closed the journal, my mind racing. The truth was a bitter pill to swallow, but it was a crucial piece of the puzzle. I needed to confront this revelation, to understand how it connected to the present and what it meant for my pursuit of MIDNIGHT.
As I left my mother's house, the weight of my father's actions pressed heavily on my shoulders. The road ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but I was more determined than ever to see justice served—not just for the victims, but for my father as well.
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