Chapter 12 - When the emergency lights returned, my mother was gone.So was the double.
Ethan was bleeding from the shoulder.
My father was standing over him.
Daniel was searching the room.
“What happened?”
Ethan shook his head.
“She took her.”
“Who?”
“My mother.”
I stared.
“Lillian.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Isabel.”
The name felt foreign.
Impossible.
Yet the photograph remained in my mind.
A woman I'd never seen.
Holding me.
I turned to my mother’s old bedroom.
The closet door was open.
Inside hung dresses.
Photographs.
Letters.
I opened one.
It was addressed to me.
Lena,
if you're reading this, then I failed to keep you out of the war.
I kept reading.
Lillian Carter was never your mother.
I stopped.
My hands shook.
The letter continued.
She raised you because I asked her to.
Anthony never knew the truth.
Michael discovered it too late.
You are my daughter.
I stared at the signature.
Isabel Hart.
My real mother.
Then another line.
And your real father is the man who started this entire war.
I turned toward Daniel.
“Anthony?”
He shook his head.
“Victor?”
“No.”
“Michael?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Daniel didn't answer.
He looked at Ethan.
Ethan whispered:
“Thomas Hart.”
“Who is that?”
“My grandfather.”
I stared.
“What?”
“The real head of the Hart family.”
“The Architect?”
“No.”
“The person behind him.”
A chill moved through the room.
Anthony wasn't the top.
Victor wasn't the top.
Michael wasn't.
There was someone else.
Someone older.
Someone nobody had ever seen.
Thomas Hart.
Daniel pulled up an old financial record.
A web of companies spread across the screen.
At the center was a single dormant trust.
HART FAMILY RESERVE.
The beneficiary:
LENA HART.
The executor:
THOMAS HART.
Status:
ACTIVE.
I stared.
“Where is he?”
Nobody answered.
Then Daniel said:
“Dead.”
I looked at him.
“Everyone is dead.”
He shook his head.
“Officially.”
A knock sounded.
Three times.
Pause.
Three times.
Pause.
Three times.
Nobody moved.
The knock came again.
Ethan whispered:
“That's not Mom.”
Daniel approached the door.
He opened it.
A courier stood outside.
Old.
Gray beard.
Black gloves.
He handed Daniel a sealed envelope.
“For Lena Hart.”
I took it.
Inside was a key.
And a hotel room number.
Room 1704.
Carter Hotel.
My father's hotel.
I looked at him.
He shook his head.
“Don't go.”
“Why?”
“Because that's where Thomas disappeared.”
“But if he's alive…”
“He isn't.”
“Then why leave a key?”
My father's phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“What?”
He listened.
Then slowly sat down.
“Dad?”
He looked at me.
“There's been a body found.”
“Whose?”
“Victor Hale.”
I stared.
“Dead?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Three gunshots.”
“Who did it?”
Dad shook his head.
“They found your photograph beside his body.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“They think you killed him.”
The police sirens began outside.
Dozens.
Red lights filled the windows.
Daniel looked at me.
“We need to leave.”
My father stood.
“No.”
Everyone stared at him.
“They want her to run.”
He walked toward the window.
“We stay.”
“That'll get her arrested,” Daniel said.
Dad turned.
“Not if the person behind this wants her alive.”
The door burst open.
Federal agents rushed in.
Weapons raised.
“Lena Hart Carter, you're under arrest for the murder of Victor Hale.”
I froze.
My father's eyes met mine.
He whispered:
“Don't say a word.”
Then one agent stepped forward.
And I recognized him.
The stranger from the ballroom.
The man who had covered my shoulders with his jacket.
Daniel looked at him.
“Agent Rhodes.”
The agent smiled.
“That's right.”
He turned toward me.
“You've been looking for the truth.”
He lifted the key from my hand.
“Room 1704.”
May you like
Then he whispered:
“Your mother is waiting for you there.”
