Chapter 9 - THE PRICE OF THE TRUTH
“Mom!”
Grace ran.
Evelyn was bleeding from the shoulder.
Alive.
Nathan tackled Richard before he could fire again.
They crashed through a glass table.
One of Richard's men grabbed Grace.
She drove her elbow backward.
He lost his grip.
Grace grabbed the fallen gun.
“Don't move!”
Her hands shook violently.
The man froze.
Nathan and Richard fought near the fireplace.
Richard was older.
Nathan was stronger.
But Richard fought like a man who knew prison meant dying behind bars.
He grabbed a fireplace poker.
Nathan barely moved before it struck his ribs.
He collapsed.
Richard raised it again.
Grace aimed the gun.
“Stop!”
Richard looked at her.
“Shoot me.”
Grace's finger tightened.
“You want revenge?”
He smiled.
“Take it.”
Grace saw her father.
Seventeen years old again.
A police officer at the door.
Her mother collapsing.
A closed coffin.
Years of unanswered questions.
She could kill him.
She wanted to.
Then she heard Daniel's voice in her memory.
Not real.
Just the father she remembered.
Grace lowered the gun slightly.
“No.”
Richard frowned.
“You don't get to turn me into you.”
Sirens screamed outside.
Federal agents stormed the house.
Richard was arrested.
Evelyn survived.
Nathan suffered two cracked ribs.
The archive went public.
Within seventy-two hours, the Sterling empire collapsed.
Government contracts were suspended.
Accounts frozen.
Officials arrested.
Richard Sterling was charged with Daniel Bennett's murder, conspiracy, attempted murder, and dozens of financial crimes.
Eleanor faced additional charges.
Victoria agreed to testify against both parents.
Grace thought the nightmare was finally ending.
Then Nathan disappeared.
She woke in the hospital beside Evelyn and found his bed empty.
His phone remained on the table.
Grace panicked.
Michael arrived.
“He left voluntarily.”
“Where?”
“He found something in the archive.”
Grace's stomach tightened.
“What?”
Michael handed her a hospital document.
Rebecca Cole.
Nathan's mother.
The Jane Doe from twenty-seven years earlier had been transferred to a private neurological care facility.
A woman matching Rebecca's age and injuries still lived there.
Grace stared at Michael.
“She's alive?”
“We don't know.”
“Nathan went there?”
“Yes.”
Grace closed her eyes.
Nathan had gone alone.
Not because he didn't trust Grace.
Because he was terrified of what he might find.
Three hours later, Nathan stood outside a quiet room.
An elderly woman sat beside a window.
Her hair was silver.
Burn scars covered one side of her neck.
Nathan couldn't move.
A nurse whispered, “She has memory loss.”
“Some days are better.”
“Some aren't.”
Nathan stepped inside.
The woman looked at him.
No recognition.
Nathan sat.
“My name is Nathan.”
She smiled politely.
“Hello, Nathan.”
His heart broke.
He showed her an old photograph.
Rebecca.
Charles.
Nathan at eight years old.
The woman's hand began trembling.
She touched the photograph.
Then Nathan's face.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Nate?”
Nathan stopped breathing.
Nobody had called him that since he was nine.
“Mom?”
Rebecca began crying.
Nathan dropped to his knees beside her.
She touched his hair.
“My boy.”
Twenty-seven years disappeared.
For one moment, he was nine again.
Then Rebecca whispered something.
“Charles knew.”
Nathan closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“No.”
She gripped his wrist.
“Charles knew where I was.”
Nathan froze.
“What?”
Rebecca's eyes filled with terror.
“He visited me.”
Nathan stared at her.
“When?”
“Every year.”
Nathan's father hadn't merely failed to save Rebecca.
May you like
He had known she was alive.
And he had chosen to keep Nathan from her.
