Chapter 4 - The Dead Man's RecordingWe watched the recording three times.

No editing.

No obvious manipulation.

The timestamp showed two years after Victor Vance's supposed death.

Marcus sat with his hands folded.

“What do you see?”

“Victor.”

“Obviously.”

“I mean, what do you see?”

I replayed it.

Victor's behavior was calm.

No signs of coercion.

He seemed completely aware of the conversation.

Then I noticed something on the table.

A newspaper.

I paused the video.

The date was visible.

April 14.

A year after his funeral.

I looked at Marcus.

“That proves he was alive.”

“It proves the recording was made after the reported death.”

“Exactly.”

Marcus nodded.

“But it creates a bigger problem.”

“Which is?”

“Who recorded it?”

I looked at the laptop.

“Lily?”

“Maybe.”

“She said she copied the files.”

“That doesn't mean she created them.”

We searched the metadata.

The original recordings had been uploaded from an encrypted server.

The location was hidden.

But one file contained a GPS tag.

Marcus looked at the coordinates.

“That's interesting.”

“Where?”

He told me.

I recognized the address.

An abandoned textile factory fifteen miles outside the city.

Years ago, I had repaired a truck there.

It had been closed for more than a decade.

Marcus said, “We don't go tonight.”

“We do.”

“Thomas.”

“My daughter nearly died.”

“That’s exactly why you're emotional.”

I turned toward him.

“I am not emotional.”

He looked at me for several seconds.

Then smiled faintly.

“You still lie badly.”

The next morning, we went anyway.

The factory was empty.

Broken windows.

Rusting machinery.

Dust covering everything.

We found nothing for forty minutes.

Then I noticed a door.

No handle.

Only a keypad.

Marcus entered a code.

The door opened.

A small room was hidden behind it.

Inside were monitors.

Hard drives.

Cameras.

And hundreds of files.

Someone had been monitoring the Vance family for years.

Lily appeared on one of the screens.

Daniel appeared on another.

Marissa.

Victor.

Bank executives.

Judges.

Police officials.

Politicians.

The entire network.

Then I saw myself.

A camera had been positioned outside my garage.

For months.

Maybe years.

I stared.

“Why were they watching me?”

Marcus said nothing.

I walked toward the monitor.

A folder was labeled:

CARTER - PRIORITY

I opened it.

There were records going back seventeen years.

My movements.

My business.

Lily's school.

My wife's medical appointments.

Even my old truck.

Someone had documented my life.

Then I saw a file titled:

THOMAS CARTER - BLACKWATER

My hands went cold.

Marcus stepped beside me.

“You never told me you used that name.”

“I haven't used it since 2009.”

“That isn't a name.”

“It was.”

“Then what was Blackwater?”

I swallowed.

“The last investigation I worked before leaving.”

Marcus stared at me.

“You told me you quit because of your brother.”

“I did.”

“You didn't tell me the case continued.”

I said nothing.

Marcus opened the file.

Inside was a scanned government report.

Several pages were redacted.

One section was not.

Asset Thomas Carter successfully infiltrated financial structure operated by Vance-linked entities.

I stared at the page.

Marcus turned toward me.

“You were already investigating them.”

“I didn't know they were Vance.”

“You knew there was a family.”

“Not which family.”

He looked through more pages.

Then stopped.

“Thomas.”

“What?”

“This report says something else.”

He handed me the paper.

At the bottom was a line.

Asset believed compromised. Termination authorized.

I read it twice.

“My employer tried to kill me?”

Marcus's expression was grim.

“Apparently.”

I stepped away.

For seventeen years, I had believed my brother's death was the reason I left.

Maybe it was only the reason I stayed alive.

A sound came from the hallway.

Footsteps.

Marcus raised a finger.

Silence.

The footsteps stopped outside the door.

Then the lights went out.

Someone shouted.

Gunfire erupted.

Marcus dragged me behind a steel desk.

Bullets tore through the monitors.

“Stay down!”

We waited.

Three shots.

Then silence.

Marcus moved toward the doorway.

A man was lying in the corridor.

Dead.

He had been shot through the chest.

On his hand was a tattoo.

The red V.

But beside him was something else.

A small envelope.

Marcus opened it.

Inside was a photograph of Lily.

On the back, four words were written.

She knows about Noah.

I looked at Marcus.

“Who is Noah?”

Marcus stared at the photograph.

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Then he said:

“Thomas, I think Lily has another secret.”