Chapter 7: The Father in the Dark
The applause echoed through the underground chamber.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Mocking.
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
I couldn't see anything.
The lights had died completely.
“Sarah?”
No answer.
“Lily?”
“I'm here!”
I heard her voice beside me.
I grabbed her hand.
“Don't let go.”
“I won't.”
Then a man's voice came from somewhere in the darkness.
“You've finally brought them all together.”
My blood ran cold.
The voice wasn't my father's.
It was deeper.
Older.
And strangely familiar.
I raised the gun.
“Who are you?”
A soft laugh answered.
“Your whole life, you've been asking the wrong question.”
A light flickered on.
Only one.
It illuminated a chair at the center of the room.
A man sat in it.
His face remained hidden beneath the shadow.
But his hands were visible.
One hand rested on a silver cane.
The other held a photograph.
He slowly raised it.
My photograph.
The one Sarah had kept.
“You look exactly like your mother,” he said.
I stared at him.
“Who are you?”
He leaned forward.
The light finally reached his face.
I stopped breathing.
He was old.
Maybe seventy.
Gray hair.
Sharp cheekbones.
A scar ran from his left eyebrow to his jaw.
But there was something about him.
Something in his eyes.
Something I had seen every morning in the mirror.
I whispered:
“Dad?”
The man smiled.
“No.”
He stood.
“I am your father.”
Behind the glass, my supposed father suddenly slammed his fist against the door.
“NO!”
The old man looked toward him.
“You've kept this lie alive for twenty years.”
My father shouted:
“You were supposed to be dead!”
The old man laughed.
“I was.”
He looked at me.
“Dead to the world.”
I stared at him.
“What's your name?”
He took a step forward.
“Alexander Morgan.”
The name hit me.
Morgan.
My family name.
But there was something else.
My grandfather had been named Alexander.
I remembered the old portrait in my childhood home.
The same eyes.
The same scar.
The same silver cane.
I looked at Sarah.
She was crying.
“You knew?”
She nodded.
“He found me three years ago.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because your father was watching you.”
I looked toward the glass.
The man I'd called Dad for my entire life was staring at Sarah with pure hatred.
Alexander turned toward him.
“You failed.”
The other man laughed.
“You think you've won?”
“No.”
Alexander looked at me.
“My son has.”
I shook my head.
“Stop calling me that.”
Alexander frowned.
“You don't believe me.”
“I don't know what to believe anymore.”
“That is exactly what they wanted.”
He approached slowly.
“Your memories were altered.”
I touched my head.
“How?”
“Your father arranged it.”
“Why?”
“Because you saw something you weren't supposed to see.”
“What?”
Alexander looked at Sarah.
“She can tell you.”
Sarah stepped forward.
“I was there.”
She wiped her tears.
“The night your mother died.”
I stared at her.
“What happened?”
Sarah swallowed.
“Your mother discovered that Alexander was still alive.”
I looked at him.
“She found him?”
“Yes.”
“And my father?”
“He found out.”
Sarah's voice became quieter.
“He sent people to kill both of them.”
“But Alexander survived.”
“Barely.”
I looked at the scar on his face.
“And my mother?”
Sarah lowered her head.
“She didn't.”
I closed my eyes.
For years, I'd believed my mother died peacefully.
Now I realized that every memory of her final days had been manufactured.
I opened my eyes.
“Why did they erase my memory?”
Sarah looked at me.
“Because you saw the murder.”
My stomach twisted.
“I was there?”
“You were twelve.”
I remembered the photograph.
The room.
My mother.
Grayson.
And the man standing behind us.
I suddenly remembered something else.
A red carpet.
A broken glass.
My mother's hand over my mouth.
And a voice.
Don't look at him, Daniel.
I stumbled backward.
“I remember.”
Sarah rushed toward me.
“What do you remember?”
“My mother.”
I looked at Alexander.
“She told me to hide.”
He nodded.
“Where?”
I closed my eyes.
“Under the desk.”
My breathing quickened.
“I saw someone enter.”
“Who?”
I opened my eyes.
I looked toward the man behind the glass.
“Not him.”
Everyone became silent.
“Then who?”
I whispered:
“Grayson.”
Sarah's face went pale.
Alexander's expression hardened.
“He was the one who pulled the trigger.”
My supposed father suddenly shouted:
“YOU'RE LYING!”
Grayson stepped backward.
I turned toward him.
He was still holding his gun.
But now his hand was shaking.
“You killed my mother.”
Grayson said nothing.
“You killed her.”
He looked at me.
Then smiled.
“No.”
He raised his gun.
“I killed your grandfather.”
BANG!
The bullet struck Alexander.
Sarah screamed.
Alexander collapsed.
“NO!”
I fired back.
Grayson ducked behind the steel door.
The masked men opened fire.
I pulled Sarah and Lily behind the equipment.
Bullets tore through the monitors.
Sparks filled the room.
Robert suddenly appeared from the corridor.
He was bleeding badly.
But he was standing.
He raised a weapon.
“MOVE!”
We ran.
Sarah grabbed Lily's hand.
I followed.
Robert slammed the emergency door behind us.
We entered a narrow tunnel.
“Where are we going?”
“Out.”
“Where?”
“Your father's old estate.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because that's where the truth is.”
Sarah stopped.
“No.”
Robert turned.
“What?”
Sarah shook her head.
“We can't go there.”
“Why?”
Sarah looked at me.
“Because that's where they buried the real evidence.”
I frowned.
“What evidence?”
She took my hand.
“The proof that Lily is the heir.”
I looked at Lily.
“What proof?”
Sarah's eyes filled with tears.
“Her birth certificate.”
I blinked.
“That's it?”
“No.”
She lowered her voice.
“It's not a document.”
“What is it?”
Sarah looked behind us.
Then whispered:
“It's a person.”
I froze.
“What?”
Sarah's voice trembled.
“The doctor who delivered Lily.”
Robert's face changed.
“He's alive?”
Sarah nodded.
“And he knows who Lily's real father is.”
I looked at my daughter.
Then at Sarah.
“Who?”
Sarah opened her mouth.
But before she could answer, the tunnel lights flickered.
A voice came from the darkness behind us.
“You really shouldn't have come back, Sarah.”
She froze.
I turned.
A figure stood at the far end of the tunnel.
Helen.
She wasn't alone.
Beside her stood Grayson.
And between them was my father.
He was holding something in his hand.
A small red button.
He smiled.
“Goodbye, Daniel.”
He pressed it.
The tunnel began to shake.
Sarah grabbed me.
“RUN!”
Behind us, the walls exploded.
And as we raced into the darkness, I heard my father's final words:
“Your daughter isn't the heir.”
A massive blast tore through the tunnel.
May you like
His voice disappeared beneath the roar.
“She is the weapon.”
