Chapter 10 - The cemetery was empty when we arrived.Rain had begun falling.
The graves were slick and dark.
Daniel led us through the older section.
“Your father comes here alone.”
“How do you know?”
“I followed him.”
We stopped beside a stone angel.
Behind it was a hidden metal door.
Daniel entered a code.
The door opened.
A staircase disappeared underground.
I stared.
“My father has a bunker under a cemetery?”
“Your father has many things.”
We descended.
At the bottom was a room filled with old files.
Photographs.
Weapons.
Money.
And one wall covered entirely with pictures of my mother.
I walked toward it.
Then stopped.
There were photographs from every year.
My mother at twenty-two.
Twenty-five.
Thirty.
After I was born.
After she supposedly died.
I touched one.
She was standing outside a small motel.
Holding a baby.
Me.
I looked at the date.
Three years after the accident.
“She raised me.”
Daniel nodded.
“At least for a while.”
Another photograph showed my mother and Anthony.
Then another.
Anthony holding Ethan.
Then a final photograph.
My mother holding me.
Standing beside Michael.
They all looked like a family.
I turned.
“What happened?”
Daniel opened an old file.
“Your mother discovered Anthony was planning something.”
“What?”
“To control Chicago completely.”
“And she tried to stop him.”
“Yes.”
“She took us and ran.”
“Yes.”
“Then Michael found us.”
“Yes.”
“And stole me.”
Daniel hesitated.
“He took you after your mother was shot.”
I froze.
“Shot?”
“She survived.”
“Who shot her?”
“Michael.”
I couldn't breathe.
“No.”
“Not because he wanted her dead.”
“Then why?”
“To make Anthony believe she was dead.”
I stared.
“This is insane.”
“It gets worse.”
He showed me another document.
A hospital record.
My mother had been treated under a false identity.
The attending physician had signed a confidentiality agreement.
At the bottom was a name.
Dr. Samuel Vale.
I recognized it.
“My pediatrician.”
Daniel nodded.
“He wasn't only your pediatrician.”
“What was he?”
“He was your mother's closest ally.”
A noise came from the hallway.
We both turned.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Daniel drew his weapon.
The footsteps stopped.
Then someone stepped into the doorway.
My father.
His clothes were soaked.
His face was bruised.
I stared.
“Dad.”
He looked at Daniel.
“You brought her here.”
“I had to.”
Dad looked at me.
“I wanted you away from this.”
“Too late.”
He sighed.
“I know.”
I stepped toward him.
“Did you shoot Mom?”
“No.”
“Did you steal me?”
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“Why?”
“To keep Anthony from finding you.”
“But you knew where she was.”
“Yes.”
“You left her alive.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't you bring her back?”
Dad looked away.
“Because she didn't want you to know.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It will.”
He walked to the wall of photographs.
He stopped beside one.
Me.
Three years old.
Sitting on his lap.
He smiled in the photograph.
“You were the only good thing that came from that war.”
I looked at him.
“Did you love me?”
He turned.
“You're my daughter whether blood says so or not.”
“But you aren't my father.”
He shook his head.
“No.”
The words hurt again.
Dad reached into his pocket.
He pulled out a small key.
“This was your mother's.”
I took it.
“What does it open?”
He pointed toward the far wall.
A tiny steel door.
I inserted the key.
It opened.
Inside was a box.
A single file.
I pulled it out.
The label read:
LENA HART CARTER.
My heart hammered.
Inside was a DNA report.
My father's name.
My mother's name.
And Anthony Hart.
But the result was not what I expected.
Anthony Hart was my biological father.
Victor Hale was not.
Michael Carter was not.
But there was a final note.
PATERNAL DNA MATCH CONFIRMED. MATERNAL LINE: UNKNOWN.
I looked up.
“Who is my biological mother?”
Dad stared at the file.
“Lillian.”
“Then why does it say unknown?”
He didn't answer.
Daniel slowly took the report from me.
His face changed.
“Sir.”
Dad looked at him.
Daniel pointed to the test date.
“It was performed last year.”
Dad's eyes widened.
“That's impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because Lillian was dead by then.”
Silence.
I looked at both men.
Then a sound came from behind the wall.
Three knocks.
Pause.
Three knocks.
Pause.
Three knocks.
Daniel stepped toward it.
Dad grabbed him.
“No.”
“What?”
Dad whispered:
“That is her signal.”
The wall began to move.
A hidden passage opened.
And my mother stepped out.
Alive.
Her eyes locked onto mine.
She smiled through tears.
Then she said:
“Lena, we don't have much time.”
May you like
She looked behind her.
“Anthony has found us.”
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