Chapter 9 - The Secret of Emily's MotherThere are moments when the world doesn't break.
It rearranges.
Everything you thought was true simply moves somewhere else.
My wife's name was on that file.
Linda Collins.
My Linda.
The woman who laughed too loudly at Christmas.
The woman who kissed Emily's forehead when she was afraid.
The woman who left me a note on the morning she died.
Take care of our girl.
I stared at Ethan.
“You forged this.”
“No.”
“You expect me to believe my wife was part of this?”
“I expect you to read.”
Emily opened the first document.
A bank transfer.
Then another.
Then another.
All connected to shell companies.
All dated before Emily was born.
She shook her head.
“No.”
The next page was a photograph.
Linda standing beside Victoria Harrington.
Pregnant.
Emily looked at me.
“You knew her?”
I couldn't breathe.
I remembered Linda telling me she had attended a charity event.
I remembered trusting her.
I remembered thinking my life was simple.
Ethan spoke quietly.
“Linda was an investigator.”
“What?”
“She infiltrated Lantern.”
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“Because she fell in love with you.”
The words broke something in me.
“She wanted out.”
“Then?”
“She discovered the ledger.”
“The original one?”
“Yes.”
“She hid it.”
I stared at the case.
“The key.”
Ethan nodded.
“She gave it to you.”
“She died fifteen years ago.”
“I know.”
“Who killed her?”
Ethan's silence was answer enough.
“Victoria.”
Emily covered her mouth.
“No…”
Ethan continued.
“Linda planned to expose the network.”
“She was intercepted.”
“Victoria wanted the ledger.”
“Linda refused.”
“So they killed her.”
I finally found my voice.
“And made it look like an accident.”
Ethan nodded.
“They needed you to believe the same thing you had always believed.”
“That Linda died because of me.”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
For fifteen years I'd carried guilt over her death.
I had believed my old work had put her in danger.
I'd believed leaving the agency meant I had failed her one final time.
And now I learned the truth.
She had been protecting me.
Protecting Emily.
Protecting the ledger.
I looked at Emily.
“I am sorry.”
She shook her head.
“Don't.”
“I should have known.”
“You couldn't.”
“I should have—”
“You were lied to too.”
Her voice cracked.
Then she opened another document.
A handwritten letter.
My handwriting.
I stared.
“This is yours.”
“No.”
It had been signed with my name.
But I had never written it.
The letter said:
Linda, if anything happens, take Emily and disappear. Do not trust Arthur.
Emily looked at me.
“You wrote this?”
“I didn't.”
Ethan stepped closer.
“They forged it.”
“Why?”
“To make Linda believe you had betrayed her.”
I looked at the final page.
There was a date.
Two days before Linda died.
Then something caught my eye.
A handwritten note in the margin.
Three words.
HE KNOWS NOW.
“Who's he?”
Ethan looked toward the door.
“Edward Vale.”
I turned.
“He knew Linda?”
“He ordered her death.”
“Then why is he still alive?”
Ethan's eyes hardened.
“Because he was never the man at the top.”
“Then who is?”
Ethan reached into his pocket.
Pulled out a photograph.
A family.
Edward.
Victoria.
Michael.
And another man.
A man older than Edward.
A man seated in the center.
I recognized him.
Every person in America knew his public face.
But nobody knew his private one.
Ethan whispered:
“William Harrington.”
Michael's grandfather.
Dead for twenty years.
Or so we had been told.
Emily stared at the photograph.
“But he died.”
Ethan looked at me.
“No.”
“He disappeared.”
I felt cold.
“Where is he?”
Ethan answered:
“Under the Harrington estate.”
The warehouse door suddenly exploded inward.
Agents shouted.
Gunfire erupted.
Ethan grabbed Emily.
I fired toward the shadows.
Then a voice came through the smoke.
Victoria.
Calm.
Almost amused.
“Arthur.”
She stepped from behind the doorway.
“You finally learned who your wife really was.”
May you like
Her eyes settled on Emily.
“Now let's see if you can survive learning what your daughter is.”
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