Chapter 12 - The Billionaire's Hidden Signature
I stepped back from the stretcher.
“No.”
Dad looked at me.
“Avery—”
“Dominic was twenty-six.”
“He was old enough.”
I shook my head.
“He said he destroyed Gabriel's evidence.”
Dad's expression changed.
“He told you that?”
“Yes.”
Dad closed his eyes.
“Oh, God.”
I leaned closer.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“Then he remembers.”
I felt cold.
“Remembers what?”
Dad struggled to sit up.
A paramedic gently stopped him.
“Sir, you need to rest.”
Dad ignored him.
“He signed the authorization.”
I stared.
“What authorization?”
“The one that kept the program running.”
I looked toward Claire.
She had heard everything.
Her expression was grim.
“Thomas, do you have evidence?”
Dad nodded weakly.
“Gabriel made copies.”
“Where?”
Dad looked at my necklace.
“The compass.”
I touched it.
“We have both halves.”
His eyes widened.
“Then open the box.”
“Someone already did.”
Dad froze.
“What?”
Claire stepped closer.
“The storage box was accessed using your identification.”
Dad's face drained.
“That's impossible.”
I took his hand.
“Dad, someone used your name.”
He began shaking.
“They found it.”
“What?”
“The backup.”
I stared.
“What backup?”
Dad looked at Claire.
“The original records.”
Claire leaned closer.
“Thomas, where are they?”
Dad whispered, “Not in the box.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“The box was a decoy.”
I stared at him.
“Then why did everyone want the pendants?”
“Because they thought the records were there.”
He looked at me.
“But Gabriel and I knew someone might force us to open it.”
My pulse quickened.
“Then where is the evidence?”
Dad's eyes moved toward the pendant.
“Look inside.”
I unclasped the necklace.
Claire examined it.
The silver compass had a tiny seam along the broken edge.
She carefully turned it.
A small metal pin slid free.
Inside was a thin strip of engraved metal.
Numbers.
Letters.
A sequence.
Claire photographed it.
Dad closed his eyes.
“That's the access key.”
“For what?”
“A secure archive.”
I looked at him.
“Where?”
He whispered, “The old plant.”
The same plant where he supposedly died.
The same place the threats had ordered me to visit.
Claire nodded.
“We'll tell Ruiz.”
Dad grabbed my wrist.
“No.”
“Why?”
His face twisted with fear.
“Because someone inside the investigation is helping them.”
Claire went still.
“What makes you think that?”
Dad looked toward the ambulance doors.
“The men who took me knew exactly when the police were coming.”
I felt sick.
Claire exchanged a look with Ruiz.
He immediately began checking who had access to the operation.
Then Dad whispered something else.
“Dominic may not know what he signed.”
I stared.
“What?”
“He was told the authorization was for legitimate medical research.”
I shook my head.
“But you said he owned the program.”
“On paper.”
Dad closed his eyes.
“Victor used his name.”
My anger shifted.
Not disappeared.
Shifted.
Dominic had destroyed evidence.
That was real.
But perhaps he'd also been used.
Dad squeezed my hand.
“Don't decide who is guilty before you see the records.”
I nodded.
For the first time in hours, I could breathe.
Then a nurse approached.
“We need to transport him.”
I kissed Dad's forehead.
“I'll see you at the hospital.”
He smiled weakly.
“Bring your mother.”
I started crying again.
“I will.”
The ambulance doors closed.
I watched it drive away.
Claire stood beside me.
“We need to move quickly.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because whoever controls the archive knows your father can identify it.”
My phone vibrated.
Dominic.
I answered.
“Where are you?” he demanded.
I looked at Claire.
“Why?”
“Because someone just sent me a photograph.”
My stomach tightened.
“Of what?”
“My father.”
I frowned.
“Victor is dead.”
“I know.”
Dominic's voice shook.
“But the photograph was taken yesterday.”
I stared.
“What?”
He sent it.
Victor Moretti sat in a wheelchair beside a hospital window.
Older.
Thin.
But unmistakably alive.
I looked at Claire.
She saw the image.
Her face went white.
Dominic whispered, “Avery, I think my father faked his death.”
Then a second photograph arrived.
Victor stood beside Richard Whitmore.
May you like
And between them was Lily.
Alive.
