Chapter 7 - The Journal Finally Revealed the Location of the True Archive, and It Was Hidden Beneath a Building Dominic OwnedThe final map pointed back to Manhattan.

A building Dominic owned.

An old theater.

Closed for decades.

I stared.

"You own this?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"My father bought it."

We entered after midnight.

The stage was covered in dust.

The seats were rotting.

But beneath the floor was another room.

The journal opened.

The symbols changed.

I translated.

The archive sleeps beneath the stage of forgotten stories.

We removed the floorboards.

A spiral staircase appeared.

At the bottom was a massive stone door.

The pendant fit.

Nothing happened.

I touched the door.

Nothing.

Then I remembered my father's words.

Your memories will unlock what paper cannot.

I spoke the symbols aloud.

The door opened.

Inside were shelves.

Thousands of books.

Artifacts.

Documents.

Maps.

Photographs.

And a central table.

On it lay a letter.

For me.

Olivia Hart, daughter of William Hart.

I opened it.

The archive said the heir had one responsibility.

Choose whether the knowledge should belong to one person or everyone.

If I chose power, the archive would obey me.

If I chose transparency, the archive would become public.

The choice frightened me.

Dominic said:

"You don't have to decide tonight."

I looked at him.

"Yes, I do."

Vane entered.

He had followed us.

He applauded.

"Beautiful."

I turned.

He smiled.

"Your father always believed you would choose correctly."

"You killed people for this."

"People die for valuable things."

"Not me."

He laughed.

"You're fourteen."

"That doesn't make me stupid."

He raised his gun.

Dominic stepped forward.

"Leave her alone."

Vane smiled.

"The billionaire and the little waitress."

"You still think I'm a waitress?"

I stepped toward the archive.

The floor began glowing.

Symbols appeared.

Vane stared.

"What did you do?"

"I chose."

The archive opened.

Everything became visible.

Financial records.

Names.

Evidence.

The truth.

Vane tried to stop it.

But the information had already begun transmitting.

To journalists.

Courts.

Governments.

The world.

His empire was finished.

Then the room shook.

Vane grabbed the journal.

A hidden door opened behind him.

He disappeared.

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My father was standing there.

Alive.