Chapter 17 - The Man in the BunkerThe Northbridge bunker was hidden beneath an abandoned factory.
I entered alone.
At least, that's what I had promised.
I didn't go alone.
Harold followed.
Neither of us spoke.
Inside, the air smelled metallic.
Lights flickered overhead.
Then a door opened.
Lucy sat in a chair.
Alive.
Across from her stood a man.
Older.
Gray hair.
A face I had seen in photographs thousands of times.
My father.
I couldn't breathe.
He looked directly at me.
“Jenny.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“You're alive.”
He nodded.
“For nine years.”
I walked forward.
“You let me believe you were dead.”
“I had to.”
“You let Mom destroy everything.”
“She didn't know everything.”
“You used me.”
His expression changed.
“Yes.”
My heart broke.
“You made me buy my own house.”
“I needed you to establish control over the property without alerting Northbridge.”
“You let me work two jobs for six years.”
“I couldn't give you the money directly.”
“You watched me struggle.”
“I watched you become strong.”
I wanted to hate him.
But I couldn't stop staring.
“You're a monster.”
“I might be.”
He looked at Lucy.
“She knows.”
Lucy was crying.
“What?”
Dad sighed.
“Your mother didn't kill me.”
“Who did?”
He looked at Harold.
Harold lowered his eyes.
“My brother helped me disappear.”
I stared.
“So who was in the hospital?”
“A body.”
A substitute.
A carefully arranged death.
Steve had believed he was helping Mom kill Dad.
But Dad had anticipated everything.
“Then why bring me here?”
“Because Northbridge is ending.”
He showed me the bunker.
Rows of servers.
Boxes of documents.
Recordings.
Photographs.
Every crime documented.
“And me?”
“You are the final owner.”
“Of Northbridge?”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“Of the evidence.”
I looked at him.
“If I release this, everyone goes down.”
“Yes.”
“Mom.”
“Yes.”
“Steve.”
“Yes.”
“Harold.”
He nodded.
“Everyone.”
I stared at my father.
“And you?”
He smiled sadly.
“Especially me.”
I felt tears burn my eyes.
“You knew.”
“I know what I did.”
He handed me a drive.
“This is your choice.”
I looked at Lucy.
Then Harold.
Then my father.
Then I pressed the button.
Every Northbridge file began uploading to government servers.
Dad watched the progress bar.
When it reached one hundred percent, he closed his eyes.
“It’s over.”
But a message appeared on the screen.
UPLOAD RECEIVED.
Then another.
AUTHORITIES DISPATCHED.
Then one final line.
PRIMARY SUSPECT: JENNY CARTER.
I stared.
My father looked at me.
“I was wrong.”
“What?”
He whispered:
May you like
“They didn't need me alive.”
“They needed you.”
