Chapter 3 - The Man Who Was Supposed to Be DeadDamian had seen men lie while dying.
He had seen priests lie.
Police officers.
Judges.
Witnesses.
Children.
But Tessa did not look like she was lying.
She looked terrified.
“My father died twenty-two years ago.”
“I know.”
“You're saying he's alive.”
“I think so.”
“Why would he want you?”
Tessa stared at the ceiling.
“Because he believes my family stole something from him.”
“What?”
“The truth.”
Damian didn't like the answer.
“What truth?”
Tessa reached beneath the hospital blanket.
She pulled out a small envelope.
“I was told to give this to you if they found me.”
“Who told you?”
“My sister.”
“You said she's missing.”
“She is.”
“How did she give you this?”
“Before she disappeared.”
Damian opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
His father.
Young.
Standing beside Evelyn Miller.
They were smiling.
Behind them was a little girl.
Tessa's sister.
On the back:
The girl who survived knows everything.
Damian stared.
“Where is your sister?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why did she say that?”
“She wanted you to find her.”
“Why me?”
Tessa looked at him.
“Because she said your father trusted you.”
Damian laughed bitterly.
“My father trusted nobody.”
“He trusted you enough to leave you the organization.”
“That isn't trust.”
“What is it?”
“A curse.”
Tessa looked away.
Damian suddenly understood.
He had inherited more than money.
He had inherited unfinished crimes.
Thomas.
Evelyn.
The Millers.
His father's secrets.
And now Tessa.
A knock came.
Paul entered.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“Someone accessed the hospital records.”
“Who?”
“Your mother.”
Damian froze.
“Beatrice?”
Paul nodded.
“Twenty minutes ago.”
Damian left immediately.
His mother was standing in the library.
An old photograph lay on the desk.
Tessa entered behind him.
Beatrice looked at them.
“You brought her back.”
“Yes.”
Beatrice smiled weakly.
“I knew you would.”
Damian slammed the photograph on the desk.
“What did you do to her family?”
Beatrice stared at him.
“I made a choice.”
“What choice?”
“Your father wanted Tessa's sister.”
“Why?”
“Because she was the witness.”
“To what?”
Beatrice looked at Tessa.
“The night Evelyn escaped.”
Tessa stared.
“What happened to my mother?”
Beatrice's voice broke.
“She trusted me.”
“And you betrayed her.”
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
“I don't know.”
Tessa stepped closer.
“You do.”
Beatrice looked at her.
“I know where she was last seen.”
“Where?”
“Costa Cemetery.”
Damian frowned.
“There is no Costa Cemetery.”
Beatrice smiled sadly.
“Exactly.”
That night, Damian and Tessa went to an old property outside the city.
No signs.
No guards.
No graves.
Only trees.
Tessa held a flashlight.
“Your mother said cemetery.”
Damian searched the ground.
He found a stone marker.
Not a grave.
A door.
They opened it.
A staircase descended.
Below was a hidden archive.
Thousands of files.
Photographs.
Audio recordings.
Documents.
A history of the Costa family.
And a room labeled:
MILLER FAMILY — PROJECT 17.
Tessa stopped.
Damian opened the file.
It contained her birth records.
Her sister's.
Their parents'.
And a photograph of Tessa as a child.
Beside her stood a man.
Damian's father.
Tessa stepped back.
“He knew me.”
“Yes.”
“Before I came to work here.”
“Yes.”
She began to cry.
Damian turned the page.
There was another photograph.
Tessa at age six.
Beside her:
Damian.
Also six.
They were standing together at a family party.
Damian stared.
“I don't remember.”
Tessa shook her head.
“Neither do I.”
A recording began automatically.
His father's voice.
“Children forget.”
Another voice.
Evelyn.
“They shouldn't have to.”
His father answered:
“Memory is a liability.”
Tessa covered her mouth.
Damian's fists tightened.
The recording continued.
“Subject B-17 is unstable.”
Evelyn cried.
“She is a child.”
“She is an access point.”
“To what?”
“The Costa archive.”
Damian stared.
His father's voice continued.
“One day, Tessa will unlock everything.”
The room went silent.
Tessa whispered:
“What does that mean?”
Damian looked at her.
“I don't know.”
Then the lights went out.
A gunshot echoed through the chamber.
The archive door slammed shut.
Tessa screamed.
Damian grabbed her.
Someone whispered from the darkness.
“Your father was right.”
A second voice answered.
“He always is.”
Damian recognized it.
Thomas.
But there was another man beside him.
Older.
Calm.
Familiar.
Damian's blood turned cold.
The man stepped into the dim emergency light.
Gray hair.
Blue eyes.
A scar beneath his chin.
Damian whispered:
“No.”
May you like
The man smiled.
“Hello, son.”
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