Chapter 4 - My Father’s Final Warning Made Me Question the One Man Who Had Protected Me for Nine YearsI confronted Adrian.
“You knew.”
He didn't deny it.
“Yes.”
“You knew my father warned me about you?”
“Yes.”
“And you stayed.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew your father was wrong.”
“How?”
“Because I was there.”
“At the warehouse?”
“Yes.”
“You saw him die.”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me.”
He looked at me.
“Your father didn't trust me.”
“Why?”
“Because he thought I would become my father.”
“And did you?”
“No.”
“But he feared it.”
“Yes.”
“Why did he tell me not to trust you?”
“Because he didn't know who he could trust.”
I stared.
“And you?”
“I don't trust anyone.”
“Except?”
He looked at me.
“You.”
My heart hurt.
Then the truth came.
“My father tried to kill you.”
I froze.
“What?”
“He believed you knew too much.”
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you were the person he couldn't control.”
I looked at Emma.
“She was born later.”
“Yes.”
“Then why is she involved?”
“Because your daughter inherited your father's memory trait.”
I frowned.
“My father had it too.”
“Yes.”
“He remembered everything.”
“Yes.”
“That's why The Keeper wanted him.”
“Yes.”
“And now Emma.”
“Yes.”
I felt sick.
“Why doesn't she remember everything?”
“She was too young.”
“But she is remembering now.”
“Yes.”
“Can they force her to remember?”
“They can try.”
“I won't let them.”
“I know.”
That night, someone tried to enter the safe house.
The alarm stopped them.
Security caught one man.
He carried a photograph.
Emma.
Taken at school.
Three months earlier.
I screamed.
“How long?”
Adrian looked at the picture.
“Longer than we thought.”
I felt helpless.
“What do I do?”
He took my hand.
“Stay.”
“Where?”
“With me.”
I stared.
“That's not an answer.”
“It is.”
“I need more.”
He leaned closer.
“I won't ask you to trust me blindly.”
“Good.”
“I'll give you proof.”
He showed me a file.
Everything he'd collected.
Medical records.
Financial reports.
Surveillance.
Names.
The Keeper.
The network.
My father's death.
My mother's disappearance.
Mark's involvement.
Every detail.
At the bottom was one name.
Mark Jensen.
I froze.
“My ex-husband.”
“Yes.”
“What about him?”
“He wasn't working with The Keeper.”
“Then who?”
“He was working for your father.”
I felt dizzy.
My father's network had survived his death.
Mark had been part of it.
But why?
Adrian answered.
“Because he was supposed to protect you.”
“He abused me.”
“No.”
“He lied.”
“Yes.”
“He married me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To monitor you.”
I felt sick.
He had been watching me.
Not loving me.
Monitoring me.
“What did he report?”
“Your memories.”
“Your relationship with me.”
“Your pregnancy.”
“Your daughter.”
I closed my eyes.
Mark had known everything.
He'd known Emma was special.
He'd known The Keeper was coming.
He had been afraid.
But he had still let Wayne hurt her.
Why?
Because Wayne had threatened him.
That wasn't an excuse.
It was evidence.
I asked Adrian:
“Where is Mark?”
“In custody.”
“Bring him.”
Adrian hesitated.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Mark entered.
He looked broken.
I stared at him.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about my father.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about Adrian.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about Emma.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I was ordered not to.”
“By whom?”
“Your father.”
“He's dead.”
“The order didn't disappear.”
I felt cold.
“Who gave it to you after?”
He whispered:
“Your mother.”
I froze.
“My mother is alive.”
Mark nodded.
“She has been.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“No.”
He looked at Adrian.
“She contacted me through an intermediary.”
“Who?”
“The Keeper.”
Silence.
I stared.
“My mother works for The Keeper?”
Mark shook his head.
“No.”
“She has been trying to stop him.”
“How?”
“She hid information.”
She moved people.
She protected children.
She kept Emma hidden.
I looked at Adrian.
“Where?”
He didn't know.
Then Mark said:
“There is one place.”
“What?”
“The old family church.”
My mother's favorite place.
The one place I had not visited in years.
We went that night.
The church was empty.
Except for one envelope.
My name.
Inside:
A photograph of my mother.
Alive.
And a handwritten note.
Come alone.
I looked at Adrian.
“You're not coming.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she asked you.”
I stared.
“That's a trap.”
“Probably.”
“Then why let me go?”
He smiled sadly.
“Because I promised you freedom.”
I hugged him.
May you like
For the first time in nine years.
And then I walked into the church alone.
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