Chapter 5 - I spent the next morning trying to understand how a lifetime of grief could be a lie.My father alive.

Victoria alive.

And now my mother.

Alive.

The word felt absurd.

My mother had supposedly died in a boating accident.

I remembered the funeral.

The flowers.

The photographs.

The silence.

I remembered Daniel holding my hand years later when I cried about her.

Now I couldn't remember which parts were real.

Marcus arrived at the safe house before sunrise.

He listened without interrupting.

When I finished, he asked one question.

“Did your father give you the evidence?”

I placed the files on the table.

“Yes.”

Marcus looked through them.

Then stopped.

His face tightened.

“What?”

He turned the page around.

A photograph of my mother's supposed accident scene.

“This wasn't an accident.”

“You knew?”

“No.”

He zoomed in on a detail.

The boat's registration number.

“This vessel was sold six months before your mother supposedly died.”

I stared.

“What?”

Marcus continued flipping pages.

“The insurer paid a claim on the wrong hull.”

My heart pounded.

“So the entire report was fabricated.”

“Looks that way.”

“By whom?”

Marcus didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

Daniel.

But something didn't fit.

Daniel had been too young to control everything alone.

I looked at the files.

“There's someone higher.”

Marcus nodded.

“I think so.”

He opened the ledger Victoria had given me.

“This is why Daniel wanted your trust.”

He tapped a section.

“These transfers are linked to a private fund.”

“Whose?”

“Unknown.”

“Then find out.”

“I've been trying.”

He showed me a series of shell companies.

Every trail ended in the same code.

V-17

I looked at it.

Victoria.

“No.”

Marcus shook his head.

“Not necessarily.”

Then he showed me another document.

A corporate registration.

V-17 was not a person.

It was a project.

A private holding network.

Established twelve years earlier.

By a company owned by...

my father.

I stared.

“What was my father doing?”

Marcus's voice was low.

“Investigating his own business partners.”

“Why?”

“Because he believed someone was stealing from him.”

I leaned back.

“Daniel?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

Marcus placed another photograph in front of me.

A man standing beside my father.

I recognized him immediately.

Roland Mercer.

The same man in the photographs.

Marcus spoke.

“Your father suspected Mercer was laundering money through a network of private trusts.”

“What happened?”

“Your father disappeared.”

I looked up.

“He was supposedly killed.”

Marcus nodded.

“Exactly.”

Silence filled the room.

Then my phone rang.

Unknown number.

I answered.

No one spoke.

I waited.

A woman's breathing came through the line.

Then:

“Emily.”

My heart slammed against my ribs.

“Mom?”

Silence.

Then:

“You shouldn't trust your father.”

I stood.

“Where are you?”

“No.”

“Mom, where are you?”

“You're digging into things you don't understand.”

I gripped the phone.

“Why did you fake your death?”

“Because your father made me.”

“What?”

“He thought you were in danger.”

“You abandoned me.”

“I watched you every year.”

My eyes filled.

“Where?”

“I can't tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because Daniel found me once.”

I froze.

“What did he do?”

Another silence.

Then:

“He showed me a photograph.”

“What photograph?”

“Your father standing beside someone.”

“Who?”

Her breathing changed.

She sounded frightened.

“Me.”

The call ended.

I stared at the screen.

Marcus stood.

“What happened?”

“My mother says Daniel found her.”

Marcus went still.

Then his phone rang.

He answered.

Listened.

Then his expression changed.

“It's the police.”

“What happened?”

He ended the call.

“They found Roland Mercer.”

“Where?”

“Dead.”

I felt the room tighten around me.

“How?”

“Shot.”

“When?”

“Forty minutes ago.”

I looked at the files.

“Was he alone?”

“No.”

“Who was with him?”

Marcus hesitated.

“Three people.”

“Who?”

He looked at me.

“Daniel Harper.”

My blood went cold.

“Daniel is in custody.”

“Not anymore.”

I stared.

“What?”

Marcus continued.

“Someone entered the courthouse before his transfer.”

“Who?”

“The security cameras were disabled.”

I stood.

“He escaped?”

Marcus nodded.

Then handed me another piece of paper.

A note.

It had been left beside Roland's body.

Three words.

ASK YOUR FATHER.

I looked toward the window.

My father had disappeared before dawn.

No call.

No message.

Nothing.

Then the television switched to breaking news.

A reporter stood outside the courthouse.

“Authorities have confirmed that Daniel Harper, who was being held in connection with a major financial fraud investigation, escaped custody earlier this morning.”

The screen showed Daniel's photograph.

Then a second image appeared.

Security footage from the courthouse.

Daniel walking beside an officer.

And behind him...

my mother.

I stood frozen.

She was wearing a dark hood.

She looked directly into the camera.

And in her hand was a red leather folder.

The same folder my father had left for me.

Marcus whispered:

“What the hell is she doing with that?”

I didn't answer.

Because the next headline appeared.

POLICE SUSPECT INSIDER ASSISTANCE IN HARPER ESCAPE.

Then a photograph appeared.

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The alleged accomplice.

My mother's face.