CHAPTER 5 – The Secret Buried Under Cell 17
The old prisoner's words echoed through the warehouse.
"He stole your father's name."
The commander didn't deny it.
Instead, he slowly removed the military insignia from his uniform and dropped it onto the concrete floor.
"I never wanted his life," he whispered. "I was ordered to become him."
The little boy stared in disbelief.
"What do you mean?"
Before the commander could answer, every light in the warehouse flickered violently.
A steel panel in the floor suddenly slid open.
An elevator began rising from deep underground.
When the doors opened, an elderly woman in a wheelchair emerged, escorted by four heavily armed guards.
Every officer immediately saluted.
Even the commander lowered his head.
The little boy's eyes widened.
"Grandma..."
The old woman smiled sadly.
"My sweet boy... you've finally found the truth."
She looked directly at the commander.
"You kept your promise."
Then she turned toward the old prisoner.
"And you survived longer than I expected."
The prisoners exchanged confused glances.
No one understood how this frail old woman could command such respect.
She slowly reached into her coat and placed a thick file on the floor.
Across the cover, stamped in red letters, were the words:
PROJECT HEIR – ORIGINAL FAMILY
The commander refused to touch it.
"So... it's finally over."
The old woman nodded.
"No."
"It's only beginning."
She opened the file.
Inside were dozens of photographs.
The first showed the little boy as a baby.
The second showed the commander holding him.
The third...
Made everyone's blood run cold.
It showed the old prisoner wearing the exact same military uniform as the commander—standing beside the little boy's mother.
The date on the photo was taken two years after official records claimed he had been executed.
The commander whispered,
"They erased you..."
The old prisoner slowly nodded.
"They erased all of us."
Then the old woman revealed the final page.
A handwritten list.
Three names.
Each had a red checkmark beside it.
The little boy read them aloud.
"My mother..."
"The commander..."
"Prisoner 417..."
He looked up in confusion.
"There are only three names."
The old woman's smile disappeared.
"There was a fourth."
She pointed toward the giant warehouse doors.
"They're here."
A deafening explosion ripped through the entrance.
Smoke filled the building.
Out of the flames walked a tall man in a black suit, holding a pistol in one hand...
And a faded family photograph in the other.
He looked directly at the little boy and said,
May you like
"I've spent eight years searching for you."
"Because I'm the only man who knows who your real father is."
