Chapter 8 - MY MOTHER’S COMPANY
I called my mother from Falcon House.
She answered on the second ring.
“Is Ellie all right?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“Grandfather’s house.”
Silence.
Not surprise.
Silence.
“You knew I would come here.”
“Mara—”
“Did you know?”
“Come back to the city.”
“Did you know about the room?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of course you did.”
Rachel stood near the terminal, watching the driveway feeds.
I moved farther into the archive.
“Why is your company funding Mercury Residential?”
“It isn’t my company.”
“Northstar Holdings.”
“I haven’t controlled Northstar in years.”
“Your name is on it.”
“My name is on dozens of legacy entities.”
“Who controls it?”
“I don’t know.”
I almost screamed.
“Everyone suddenly knows nothing.”
“I am telling you the truth.”
“The truth would be a refreshing change.”
My mother went quiet.
Then said, “I knew about your procedure.”
I gripped the phone.
“At seventeen.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I tried to stop it.”
That was not what I expected.
“What?”
“Your father was told you had a genetic abnormality that could leave you infertile by twenty-five.
The doctors told us a procedure could preserve ovarian tissue.
It was experimental.
I refused.”
“But Dad signed.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because someone showed him falsified test results.”
“Who?”
“We didn’t know until years later.”
“Samuel Vale?”
“No.”
I looked toward the terminal.
“Then who?”
“Victor Hale suspected the lab results had been altered internally.”
“Why would anyone alter them?”
“That is the question your grandfather spent years trying to answer.”
“Why hide it from me?”
“I wanted to tell you.
Your grandfather insisted we wait until we knew exactly what had happened.”
“And then he died.”
“Yes.”
“And you kept waiting.”
“Yes.”
Her voice cracked.
It was the first time I had heard my mother sound fragile in years.
“I was ashamed.”
“For what?”
“For letting your father take you to that hospital.”
My anger softened by one degree.
Not forgiveness.
But complexity.
“What about Northstar?”
“I created it when you were a child.”
“For what?”
“Family philanthropy.
Medical research.
Education programs.”
“And then?”
“Your grandfather moved it into an external management structure after the scandal.”
“What scandal?”
“The one involving Samuel Vale.”
“What did he do?”
“He sold genetic information.”
My blood ran cold.
“To whom?”
“Private clients.
Foreign clinics.
Anyone willing to pay.”
“Mine?”
“We believe so.”
“Why would my genetic information be valuable?”
My mother hesitated.
“Because of the Kingsley lineage.”
“That means nothing medically.”
“No.
But financially it does.”
I understood.
An heir.
A child.
A succession mechanism.
Someone had transformed biology into corporate leverage.
“Mom, who controls Northstar now?”
“I told you.
I don’t know.”
“Find out.”
“Mara—”
“Find out.”
Rachel suddenly raised a hand.
A vehicle had appeared on the driveway feed.
Black sedan.
No plates visible.
“Someone’s here.”
“Mom, I have to go.”
“Wait.
Who is with you?”
“Rachel.”
“Leave immediately.”
The urgency in her voice made me freeze.
“Why?”
“Mara, listen to me.
Your grandfather never intended that archive to remain at Falcon House.”
“What?”
“He ordered it moved before his death.”
“Clearly it wasn’t.”
“I watched the trucks leave.”
Rachel and I looked at each other.
“What are you saying?”
“That room should be empty.”
The sedan stopped outside.
Two men got out.
Neither was Grant.
One was the man I had seen outside the church.
The supposed dead Daniel Cross.
Rachel drew her weapon.
“We move.
Now.”
We grabbed the drive, letter, and several folders.
A second exit existed behind the archive.
My grandfather had apparently anticipated more than bad dinner guests.
We emerged behind the greenhouse.
Rachel’s team was already moving.
The two men entered the house as we reached the vehicles.
Nobody fired.
Nobody chased us.
That bothered Rachel.
“They wanted us to find something,” she said as we drove away.
“The archive?”
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
“To control what you believe.”
I looked at the drive in my lap.
“What if the documents are fake?”
“Exactly.”
My phone rang.
Grant.
I answered.
“Mara, where are you?”
“Why?”
“Celeste called me.”
I straightened.
“When?”
“Two minutes ago.”
“Where is she?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
“Is she okay?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“She said everything we found was planted.”
Rachel heard.
Her expression darkened.
“Planted where?”
I asked.
Grant continued.
“The archive.”
My fingers tightened around the drive.
“How does she know I’m there?”
“She said whoever contacted you wanted you to find Northstar.”
I looked at Rachel.
“Why?”
“Because Northstar is a decoy.”
“For whom?”
Grant inhaled.
“She said the person behind this has been trying to turn you against your parents.”
“Who?”
“She wouldn’t say on the phone.”
“Then what did she say?”
Grant’s voice lowered.
“She gave me one name.”
I waited.
“Evan Hale.”
I almost laughed from disbelief.
“Evan is dead.”
“That’s what I said.”
“And?”
“Celeste said we’ve been wrong about the body I identified.”
The road seemed to tilt.
May you like
Grant continued.
“She says Evan Hale is alive.”
