"Hello, children."
The voice came from the darkness beyond the trees.
Slow.
Calm.
Almost amused.
Every instinct in my body screamed at me to run.
But I couldn't move.
None of us could.
Then a figure emerged from the shadows.
An elderly man.
Tall.
Well-dressed.
Silver hair.
Walking with a cane.
He didn't look dangerous.
He looked like someone's grandfather.
Which somehow made him even more terrifying.
Because his eyes...
His eyes were the same ones from my memory.
The same eyes that had looked directly at three frightened children twenty years ago.
The same eyes that had haunted my dreams.
Richard Blackwood.
He smiled.
"Look at you."
Nobody answered.
His gaze moved across us.
Lucas.
Vanessa.
Ethan.
Then finally...
Me.
And when his eyes settled on mine, his smile faded.
Just slightly.
"As stubborn as ever, Maya."
A chill ran through me.
"You know who I am."
It wasn't a question.
He nodded.
"Of course I do."
Lucas stepped forward.
Anger radiating from every part of him.
"You ruined our lives."
Richard sighed.
The way a tired teacher sighs at a difficult student.
"No, Lucas."
His voice remained calm.
"I saved your life."
Silence.
Even Lucas looked stunned.
"What?"
Richard tapped his cane against the ground.
"Tell them."
Nobody moved.
"Tell them what happened after the lake."
Lucas's face drained of color.
My stomach twisted.
Because suddenly...
Lucas looked guilty.
Very guilty.
Richard noticed.
And smiled.
"There it is."
My heart began pounding.
"Lucas?"
He wouldn't meet my eyes.
Or Ethan's.
Or Vanessa's.
Anyone's.
Then Richard said the words that shattered everything.
"The journalist didn't die that night."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
"What?" Ethan whispered.
Richard nodded.
"He survived."
The world tilted.
Every story.
Every memory.
Every assumption.
Wrong.
"The man was injured."
Richard's voice echoed through the woods.
"Badly injured."
"But alive."
I felt dizzy.
Because if the journalist survived...
Then who died?
Richard looked directly at Lucas.
And answered the question before anyone could ask.
"Your father."
The air left my lungs.
Lucas froze.
Completely frozen.
No anger.
No denial.
Nothing.
Just shock.
Pure shock.
Richard continued.
"The journalist lived."
"Your father did not."
A memory exploded inside my mind.
A man running.
Someone pushed him.
A fall.
A scream.
Then darkness.
I stumbled backward.
Ethan caught me.
"Maya!"
But I wasn't listening.
Because pieces were finally fitting together.
Lucas's father.
The journalist.
The lake.
The cover-up.
The disappearance.
Everything.
Then Richard looked at Lucas again.
"You spent twenty years believing the wrong man killed him."
Lucas's eyes filled with tears.
"No."
"Yes."
"No!"
The scream echoed through the forest.
For the first time since we'd met him...
Lucas looked like a frightened little boy again.
Then Richard opened the folder.
The folder Ethan's father had protected.
The folder someone had killed to obtain.
Inside was a single photograph.
Richard handed it to me.
My hands shook.
I looked down.
And my world stopped.
Because the photograph showed the exact moment Lucas's father fell.
The exact moment.
The killer's face was visible.
Perfectly visible.
Clear as day.
And it wasn't Richard Blackwood.
It wasn't Ethan's father.
It wasn't Vanessa's family.
It wasn't anyone we'd suspected.
It was someone standing beside me.
Someone I trusted.
Someone who had spent the entire journey helping us uncover the truth.
Slowly...
I lifted my eyes from the photograph.
And stared directly at Vanessa.

Do you think Vanessa is guilty?
A. YES
B. She's being framed
C. Someone altered the photo
D. There's still a bigger twist coming