Chapter 7 - THE WAREHOUSE
The warehouse stood at the edge of the city.
Abandoned.
Dark.
Exactly the kind of place criminals in movies used.
But real life was rarely that simple.
We entered through the side door.
The lights came on.
Michael was standing in the center of the room.
Beside him was Eleanor.
My aunt.
I stopped.
She smiled.
“Damon.”
“You did all this?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
She looked toward the darkness behind me.
“He did.”
A man stepped forward.
My father.
Alive.
I couldn't breathe.
He looked older.
Thinner.
But it was him.
“Dad?”
He nodded.
I walked toward him.
He raised a hand.
“Don't.”
“Why?”
“Because everything you've been told tonight is part of the plan.”
My father looked at Eleanor.
Then at Michael.
Then at Rebecca.
“I needed to know who was loyal.”
I felt betrayed all over again.
“You used me.”
“I protected you.”
“You let me believe you were dead.”
“I had to.”
“You let me believe Cassandra abandoned me.”
“I had to.”
“You let me miss my children's entire lives.”
His face broke.
“I know.”
For the first time, he looked like a father rather than a strategist.
“I made mistakes.”
“No,” I said.
“You made choices.”
He nodded.
“You're right.”
Then Eleanor laughed.
Everyone turned.
“You're all missing the point.”
She stepped forward.
“The network doesn't belong to me.”
My father stared at her.
“Don't.”
She smiled.
“It belongs to Michael.”
Michael's expression changed.
“What?”
Eleanor continued.
“Your father thought he could control the money.”
“He couldn't.”
“Michael has been moving the assets for years.”
My father looked stunned.
Michael reached for his weapon.
Federal agents stormed the warehouse.
Everything exploded into chaos.
Gunshots.
Shouting.
People running.
I grabbed Cassandra.
Rebecca pulled the children behind a concrete barrier.
Michael fled.
Eleanor was arrested.
My father surrendered.
The warehouse was secured.
But Michael was gone.
Hours later, investigators found his abandoned vehicle.
Inside was a laptop.
The laptop contained thousands of files.
Among them was a video.
I pressed play.
Michael appeared on screen.
“If you're watching this, I've already disappeared.”
He looked directly into the camera.
“Damon, your father doesn't know the whole truth.”
My father stared at the screen.
Michael continued.
“The network didn't begin with Eleanor.”
A pause.
“It began with your mother.”
I felt the room go silent.
My mother had died when I was twelve.
A car accident.
Another family tragedy.
Another story I had never questioned.
Michael smiled.
“She built the system.”
The video ended.
Nobody spoke.
Then my father whispered:
“No.”
I turned toward him.
“Dad?”
He looked devastated.
“I thought I knew her.”
Rebecca picked up the laptop.
“There are more files.”
She opened one.
The title was:
PROJECT LITTLE STAR — ORIGINAL ARCHITECT.
The author field contained my mother's full name.
I stared at the screen.
May you like
My entire life had been built on stories my family had told me.
And now every one of them was collapsing.
