Chapter 11 - Brittany's Real Job
Brittany Cole was not Derek’s accidental mistress.
She was his handler.
That was the word Victor used in an internal email.
D. Holloway requires continued supervision. Cole will maintain operational compliance.
I felt nauseated.
Every fight Derek and I had.
Every financial decision.
Every fertility appointment.
Brittany had been somewhere behind it.
Sometimes directly.
Sometimes invisibly.
She worked for a legal consultancy hired by Victor.
Years earlier, she had introduced Derek to Mercer.
Later, when Derek began feeling guilty, she began an affair with him.
Not because she loved him.
Because guilt made him dangerous.
The affair kept him loyal.
Or compromised.
Maybe both.
When Derek saw the Room 417 video, he broke.
He came to Luka’s estate alone.
Security almost refused him entry.
I allowed it.
He stood across from me in the library.
“What did you find?”
I placed a photograph of Brittany on the table.
“She worked for your father.”
His face emptied.
“What?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
I watched him carefully.
For once, I believed him.
I played the recording.
Victor’s voice.
Brittany’s voice.
Instructions.
Payments.
Surveillance.
Derek sat down.
He looked physically ill.
“She told me she hated him.”
“She was paid by him.”
“I told her everything.”
“I know.”
“I told her I wanted out.”
That interested me.
“When?”
“After your first miscarriage.”
I froze.
Three years earlier.
Before Grace.
“I watched you break.”
His voice cracked.
“That was when I realized this wasn’t a game.”
“So what did you do?”
“I confronted my father.”
“And?”
“He told me if I left, he’d tell you how we met.”
“You chose yourself.”
“Yes.”
The honesty was brutal.
He covered his face.
“I was a coward.”
Luka’s exact word in the hospital.
Derek looked toward Grace sleeping nearby.
“When Mercer said we could try again, Dad told me he had solved my infertility problem.”
“With M-17.”
“I knew it was a donor file.”
“But I didn’t know whose.”
I stared at him.
“Did you know I hadn’t consented?”
His silence returned.
There are silences that contain entire confessions.
That was one.
I stood.
“Get out.”
“Emma.”
“Get out.”
“I can help.”
“You already helped enough.”
“I know where my father keeps his private records.”
I stopped.
Luka stepped forward.
“Where?”
Derek looked at him.
“A bank vault.”
“Under what name?”
“My mother’s.”
I blinked.
Derek’s mother, Claire Holloway, had died six years earlier.
Or so I had been told.
Derek’s mouth tightened.
“There’s one more thing.”
“What?”
“My mother didn’t die from cancer.”
He looked at Elena.
“She found Victor’s old M-17 files.”
My mother stared at him.
“And?”
Derek swallowed.
“She tried to give them to Samuel.”
My father went pale.
“I never received them.”
“No.”
Derek’s eyes filled with tears.
“Because three days later, she drove off the same bridge where Elena was supposed to have died.”
The room became silent.
Two women.
Same bridge.
Same man behind both secrets.
May you like
Victor Holloway had not simply manipulated us.
He had spent decades eliminating anyone who threatened M-17.
