Chapter 15 - The Queen of the CrownMercer took Beatrice to an abandoned church in lower Manhattan.
Rain battered the stained-glass windows.
Dante followed.
He no longer trusted Mercer.
Neither did Beatrice.
But she had stopped trusting almost everyone.
Inside the church was a vault.
Mercer unlocked it.
Inside was one chair.
One screen.
One black box.
Beatrice walked toward it.
“What is this?”
Mercer said:
“The truth.”
The screen activated.
Thomas appeared.
Older.
Tired.
Terrified.
Beatrice stared.
“If you're watching this, then Black Crown has failed.”
Mercer looked away.
Thomas continued.
“I built Black Crown because the Wilkes family was being hunted.”
Beatrice frowned.
“By whom?”
Thomas looked directly into the camera.
“Governments.”
“Banks.”
“Private intelligence firms.”
“And men who believed wealth gave them the right to own human lives.”
He paused.
“Black Crown began as protection.”
“It became power.”
“And power corrupted the men I trusted.”
Beatrice understood.
Her father had created the monster.
Then lost control of it.
Thomas continued.
“The $4.8 million was never stolen.”
“It was payment.”
“To buy evidence.”
“Evidence against Black Crown's members.”
The screen changed.
Thousands of names appeared.
Politicians.
Judges.
Billionaires.
Police officials.
Corporate leaders.
Beatrice stared.
Mercer whispered:
“Everything your father collected is here.”
“Why me?”
Thomas answered on the screen.
“Because you were the only person I trusted to destroy it.”
Beatrice's chest tightened.
“You're the Crown.”
Dante whispered.
“Yes.”
Mercer nodded.
“Not because of blood.”
“Because the final trust requires a human decision.”
Thomas's final message appeared.
“You can keep the empire.”
“You can control the network.”
“You can become exactly what I was.”
The screen went dark.
A second screen appeared.
DESTROY BLACK CROWN?
Two choices.
YES.
NO.
Beatrice looked at Dante.
“What would you do?”
He answered honestly.
“Destroy it.”
“Why?”
“Because no one should own that kind of power.”
Mercer laughed softly.
“Easy to say.”
Beatrice turned to him.
“You served my father.”
“Yes.”
“You loved him.”
“Yes.”
“And you watched him become what he feared.”
Mercer looked down.
“Yes.”
Beatrice approached the screen.
Her finger hovered over the choice.
Then her phone rang.
Maggie.
Beatrice answered.
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
Her sister's voice trembled.
“Bea, someone is outside.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
A man's voice entered the call.
Charles.
Alive.
“Hello, daughter.”
Beatrice froze.
“How?”
“Your mother wasn't the only person who lied.”
She looked at Mercer.
His face had gone pale.
Charles continued:
“Thomas wasn't your father.”
Beatrice's hand went cold.
“What?”
“Your mother never told you the final secret.”
Dante stepped closer.
Charles laughed.
“Ask her.”
The call ended.
The room went silent.
Beatrice slowly turned.
Her mother stood in the doorway.
She had followed them.
Her face was broken with fear.
Beatrice whispered:
“Mom.”
Her mother began crying.
“No.”
“Tell me.”
“Please.”
“Tell me the truth.”
Her mother closed her eyes.
Then said:
“Thomas was not your father.”
Beatrice felt the world disappear beneath her.
“Then who was?”
Her mother looked at Dante.
Nobody moved.
Finally, she whispered:
“Dante's father.”
Silence.
Dante stared at her.
Beatrice turned toward him.
The blood drained from both their faces.
Her mother continued:
“Your father was the man who built the original Black Crown.”
Beatrice looked at the screen.
At the millions of names.
At the empire.
At Dante.
And suddenly every moment of the past forty-eight hours rearranged itself.
The hand he had offered her.
The protection.
The folder.
The $4.8 million.
The way he had called her his queen.
None of it had been coincidence.
Dante whispered:
“I didn't know.”
Beatrice could barely breathe.
On the screen, the final choice remained.
DESTROY BLACK CROWN?
YES.
NO.
Her hand moved toward the button.
Then the screen changed.
A new message appeared.
WARNING: IF DESTROYED, ALL PROTECTED NAMES WILL BE RELEASED.
Beatrice stopped.
The entire city could burn.
Or Black Crown could survive.
She looked at Dante.
He looked back.
For the first time, he wasn't feared.
He was afraid.
Beatrice placed her finger on the screen.
And whispered:
“Then let them all see the truth.”
She pressed YES.
Every screen in the room went black.
Across Manhattan, millions of devices lit up at once.
Names began appearing.
One after another.
A judge.
A senator.
A billionaire.
A police commissioner.
A chief executive.
Then Charles Wilkes.
Then Harold Mercer.
Then Thomas Wilkes.
The final name appeared.
BEATRICE GALLAGHER.
Underneath it:
ARCHITECT.
Beatrice stared.
“I didn't do this.”
Dante's phone began ringing.
Then Mercer stepped backward.
His face was white.
“That's impossible.”
Beatrice looked at him.
“What?”
He pointed at the screen.
“The system isn't listing the people who belonged to Black Crown.”
He swallowed.
“It's listing the people who will replace them.”
Beatrice's heart stopped.
The screen changed one final time.
A single sentence appeared:
May you like
WELCOME TO THE CROWN, QUEEN BEATRICE.
And somewhere across Manhattan, every locked door marked 1739 opened at once.
