CHAPTER 18 — THE GRANDFATHER WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD
The lights came back on.
Anthony was bleeding.
Dominic held him against his chest.
“Stay with me.”
Anthony coughed.
“I've waited…”
His eyes moved toward me.
“…too long.”
I looked toward the doorway.
No one.
The voice had disappeared.
But I knew what I had heard.
Alexander Moretti.
Dominic's grandfather.
A man who had supposedly died before Dominic was born.
A man who supposedly built the original network.
A man who had controlled Isabella.
A man who had ordered me erased.
And now—
he was alive.
Dominic looked at me.
“Get down.”
Another shot.
The bullet struck the wall.
Ethan fired toward the corridor.
“Move!”
Michael pulled Isabella behind a concrete pillar.
I dropped beside Dominic.
Anthony was still conscious.
Barely.
“Where is he?” Dominic demanded.
Anthony whispered:
“Below.”
“Below what?”
“Northstar.”
Michael's expression changed.
“There is another level.”
Anthony nodded.
“Under Room 36.”
I looked at the floor.
“The vault.”
“No.”
Anthony coughed.
“The original control room.”
Dominic stared.
“What is down there?”
Anthony looked at me.
“The beginning of everything.”
We found the hidden staircase beneath the surveillance room.
Thirty-six steps.
Exactly thirty-six.
The number from the memory card.
17-04-36.
The first two numbers had been locations.
The third wasn't a room.
It was the number of steps.
Michael had hidden the clue inside the jacket because he knew only I would remember.
I counted them.
One.
Two.
Three.
By twenty—
my heart was pounding.
By thirty—
I heard voices below.
At thirty-six—
we reached a steel door.
There was no lock.
Only a fingerprint scanner.
Dominic placed his hand on it.
Nothing.
I tried mine.
Nothing.
Anthony, supported by Michael, stepped forward.
He placed his hand against the scanner.
The door opened.
Dominic stared at him.
“You knew.”
Anthony looked at his son.
“I built this place with my father.”
“You built the network?”
“No.”
“I helped destroy it.”
Anthony's voice was weak.
“But I failed.”
We entered.
The room was enormous.
Servers.
Old documents.
Maps.
Photographs.
And at the center—
a single chair.
Behind it stood a man.
Gray hair.
Black suit.
A silver cane.
He turned slowly.
I knew him immediately.
Alexander Moretti.
He looked exactly like the man in the old photographs.
Older.
But alive.
Dominic raised his weapon.
Alexander smiled.
“Put it down.”
“No.”
“You won't shoot me.”
“Try me.”
Alexander laughed.
“You have your father's temper.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“Why did you fake your death?”
“To see what happened when everyone believed I was gone.”
“And?”
“My daughter became weak.”
Isabella stared at him.
“I became free.”
Alexander looked at her.
“You became sentimental.”
“You threatened my children.”
“I tested you.”
“You tried to kill Avery.”
“I tested her.”
I stepped forward.
“Stop calling murder a test.”
Alexander looked at me.
His eyes were cold.
“You have Michael's courage.”
“And his blood.”
Alexander smiled.
“No.”
The word made my heart stop.
“Your father was never Michael.”
I looked at Michael.
He didn't deny it.
Alexander continued.
“Michael loved you.”
“He raised me.”
“Yes.”
“But he was never your biological father.”
I swallowed.
“Then who was?”
Alexander walked toward me.
“You were created from a secret Isabella thought no one knew.”
I frowned.
“Created?”
“Your mother was pregnant with twins.”
“Yes.”
“Dominic was Anthony's.”
He looked at me.
“But you…”
He paused.
“…were mine.”
Silence.
I couldn't breathe.
“No.”
Isabella stepped forward.
“Don't listen to him.”
Alexander smiled.
“She never told you.”
“Because it's not true.”
“Ask her.”
I turned to Isabella.
“Mom?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
She couldn't answer.
That was enough.
My world cracked open.
Dominic looked at Isabella.
“Is he telling the truth?”
She whispered:
“Yes.”
Dominic looked at me.
I couldn't meet his eyes.
Alexander continued.
“Your genetic marker was the key to my entire financial system.”
“What?”
“Your blood contained the hereditary signature required to access the original trust.”
“You made me a key.”
“I made you my heir.”
I shook my head.
“I don't want anything from you.”
“You already have it.”
He pointed toward the massive screen.
A biometric scan appeared.
My name.
My photograph.
My fingerprints.
My DNA profile.
Then:
PRIMARY BENEFICIARY: AVERY MORETTI
My stomach turned.
“My name isn't Moretti.”
“It was.”
“When?”
“When you were born.”
He pressed a button.
An old birth certificate appeared.
AVERY ISABELLA MORETTI.
Mother: Isabella Moretti.
Father: Alexander Moretti.
I stared.
Dominic whispered:
“My grandfather is your father.”
My brother.
My grandfather.
My mother.
My family.
All of it suddenly became monstrous.
Alexander looked at me.
“You were hidden because Isabella feared what I would do with you.”
Michael stepped forward.
“She protected her.”
Alexander smiled.
“And you stole her.”
“I saved her.”
“You lied to her for twenty-seven years.”
“I gave her a childhood.”
Alexander's eyes narrowed.
“You gave her a false identity.”
Michael's voice became firm.
“I gave her a life.”
For the first time, Alexander looked angry.
He raised his weapon.
I moved.
So did Dominic.
A shot exploded.
Michael fell.
“Dad!”
I ran toward him.
Blood spread across his shirt.
Dominic tackled Alexander.
The two men crashed into the table.
Isabella fired.
Alexander disappeared behind a steel partition.
Then alarms began screaming.
Red lights flashed.
A voice announced:
SYSTEM PURGE INITIATED.
Anthony looked at the servers.
“No.”
“What?”
“He's destroying everything.”
Michael tried to stand.
“Not everything.”
He pointed toward one small terminal.
“That's the backup.”
I ran.
The terminal displayed one question:
AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED.
Below it:
BIOLOGICAL HEIR
I placed my hand on the scanner.
The system accepted it.
WELCOME, AVERY MORETTI.
Files began downloading.
Names.
Accounts.
Videos.
Payments.
Murder records.
Everything.
Then one file appeared.
PROJECT FAMILY — FINAL SUBJECT.
I opened it.
A photograph appeared.
A woman.
A baby.
And a hospital record.
My mother's name.
But the baby wasn't me.
It was another child.
Another girl.
Another secret.
The document said:
SUBJECT C — ALIVE.
I stared.
“What's this?”
Isabella came behind me.
Her face went white.
“No.”
“What?”
She looked at the screen.
Then whispered:
“My third child.”
Everyone froze.
Dominic stared at her.
“Third?”
Isabella closed her eyes.
“I thought she died.”
Michael looked at the file.
“She didn't.”
Anthony stepped forward.
“Who has her?”
The system finished decrypting.
A location appeared.
Chicago.
A private hospital.
A room number.
And beneath it—
a name.
LINDA CARTER.
My heart stopped.
“Linda?”
The screen changed.
A live camera feed appeared.
My mother was sitting beside a hospital bed.
And lying in that bed—
was a young woman who looked almost exactly like me.
Linda looked directly into the camera.
Her lips moved.
I couldn't hear her.
Then the audio activated.
“I'm sorry, Avery.”
She began to cry.
“She is your sister.”
The screen went black.
May you like
And somewhere behind us—
Alexander laughed.
