CHAPTER 17 — ROOM 36
Northstar Industrial looked exactly the way I remembered.
Dead.
Broken windows.
Rust-covered fences.
An abandoned factory that had supposedly been empty for eight years.
But tonight, there were lights inside.
Dim ones.
Moving ones.
Someone was waiting.
Dominic parked three blocks away.
No convoy.
No bodyguards.
No flashing lights.
Just the four of us.
Dominic.
Isabella.
Michael's old friend Ethan.
And me.
Isabella checked her weapon.
“You stay behind me.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Avery.”
“My father has been waiting eight years.”
I looked at her.
“If he's in there, I'm going to him.”
She stared at me.
Then slowly lowered her weapon.
“You really are Michael's daughter.”
Dominic almost smiled.
“She is.”
I looked at him.
“And apparently your sister.”
His smile disappeared.
Neither of us had gotten used to saying it.
Brother.
Sister.
Twin.
Those words still felt like they belonged to someone else's family.
We reached the fence.
Ethan cut through the lock.
Inside, the factory smelled like oil and wet concrete.
I remembered being here as a child.
My father used to bring me to the front gate when he worked late.
He would buy me hot chocolate from a vending machine.
I remembered sitting in his truck.
Waiting.
Watching the factory lights.
I had never known what he was actually doing inside.
Now I did.
He had been investigating people who killed for money.
People who erased lives.
People who had eventually erased him.
We reached the main building.
A steel door stood open.
Dominic raised his gun.
“Room 36 is on the third level.”
“How do you know?”
“My father had architectural plans.”
We entered.
The building was silent.
Too silent.
Then a voice echoed through the hallway.
“Welcome back.”
I stopped.
Samuel Reeves.
His voice was calm.
Almost friendly.
Dominic's gun rose.
“Show yourself.”
A light turned on.
Then another.
At the end of the corridor stood Dr. Samuel Reeves.
Older than in the photographs.
Gray hair.
Thin glasses.
A white shirt beneath a dark coat.
And behind him—
my father.
Michael Carter.
Tied to a chair.
Blood stained the side of his face.
“Dad!”
I moved.
Dominic caught my arm.
“Wait.”
Samuel smiled.
“Good.”
He looked at me.
“You came.”
I stared at him.
“You lied about my father.”
“Yes.”
“You helped fake his death.”
“Yes.”
“You've been keeping him here.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Samuel smiled.
“Because he knew too much.”
My father lifted his head.
“Avery…”
His voice was weak.
“Don't give him the ledger.”
Samuel laughed.
“You see?”
He looked at Dominic.
“Still protecting her.”
Dominic's expression hardened.
“Let him go.”
“No.”
“You're surrounded.”
Samuel looked amused.
“By whom?”
Dominic glanced behind us.
Nothing.
The doors had closed.
Metal locks engaged.
Samuel smiled.
“You came exactly as predicted.”
I looked at him.
“You wanted us here.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He pointed toward the floor.
“Because Room 36 was never a prison.”
I frowned.
“What was it?”
“The beginning.”
He pressed a button.
A section of the wall opened.
Behind it was an old surveillance room.
Hundreds of monitors.
Photographs.
Files.
Names.
And one giant screen.
On it were images of me.
As a child.
As a teenager.
At my first martial arts competition.
Outside the hospital with Linda.
Driving delivery routes.
Entering Dominic's mansion.
My entire life.
My blood ran cold.
“You've been watching me.”
“For twenty-seven years.”
I looked at my father.
“Why?”
Michael's eyes filled with tears.
“Because they were waiting for you to become useful.”
Samuel smiled.
“Your father always believed you were a victim.”
He stepped closer.
“He was wrong.”
I stared at him.
“What am I?”
Samuel pointed at the ledger.
“You are the key.”
I shook my head.
“You've said that before.”
“No.”
He smiled.
“Not the key to the vault.”
He pointed at my chest.
“The key to the entire network.”
Dominic stepped forward.
“What does that mean?”
Samuel looked at him.
“You were raised as the heir.”
Then he looked at me.
“She was raised as the insurance policy.”
He pressed another button.
A document appeared on the screen.
PROJECT HEIR — FINAL PROTOCOL.
Underneath were two names.
SUBJECT A: DOMINIC MORETTI
SUBJECT B: AVERY CARTER
Then another line appeared.
IF SUBJECT A REFUSES CONTROL, ACTIVATE SUBJECT B.
Dominic stared.
“What does that mean?”
Samuel smiled.
“It means if you refused the empire…”
He looked at me.
“…they planned to give it to her.”
I felt sick.
“I don't want it.”
Samuel laughed.
“You don't understand.”
The screen changed.
Bank accounts appeared.
Companies.
Properties.
Shipping routes.
Political donations.
Hundreds of millions of dollars.
Then one final figure.
$8.7 BILLION.
“This is the real Moretti network.”
Samuel looked at me.
“And you are the legal beneficiary.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Your biological mother signed the documents.”
“Isabella?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she knew she would eventually die.”
I turned toward Isabella.
She looked devastated.
“I was trying to dismantle it.”
“But you created the succession plan.”
“I had no choice.”
Samuel laughed.
“You always had a choice.”
Isabella looked at him.
“And you chose this.”
Samuel's expression darkened.
“You destroyed everything.”
“No.”
“You chose Anthony.”
“I chose my children.”
Samuel's smile vanished.
“And that's why you lost them.”
He raised his gun.
Toward Isabella.
I moved instinctively.
Dominic moved faster.
He slammed Samuel's wrist against the wall.
The gun fell.
Samuel struck Dominic across the face.
Dominic staggered.
I attacked.
Years of training returned in an instant.
Elbow.
Knee.
Wrist lock.
Samuel stumbled backward.
He was older.
But surprisingly fast.
He caught my arm and twisted.
Pain shot through my shoulder.
“Your father taught you well.”
I drove my forehead into his face.
He released me.
Dominic tackled him.
They crashed into a metal table.
Samuel rolled away.
He reached for another weapon.
I kicked it across the floor.
Dominic grabbed him.
“Where's Anthony?”
Samuel laughed.
“You still care about him?”
“He's my father.”
“No.”
Samuel looked at him.
“That's the problem.”
Dominic froze.
Samuel smiled.
“Anthony is not your father.”
Dominic's eyes hardened.
“You already told me that.”
“No.”
Samuel shook his head.
“You still don't know the truth.”
He looked at me.
“Michael isn't Avery's biological father either.”
Everything stopped.
I looked at my father.
“Dad?”
Michael closed his eyes.
“I'm sorry.”
Samuel smiled.
“She was never supposed to know.”
My heart shattered.
“Then who is my father?”
Michael looked at me.
“I am.”
Samuel laughed.
“Not by blood.”
Silence.
My father whispered:
“By choice.”
I couldn't breathe.
Then Samuel pressed a hidden button.
A steel door opened behind Michael.
A man stepped out.
Gray hair.
Dark coat.
Older.
Tired.
But alive.
Dominic froze.
“Dad?”
Anthony Moretti looked at his son.
Then at me.
And whispered:
“I'm sorry.”
I stared at him.
My entire life had been built on dead men.
Michael.
Anthony.
Isabella.
Linda.
Every one of them had carried a secret.
And now two fathers stood in front of me.
One who raised me.
One who gave me my blood.
Anthony looked at Dominic.
“I should have told you.”
Dominic's voice cracked.
“Told me what?”
Anthony looked at me.
“That you are not my biological daughter.”
I swallowed.
“Then who is?”
Anthony looked toward Isabella.
Isabella began to cry.
Michael stepped forward.
And said:
“Your biological father is the one man none of us thought survived.”
The lights suddenly went out.
A gunshot exploded.
Anthony collapsed.
“DAD!”
Dominic caught him.
And from the darkness—
a voice whispered:
“Hello, children.”
I knew that voice.
May you like
It was the voice from my father's funeral.
Alexander Moretti.
