# Part 3: Austin’s Brother
Theresa stared at the photograph.
Her hands trembled so violently she almost dropped it.
The image was old and faded.
A young Ernest stood beside a beautiful woman with dark hair.
In her arms was a baby boy.
On the back were the words:
**”Austin has a brother.”**
The air left Theresa’s lungs.
“No…”
For forty-two years of marriage, Ernest had never mentioned another child.
Not once.
Not ever.
—
That night, Theresa couldn’t sleep.
The ocean outside her cabin was black and endless.
She kept staring at the photograph.
Questions swirled through her mind.
Who was the woman?
Who was the child?
Why had Ernest hidden this?
And why reveal it only after his death?
At sunrise, she opened the final folder on the flash drive.
Inside was a sealed video marked:
**FOR THERESA ONLY.**
She clicked PLAY.
—
Ernest appeared again.
This time he looked exhausted.
His eyes were red.
As though he had spent days crying before recording it.
“Theresa…”
His voice broke.
“If you’ve reached this file, then you’ve already seen the photograph.”
She froze.
“Before you hate me…”
He lowered his head.
“…please hear the whole story.”
—
The video shifted to another photograph.
A young woman smiling.
Holding the same baby.
Her name appeared underneath.
**Rebecca Dawson.**
Ernest swallowed hard.
“Before I met you, Rebecca and I were together.”
Theresa’s chest tightened.
“We were very young.”
He paused.
“When she became pregnant, I panicked.”
Tears appeared in his eyes.
“I wasn’t ready to be a father.”
—
Theresa felt her own tears forming.
She had never seen Ernest look so ashamed.
“I left.”
The confession hit like a hammer.
“I told myself I’d come back.”
“But I didn’t.”
Years of regret filled his face.
“Rebecca raised our son alone.”
—
Theresa sat motionless.
The room felt colder.
Much colder.
Then Ernest spoke again.
“And twenty-seven years later…”
His voice shook.
“He found me.”
—
Theresa gasped.
The screen showed recent photographs.
A grown man.
Tall.
Dark-haired.
Strong jaw.
The resemblance was undeniable.
He looked exactly like Ernest.
And disturbingly…
Like Austin.
—
“My son’s name is Daniel.”
Theresa whispered it aloud.
“Daniel…”
Ernest nodded on screen.
“He never wanted money.”
“He never wanted the house.”
“He only wanted answers.”
—
Then came the bombshell.
The one that changed everything.
“Austin met Daniel.”
Theresa froze.
What?
Austin knew?
—
“Austin discovered him six years ago.”
Ernest continued.
“I begged Austin to keep it private until I could tell you myself.”
The next words shattered her.
“He agreed.”
“But later he began using the secret against me.”
—
Theresa’s stomach dropped.
No.
No.
No.
—
The screen displayed emails.
Hundreds of them.
Austin demanding money.
Demanding property.
Demanding access to accounts.
Threatening to reveal Daniel’s existence.
Threatening to destroy the family.
Threatening to humiliate Ernest publicly.
—
Theresa felt physically sick.
Her son had blackmailed his own dying father.
—
Ernest looked directly into the camera.
“I wasn’t afraid of losing the house.”
“I wasn’t afraid of losing money.”
A tear rolled down his cheek.
“I was afraid of losing you.”
—
Theresa burst into tears.
For the first time since his death.
Not because he had another son.
But because she finally understood how frightened he had been.
—
Suddenly her phone rang.
Unknown number.
Miami.
She answered.
“Hello?”
A deep male voice replied.
“Mrs. Theresa?”
“Yes?”
“My name is Daniel.”
Her heart stopped.
The photograph slipped from her fingers.
“I think…”
His voice cracked.
“…I think we’re family.”
—
Neither spoke for several seconds.
Then Daniel quietly said:
“I just found out Austin was arrested.”
Theresa closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“He called me before the police arrived.”
A chill ran down her spine.
“What did he want?”
Daniel hesitated.
Then answered.
“He wanted something.”
“What?”
Another silence.
A terrible silence.
Finally Daniel spoke.
“The flash drive.”
—
Theresa’s blood turned to ice.
Austin knew about it.
And he wanted it badly.
Very badly.
Then Daniel said six words that made her heart pound:
**”Mrs. Theresa… he’s not acting alone.”**
