Mr. McCourtney's Dark Secret [4]

It took me fourteen months to finally keep my promise.

The truth was, our dream house had already been purchased months before I proposed to Sophia. I found it while traveling for an assignment and bought it on the spot. It was originally located in a mid-sized city, but when I began to plan my final move, I executed an emergency relocation: I hired a discreet moving company to disassemble and transport the house—piece by piece—to a small, picturesque town I had scouted out in secret. A quiet, beautiful place with a friendly community: Town M.

After my supervisor rejected my resignation, she assigned me a major mission—a critical operation for the organization.

If you've ever heard of the Goof War, let's just say... I had a hand in starting it.

My mission was to engineer conflict between two rival nations in the Middle East. My job was to destabilize both sides, plant false evidence, and escalate mistrust until one finally attacked the other. The stronger country invaded the weaker, prompting international condemnation and a multi-nation war.

Of course, the official reason was "peacekeeping." The real reason was much simpler: the stronger nation had refused to sign an agreement with the organization to hand over partial control of its petroleum reserves. The war was punishment. And I was the trigger.

But that war also gave me a rare chance: a window to escape.

According to the organization, I was stationed in the weaker country at the time of the invasion. One hour before the attack began, I submitted a report confirming my presence in a vulnerable sector.

That night, the city was bombed heavily.

In the aftermath, my "body" was found among the rubble—burned beyond recognition. The DNA sample planted on it, courtesy of a hidden ally I bribed within the morgue system, matched mine perfectly. The organization retrieved the corpse and declared me dead.

In reality, I had slipped out days earlier under a different alias, hiding out in a neutral country thousands of miles away.

There, I underwent the Face-Off Protocol—a top-tier, irreversible identity transformation. Not just facial reconstruction, but bone structure alteration, dental replacement, and even damage to my vocal cords to permanently alter my voice.

When it was done, I had become someone else entirely:Thomas McCourtney.

Five months later, I returned to the country under my new identity.

I sent Sophia a secret letter, explaining that I had suffered a horrific accident and had undergone extensive surgery. I told her where to meet me: the airport in Town M, on a specific day, at a specific time.

When she first saw me, she was in shock. I didn't just look different—I was different. Even my voice had changed.

But then I told her things. Private things. Details that no one else could know but me. And slowly, her disbelief faded. She embraced me—hesitantly at first, then fully.

We got married the next day at a small local church.

Then, I took her to our dream house.

She was in awe. I had memorized every detail from a drawing she once made—a childlike sketch of her dream home. This house matched it perfectly. I had spent months renovating it to mirror that drawing down to the last window frame.

I had bought the land in the nicest neighborhood in Town M, waiting patiently for the day I could bring her here.

And finally, I had.

The woman of my dreams.The house of her dreams.The life I had fought so long to build.

And just when I thought that was the happiest moment of my life… this happened.

"Honey..."

A soft whisper pulled me from my sleep, weaving through my mind like a breeze.

I opened my eyes groggily to find Sophia standing beside the bed, a smile on her lips.

Still half-asleep, I asked, "What… what's wrong, Pumpkin?" My voice was hoarse.

She said nothing at first—just handed me a small strip of thick paper.

"What's this?" I asked, instinctively taking it.

"How many lines do you see?" she asked instead, eyes twinkling.

I squinted and tried to focus. "...Two?"

She nodded, her smile widening.

"So...?" I asked, still lost.

"You're going to be a father," she whispered, gently squeezing my arm.

Those words banished every trace of sleep from my mind. I shot upright.

"Fa— You're... you're expecting?" I asked in disbelief.

She nodded again.

I leapt out of bed, swept her into my arms, and spun her around the room. Her laughter echoed with joy. I put her down after a couple of turns and kissed her hard on the lips.

"Are you happy?" she asked breathlessly.

"Of course I am, Pumpkin."How could I not be? I had everything.

The woman I loved.The life I craved.And now... a child on the way.

For the next six months, life was perfect.

I got a job at a local contractor—simple 9-to-5 work, building and renovating homes around the neighborhood. The pay was modest, but I didn't care. I didn't need the money.

I still had more than enough saved from my years as an executor—enough to cover a lifetime's expenses in this quiet town. But I wanted a routine. Something normal.

Sophia worked as an art teacher at the local school.

Every day, we woke up at 7 AM, had breakfast together, then I'd drive her to work before heading to my office. At noon, I picked her up for lunch and dropped her home, then returned to work. After five, I came straight home to her.

Evenings were spent watching TV, having dinner with neighbors, or playing cards. Weekends were for grocery shopping and buying things for the baby.

To some people, it might've sounded boring.

To me, it was everything I ever wanted—a life I had dreamed of since I was a teenager.

-

"Are you having lunch at home today, Honey?" Sophia asked, handing me my suitcase.

"Of course, Pumpkin," I said, giving her a wide smile. Her eyes lit up at my answer, and the sight filled my heart.

"I'm heading out now, okay?" I added, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

She nodded and walked with me to the car.

She was eight months pregnant, and though she insisted she was fine, I had asked her to start her maternity leave early. I also hired a kind local woman to stay with her during the day—to help with the house and ensure Sophia didn't overexert herself.

My office was just seven minutes from home.

My boss, Mr. Carlson, was the most diligent man I'd ever met. He was always the first one to arrive, and that morning was no different. When I pulled into the lot at 8:30 AM, his car was already parked in its usual spot.

After placing my suitcase on my desk, I decided to head straight to his office. We had a scheduled meeting at 9 AM, but since we were both early, I figured we could start ahead of time.

"Mr. Carlson?" I knocked on his door. "Can I come in?"

Silence.

Odd.

I knocked again. Still no response.

I hesitated, then reached for the doorknob. It turned easily. Unlocked.

I slowly pushed the door open… and froze.

My blood ran cold.

Mr. Carlson was lying on the floor, one hand clutching his chest, his mouth slightly open, his eyes squinting in pain—lifeless.

At first glance, it looked like a heart attack. That's exactly what the police and coroner would later conclude after reviewing the autopsy report. Natural causes. No foul play.

But I knew better.

Because next to his head, on the floor, was a single sheet of paper—stark against the carpet.

A short message was scrawled across it:

"Hello, Iggy. We're glad you're alive.Unlike this poor man."