Chapter 11 - Harold smiled from the screen.“Elena, you look just like Claire.”
Dante stepped between her and the monitor.
“What do you want?”
“You know what I want.”
“The archive.”
“No.”
Harold's smile widened.
“Something far more valuable.”
Elena stared at the screen.
“My memory.”
“Exactly.”
Julian approached.
“Why?”
“Because Claire hid the access code in your daughter's mind.”
Elena froze.
“She had no idea she'd done it.”
Harold laughed.
“She designed it beautifully.”
“You used my mother.”
“I loved your mother.”
“You murdered her.”
“I gave her a choice.”
“What choice?”
“Give me the archive.”
“And if she refused?”
“You know the answer.”
Elena's hands curled into fists.
“You made me watch.”
Harold's face darkened.
“Your mother made you watch.”
“No.”
“She wanted you to understand who the enemy was.”
Elena remembered.
Red tie.
Black coat.
The sound of rain.
Her mother's voice.
Look at him, Elena.
She gasped.
“There were two men.”
Dante nodded.
“Yes.”
“One was you.”
“Yes.”
“The other was Harold.”
“Yes.”
“But I remember you holding the gun.”
Dante's expression softened.
“I wasn't holding the gun.”
Elena closed her eyes.
Memory shifted.
She saw it.
Dante reaching for the weapon.
Not holding it.
Harold's hand pushing it toward him.
Harold firing.
Dante diving toward Claire.
The memory had been altered.
Harold had planted the image.
Elena looked at the screen.
“You changed my memory.”
“No.”
“You paid someone to change it.”
“I gave them the opportunity.”
Julian stared at the screen.
“You killed my father.”
Harold smiled.
“You still don't understand, son.”
“What?”
“You were never my son.”
Silence.
Julian's face went white.
Harold continued.
“Your mother was Claire's sister.”
Elena stared.
“What?”
Harold said:
“Julian Mercer was never born a Mercer.”
Julian looked at Elena.
“We're related.”
Elena couldn't speak.
The room seemed to tilt.
Harold smiled.
“You and Julian share the same mother.”
“No.”
Julian staggered backward.
“That's impossible.”
“Your real mother was Claire's sister.”
Elena suddenly remembered the photograph.
Two women.
Claire.
Another woman.
The woman Elena had thought was her sister.
She wasn't Dante's daughter.
She was Claire's sister.
Julian was her son.
Elena and Julian were cousins.
The betrayal became even uglier.
Julian had stolen designs from his own cousin.
He hadn't even known.
Harold continued.
“Claire discovered the truth about my financial empire. She was going to expose me.”
“And the archive?”
“She hid it.”
“Where?”
Harold smiled.
“Right where she knew you would never look.”
Dante's phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“Dante?”
He handed the phone to Elena.
A live feed showed the Grand Aurelia gala.
The guests were being evacuated.
Then the camera turned toward the central presentation.
Someone had written across Elena's architectural model in red paint:
FATHER'S GIRL.
Underneath:
COME HOME.
Elena stared.
Harold's voice came through the speaker.
“Come to the old Hart house.”
“The house burned down.”
“Not all of it.”
“What happens there?”
“You'll remember everything.”
The screen went black.
Dante grabbed Elena's hand.
“I'm going with you.”
She looked at him.
“I don't know whether I can trust you.”
“You don't have to.”
He squeezed her fingers.
“I'll prove it.”
Julian stood.
“I'll come too.”
Dante looked at him.
“No.”
Julian lifted a gun.
“You don't get to decide anymore.”
The three of them left the clinic.
Behind them, the screens turned on again.
A final message appeared.
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THE LAST MEMORY IS NOT ABOUT CLAIRE.
IT'S ABOUT DANTE.
