Chapter 7 - I thought grief was something that happened once.When my mother died, I was six.
For years, I remembered almost nothing about her.
A perfume.
A song.
A silver bracelet.
The shape of a hand on my forehead when I was sick.
My father rarely spoke about her.
Whenever I asked, he'd say,
“She loved you very much.”
That was all.
Now he stood in front of me and told me she had never died.
I couldn't breathe.
“You're lying.”
“I wish I were.”
“Why would she disappear?”
“Because she betrayed us.”
“What did she do?”
My father sat beside my bed.
“When you were six, your mother discovered Black Vault.”
“Discovered it?”
“She wanted control.”
“Of Sterling?”
“Of everything.”
I stared at him.
“She tried to use the trust against me.”
“What happened?”
“She disappeared.”
“You said she died.”
“I believed she did.”
Then he handed me a photograph.
My mother stood beside a man.
I recognized him.
Holloway's father.
My mother was smiling.
Behind them was the original Sterling estate.
On the back of the photograph was a date.
Twenty-three years earlier.
The same year my mother vanished.
“There was an attempted takeover,” my father said.
“She wasn't a victim.”
“She was one of the architects.”
I felt sick.
“Then why bring her back now?”
“Because someone reopened the old accounts.”
My father looked toward the security camera.
“She has been moving pieces for months.”
“Diego?”
“A pawn.”
“Holloway?”
“A pawn.”
“Brenna?”
“Another pawn.”
I looked at him.
“Then who is the queen?”
My father didn't answer.
The door opened.
Detective Harris walked in.
She looked exhausted.
“We found Holloway.”
“Where?”
“Gone.”
My father frowned.
“How?”
“He left the country three hours ago.”
“With whose help?”
“We're tracking it.”
She handed me a file.
Inside was DNA evidence.
My mother's DNA had been found on an old piece of jewelry recovered from the retreat.
My hands shook.
“That proves she's alive?”
“No.”
“But…”
“We also found a recent match.”
My heart pounded.
“Where?”
Detective Harris looked at my father.
“At a private clinic.”
My father closed his eyes.
“What clinic?”
“The same clinic where Vanessa was treated before the crash.”
Silence.
“Vanessa knew her.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did Vanessa die?”
“We think she tried to leave the operation.”
I stared at the floor.
“So everyone who tries to escape dies.”
Detective Harris didn't respond.
That was answer enough.
That night, someone broke into the facility.
Not a physical intruder.
A digital one.
Every monitor in the building activated simultaneously.
A woman's face appeared.
Older.
Elegant.
Dark hair.
Cold eyes.
I knew her.
I had seen that face in childhood photographs.
My mother.
She looked directly at the camera.
Then she smiled.
“Hello, Elena.”
My blood turned to ice.
My father stood beside me.
The woman on the screen continued.
“You've grown into a beautiful woman.”
I couldn't speak.
“Your father probably told you that I died.”
She laughed.
“He always preferred simple stories.”
My father's hands tightened.
“Turn it off.”
“No,” I said.
I stepped closer.
“Who are you?”
“You know who I am.”
“Why are you doing this?”
She smiled.
“Because you have something that belongs to me.”
“My inheritance?”
“No.”
She paused.
“Your daughter.”
My hand covered my stomach.
She leaned toward the camera.
“You're carrying the key to everything.”
“What key?”
“The final Sterling trust.”
My father stepped forward.
“You'll never get it.”
She looked at him.
“You still think you're protecting your daughter.”
“I am.”
“No.”
Her voice became softer.
“You're protecting the company.”
She looked back at me.
“You want to know why Diego attacked you?”
My heart stopped.
“Because I told him to.”
My father cursed.
She smiled.
“He never met me.”
“He didn't need to.”
“Then how?”
“Through Brenna.”
The pieces clicked.
“Brenna knows you.”
“Very well.”
“She works for you.”
“She works for herself.”
“Then why use her?”
“Because greed makes people predictable.”
I stared at the screen.
“What do you want?”
“Your daughter.”
“No.”
“Then I need your father.”
I looked at him.
“What are you going to do?”
My mother's expression became almost tender.
“Give him back what he took from me.”
“What?”
“The company.”
My father laughed bitterly.
“You gave that up twenty-three years ago.”
“No.”
She smiled.
“You stole it.”
The screen went black.
A second later, an incoming message appeared.
DELIVERY CONFIRMED.
My father read it.
His face changed.
“What's wrong?”
He looked at me.
“They've taken the archive.”
“What archive?”
“The one place holding the original Sterling inheritance records.”
“And?”
“If they have those records…”
He stopped.
“What?”
“They can prove Black Vault belongs to your mother.”
My stomach sank.
“Then she can legally take Sterling.”
My father nodded.
“No.”
He looked toward the window.
“They can take something worse.”
May you like
“What?”
“Your daughter's identity.”
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