The AI I Programmed Claimed My Body Was Sealed Behind My Bedroom Wall — Then My Son-In-Law Handed Me An Eviction Notice
The forensics team had been delayed by a last-minute warrant issue. Arthur seized the opportunity, returning to the exposed cavity in the master bedroom wall. The bloodstained coat, still draped over the skeleton, seemed to draw him in.
He gently lifted the stiff fabric, the material cold and clammy beneath his touch. He’d barely looked at it beyond the ring. Now, he probed the interior lining, searching for anything missed in his initial shock.
His fingers brushed against a stiff, unyielding object sewn into a hidden pocket. With careful effort, he tore the old stitching. He pulled out a small, water-damaged pocket diary.
The cover was a faded leather, the pages swollen and warped. But the handwriting, though a little smudged, was unmistakable. It was his own.
The date on the first visible entry was October 1994. Arthur felt a jolt of ice in his veins. This was the month Thomas had vanished.
He flipped to the last complete entry. “October 27, 1994,” it read. “Another fight with Thomas. He threatened to expose everything, to take the estate, to ruin Eleanor.”
Arthur read on, his breath catching. “It escalated. A terrible argument. He pushed me. I pushed back. There was a fall… I don’t remember clearly.”
His eyes scanned the next line. “Eleanor said he was gone. Said she would handle it. I have to believe her. I have to forget.”
Arthur stared at his own words, written in his own hand. A violent argument with Thomas. A fall. Eleanor. He had no memory of this. None at all. He remembered Thomas being a nuisance, but not a physical confrontation, not in 1994.
The missing ring, the skeleton, Beatrice’s confession. And now, his own diary describing a violent confrontation he couldn’t recall. A chilling realization began to dawn. He wasn’t just a recent victim of Julian’s schemes. He was part of the secret, tangled in the past in a way he couldn’t comprehend.
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