Chapter 3 — My Father Was Already Watching
Chapter 3 — My Father Was Already Watching
My father had a gun pointed at me.
Not at Victor.
Not at Adrian.
Not at the men who had just opened fire inside his own house.
At me.
For eleven years, I had believed my father was the one person in the world who would never hurt me.
Now he stood at the bottom of the staircase, blood on his shirt, his face calm, his weapon steady.
And he had just told me to kill my sister.
Nobody moved.
Not even the guards.
My sister, Elena, stood behind me.
I could feel her trembling.
“Dad,” I whispered.
His eyes remained on mine.
“Margaret.”
“What happened to you?”
“Nothing that matters.”
“You're bleeding.”
“It isn't my blood.”
I looked at the stain on his shirt.
Then at the gun.
Then at Elena.
“Who are you?”
He frowned.
“What?”
I laughed softly.
It wasn't because anything was funny.
“I thought I knew you.”
“You do.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I knew the man who taught me how to ride a bicycle.”
His expression softened for half a second.
“I knew the man who waited outside my school when I was bullied.”
“Margaret—”
“I knew the man who told me my mother abandoned us.”
His face hardened.
“But I don't know the man standing in front of me.”
He lowered the gun slightly.
“Then listen.”
“I've been listening for eleven years.”
“No.”
He looked at Elena.
“You've been listening to lies.”
Victor slowly stood.
His suit was torn from Adrian's attack.
He looked at my father.
“You should have stayed gone.”
My father didn't look at him.
“You should have stayed out of this.”
Victor smiled.
“I tried.”
My father finally turned.
“And failed.”
Adrian stood between them.
“What is happening?”
Neither man answered.
Adrian looked at me.
“Margaret, get Elena out.”
My father immediately raised the gun again.
“No.”
Adrian stepped forward.
“Dad.”
“Move.”
“You're pointing a gun at her.”
“I said move.”
Adrian stared at him.
“You're serious.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
My father looked at Elena.
“Because she knows.”
“Knows what?”
“Everything.”
Elena's voice shook.
“No.”
My father looked at her.
“You were never supposed to come back.”
“I came because she deserved to know.”
“Know what?”
I stepped forward.
My father raised the gun.
“Stop.”
I stopped.
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Then shoot me.”
His eyes widened.
I didn't move.
“Shoot me, Dad.”
The room went silent.
“If killing me is the only way to protect this secret, then do it.”
His hand trembled.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
The man who had never missed a target was shaking.
That told me more than words could.
He didn't want to shoot me.
He was afraid.
Not of me.
Of what would happen if he lowered the gun.
“Margaret,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“You don't understand what you're asking.”
“Then explain.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because if I tell you, they will come.”
“Who?”
He looked toward Victor.
“The people who own him.”
Victor's face changed.
“Don't.”
My father smiled bitterly.
“Still pretending you're the top of the chain?”
Victor said nothing.
My father turned back to me.
“Victor Vale isn't the enemy.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“He's a middleman.”
The room erupted in whispers.
Adrian looked at his father.
“You told me we owned everything.”
Victor closed his eyes.
“I was trying to protect you.”
Adrian laughed bitterly.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
My father continued.
“The Vale family controls money.”
He paused.
“They don't control the people behind it.”
“Who does?”
My father looked at me.
“Your mother knew.”
My heart stopped.
“You said she was dangerous.”
“She was.”
“Why?”
“Because she found them.”
“Found who?”
“The people who built this city.”
I frowned.
“Politicians?”
“No.”
“Bankers?”
“No.”
“Criminals?”
My father shook his head.
“Something worse.”
He lowered the gun.
“Families.”
I didn't understand.
“What does that mean?”
My father looked around the ballroom.
“Look at the people here.”
I did.
Senators.
Billionaires.
Judges.
CEOs.
Old-money families.
People who controlled newspapers.
Banks.
Hospitals.
Construction companies.
Even police departments.
My father pointed at them.
“Do you know why they came tonight?”
“For the charity.”
He laughed.
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because they knew something was going to happen.”
A cold feeling spread through me.
“They knew?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because I told them.”
I stared at him.
“You invited them?”
“Yes.”
“To trap me?”
“No.”
He looked at Elena.
“To expose them.”
Victor suddenly shouted:
“Enough!”
Every head turned.
He looked terrified.
Not angry.
Terrified.
My father smiled.
“You know what comes next.”
Victor shook his head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You promised.”
“I promised your son.”
Adrian looked at him.
“What did you promise?”
My father looked at Adrian.
“That his family would be spared.”
Victor stared at him.
“You said you would protect us.”
“I tried.”
“Then why are we here?”
“Because your son chose her.”
Adrian looked at me.
My father continued.
“That changed everything.”
A sound came from the far end of the ballroom.
A slow clap.
Everyone turned.
A man stepped forward.
I had seen him before.
At charity dinners.
At political fundraisers.
On television.
He was a respected senator.
A man known for his speeches about family values.
Senator Richard Kane.
He smiled.
“Richard Reynolds.”
My father's expression became cold.
“Kane.”
“You really believed you could expose us?”
“Not believed.”
He looked around.
“Planned.”
Kane laughed.
“You always were arrogant.”
“And you always were careless.”
Kane's smile disappeared.
“You brought three hundred witnesses into one room.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
My father answered:
“Because when powerful people believe they're safe, they talk.”
Kane looked at the guests.
Several men suddenly moved toward the exits.
The doors locked again.
Panic began.
Kane turned toward my father.
“You're insane.”
“No.”
My father looked at me.
“I'm a father.”
Kane raised his hand.
Three men drew weapons.
Security responded immediately.
Gunfire erupted.
I ducked.
Elena screamed.
Adrian grabbed both of us and pulled us behind the marble bar.
Glass shattered around us.
People ran.
Tables overturned.
The orchestra disappeared beneath the screams.
My father fired once.
One gunman dropped.
Then twice.
Another.
Kane ran toward the service corridor.
My father followed.
“Dad!”
He didn't turn.
I wanted to chase him.
Adrian grabbed my arm.
“No.”
“I have to go.”
“You'll get killed.”
“That's my father.”
“And he just pointed a gun at you.”
I looked at him.
“He's still my father.”
Adrian released my arm.
“Then I'm coming.”
Elena stepped forward.
“No.”
We both looked at her.
She was crying.
“You can't.”
“Why?”
“Because that's what he wants.”
“What?”
“He wants you to follow him.”
I stared.
“Why?”
She shook her head.
“Because the entire thing was planned.”
I looked at the ballroom.
The locked doors.
The cameras.
The guests.
The security guards.
Victor.
Kane.
My father.
Everything suddenly looked different.
“What did he plan?”
Elena whispered:
“To make you choose.”
“Choose what?”
“Family.”
She swallowed.
“Or the truth.”
My phone vibrated.
A message.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
LOOK UP.
I did.
A camera was pointed directly at me.
Then another.
Then another.
My father's voice came through the speakers.
“Margaret.”
The ballroom went silent.
His voice echoed from every corner.
“I know you're listening.”
I stared at the cameras.
“I know you're angry.”
My hands shook.
“But you need to understand something.”
The screen behind the stage came alive.
It showed me.
Live.
Standing in the ballroom.
Then another image appeared.
My mother.
Alive.
Sitting in a room.
Her hands tied.
My breath stopped.
“Mom.”
Her eyes looked directly into the camera.
Then she whispered:
“Margaret.”
I stepped toward the screen.
“Mom!”
My father spoke again.
“If you want her alive, come alone.”
I looked around.
“Where?”
The screen changed.
A map appeared.
A red dot.
The old Reynolds estate.
The house where I had grown up.
The place I hadn't visited in eleven years.
My father continued:
“Come to the basement.”
Elena grabbed my arm.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because that's where they took her.”
“Who?”
She looked at Victor.
“Everyone.”
I turned toward Victor.
“What does she mean?”
Victor didn't answer.
“Tell me.”
He remained silent.
Adrian stepped toward him.
“Dad.”
Victor looked at his son.
“I never wanted this.”
Adrian's expression hardened.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Margaret's mother was alive.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Elena.”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me.”
“No.”
Adrian looked devastated.
“You used me.”
Victor didn't deny it.
“I needed someone close to Margaret.”
Adrian looked at me.
His eyes filled with regret.
“I thought I was protecting my family.”
“You were spying on me.”
“Yes.”
“You lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“You touched me.”
His face crumbled.
“Yes.”
I looked away.
For a moment, I hated him.
Then I remembered the way he'd removed his family ring.
The way he'd stood between me and his father.
I didn't know whether that made him trustworthy.
But I knew one thing.
He wasn't the only one who had lied.
Everyone had.
Elena took my hand.
“Don't go.”
“I have to.”
“No.”
“She has my mother.”
“She wants you there.”
“I know.”
“Then it's a trap.”
I looked at her.
“Everything tonight is a trap.”
She stared at me.
“What will you do?”
I took a breath.
“Walk into it.”
Adrian stepped beside me.
“I'll come.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Margaret.”
“My father said alone.”
“He'll kill you.”
“Maybe.”
He stared at me.
“Then I'm definitely coming.”
I almost smiled.
“You don't listen.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because five years ago, I was told to get close to you.”
He looked at me.
“But now I'm here because I choose to be.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Elena whispered:
“Take this.”
She handed me the flash drive.
“What is it?”
“The truth.”
“About my mother?”
“About everything.”
I slipped it into my pocket.
“Why didn't you give it to me before?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
She looked toward the screen.
“Of what you'll become when you learn what's on it.”
I walked toward the center of the ballroom.
The doors opened.
Security stepped aside.
Nobody tried to stop me.
The guests watched.
Some looked afraid.
Some looked guilty.
Some looked relieved that someone else was taking the risk.
I stopped at the doorway.
Then turned.
Victor was sitting on the floor beside the overturned bar.
Adrian stood nearby.
Elena watched me.
“Take care of them,” I told Adrian.
He nodded.
“What about you?”
I looked toward the dark corridor.
“I'm going to find my mother.”
The drive to the old Reynolds estate took forty minutes.
I went alone.
Or at least, I thought I did.
I knew Adrian had probably followed me.
I didn't turn around.
The house appeared through the trees.
Black windows.
Broken gate.
No lights.
I parked.
The front door was unlocked.
I stepped inside.
The smell hit me immediately.
Dust.
Wood.
And something else.
Something familiar.
My mother's perfume.
I froze.
“Mom?”
Nothing.
I walked through the hallway.
The portraits were still there.
My childhood photographs.
My mother's paintings.
My father's books.
Everything looked exactly the same.
Except one thing.
A photograph had been removed from the wall.
I touched the empty frame.
A voice came from behind me.
“You always liked that picture.”
I spun around.
My father stood at the end of the hall.
Gun in hand.
Again.
“Where's Mom?”
“Downstairs.”
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
“Then take me to her.”
He shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because first you need to understand why I watched you for eleven years.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He walked closer.
“I wasn't hiding from you.”
“Then what?”
“I was watching you.”
“Why?”
“Because someone was watching you.”
“Who?”
He looked toward the dark basement door.
“The people who killed your sister.”
My heart stopped.
“Elena is alive.”
He shook his head.
“Not your first sister.”
I couldn't breathe.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“Elena was the second child.”
I stared.
“There was another?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
He whispered:
“Her name was Rebecca.”
The world seemed to stop.
“How many sisters do I have?”
My father's face broke.
“Three.”
I stepped backward.
“No.”
“Margaret—”
“No.”
He lowered his gun.
“Your mother gave birth to three daughters.”
“Where are they?”
He closed his eyes.
“Two are alive.”
“And the third?”
Silence.
Then:
“She was the reason your mother disappeared.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
My father looked toward the basement.
“Because she knew which one of you was supposed to inherit the Reynolds trust.”
I swallowed.
“Who?”
He looked directly at me.
“You.”
The basement door opened behind him.
A woman's voice floated upward.
“Margaret.”
I knew that voice.
My mother's.
Alive.
Terrified.
And then she screamed.
“Don't trust your father!”
My father closed his eyes.
I raised my gun.
Not at him.
At the basement door.
Then a second voice came from below.
A child's voice.
Small.
Shaking.
“Mommy?”
My blood turned cold.
I looked at my father.
He whispered:
“She was never supposed to survive.”
The basement lights came on.
And standing at the bottom of the stairs was a little girl.
Maybe six years old.
Holding a photograph of me.
She looked up.
Our eyes met.
Then she whispered:
“Are you my sister?”
I couldn't breathe.
Because I knew that face.
I had seen it before.
In a photograph dated eleven years ago.
And suddenly I understood why my father had been watching me all these years.
He hadn't been protecting me from my enemies.
He had been protecting my enemies from me.
I took one step down the stairs.
Then another.
Behind me, the front door slammed shut.
The house locked itself.
And my father's voice came from the darkness.
May you like
“Welcome home, Margaret.”
The lights went out.
