Chapter 9 - Part Three Begins
I took one step back. “Then no deal.”
Marlowe drew his gun and pressed it against Rosa’s side.
Vanessa’s smile vanished. “Do not test me tonight.”
Rosa looked at me. There was no fear in her eyes now. Only command.
Do not give in.
Vanessa saw the exchange and rolled her eyes. “This loyalty is touching. Truly. But misplaced.”
Then she reached into her purse and removed a photograph. She tossed it at my feet.
I bent slowly and picked it up.
A young woman stood on a balcony overlooking a gray sea. Dark hair. Serious eyes. A faint scar above her eyebrow.
My heart knew before my mind did.
Charlotte. Maria. My daughter.
On the back of the photograph was written one word.
Lisbon.
My hands shook.
Vanessa watched me carefully. “There. Proof of life. Now the drive.”
I looked at the photograph again. For twenty-six years, I had mourned a ghost. Now a living stranger stared back from glossy paper.
I stepped forward and held out the drive. Vanessa reached for it.
At that exact moment, Rosa moved.
She drove her heel down onto Marlowe’s foot and twisted away. His gun fired into the concrete. The sound cracked through the empty tower.
I lunged at Vanessa. She stumbled back, but not before snatching the drive from my hand.
Marlowe recovered fast. Too fast. He struck Rosa across the face and raised the gun toward me.
Then headlights flooded the construction site.
Not police headlights. News vans. Three of them. Then six. Then more. Cameras emerged like insects.
Harold Bennett ran from behind one of the concrete pillars, waving his arms. “No! Cut the lights! Cut the—”
His voice died when he saw me staring at him.
Behind the news crews came two federal SUVs. Men in tactical vests poured out.
“Federal agents!” someone shouted. “Weapons down!”
Marlowe swung toward them. A dozen guns answered. He froze.
Vanessa did not.
She bolted toward the black car. I ran after her. She reached the driver’s door, but I caught her wrist. For a moment we struggled in the glare of headlights, husband and wife, ruined king and vanished queen.
“What did you do?” she hissed.
“I learned from the help,” I said.
Her face twisted. Then she smiled. Not defeated. Not afraid. Triumphant.
“You still don’t understand,” she whispered.
Before I could ask what she meant, she opened her hand.
The flash drive was gone.
I looked past her.
The black car’s rear window lowered. A young woman sat inside. Dark hair. Serious eyes. A faint scar above her eyebrow.
My daughter looked at me once.
Then she raised the real flash drive between two fingers.
My blood turned cold.
Vanessa leaned close to my ear. “Part three begins with her,” she whispered.
May you like
The car shot backward, tires screaming, then tore through the side gate into the night.
I stood in the rain, surrounded by agents, cameras, sirens, and betrayal, holding only the photograph of the daughter who had just stolen the truth from my hand.
