Chapter 7 — The Name Reyes Was Hiding
Chapter 7 — The Name Reyes Was Hiding
The gunshot came from the darkness.
The scream came a second later.
But it wasn't mine.
It was Vincent.
“I'm hit!”
Dom moved instantly.
“Stay down!”
I dropped behind the console as another shot struck the metal railing above us.
Sparks exploded across the room.
Vincent fired back.
The darkness filled with echoes.
Then silence.
My hands were shaking.
“Dom?”
“I'm here.”
His voice was close.
Too close.
I reached out blindly and caught his sleeve.
“Where's Vincent?”
“Alive.”
“Who fired?”
“I don't know.”
Then the emergency lights came on.
Dim red bulbs illuminated the underground room.
Vincent was crouched behind a cabinet, one hand pressed against his shoulder.
Blood ran between his fingers.
Dom crossed the room.
“Let me see.”
“It's a graze.”
“That's not what I asked.”
Vincent removed his hand.
The bullet had torn through his jacket and cut the skin beneath it.
Dom exhaled.
“Lucky.”
Vincent smiled.
“Story of my life.”
I looked toward the tunnel.
Nothing.
No attacker.
No mother.
No footsteps.
Only the echo of her voice remained.
Don't trust him.
I turned toward Dom.
“Where did she go?”
He looked at the tunnel.
“She knows the house.”
“How?”
“My father built it.”
“Your father died twenty-three years ago.”
“Yes.”
“And my mother disappeared twelve years ago.”
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
“So how did she get here?”
Dom didn't answer.
“Dom.”
“I don't know.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You really need a new answer.”
His eyes met mine.
“I don't have one.”
Vincent was treated in the medical room beneath the house.
While he sat there, Dom examined the bullet.
He held it beneath the light.
“Same caliber as the warehouse.”
I looked at him.
“So it's the same person.”
“Probably.”
“Then why didn't they kill us?”
Dom looked at me.
“Because they wanted us frightened.”
“Or they missed.”
“They didn't.”
That answer made my stomach tighten.
I looked toward the tunnel.
“My mother was here.”
“Yes.”
“She wanted me to know something.”
“Yes.”
“She said you were responsible for her disappearance.”
Dom's expression became unreadable.
“Do you believe her?”
I hesitated.
“I don't know.”
He nodded.
“That is fair.”
“Did you hurt her?”
“No.”
“Did you betray her?”
“No.”
“Did your father?”
Dom was silent.
“That answer means yes.”
“My father did many things.”
“Did he betray my family?”
“Yes.”
I stared.
The honesty shocked me.
“What did he do?”
Dom placed the bullet on the table.
“That's what we're going to find out.”
He led me deeper into the underground facility.
Past the security room.
Past the medical room.
Past a storage area filled with old equipment.
Finally, we reached a steel door.
There was no handle.
Dom placed his palm against a scanner.
A light flashed.
The door opened.
Inside was an archive.
Rows of shelves.
Thousands of files.
Boxes labeled with dates.
Names.
Companies.
Countries.
I stared.
“This is your father's archive.”
“Yes.”
“How long has it been here?”
“Almost forty years.”
“And you never opened everything?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because my father divided the archive into sections.”
“Why?”
“Because no single person was supposed to know everything.”
I looked at him.
“Not even you?”
“Especially not me.”
He walked to a shelf.
Stopped.
Pulled out a box.
The label read:
REYES — ORIGINAL
My heart stopped.
“That says my family.”
Dom placed it on the table.
“Your family wasn't always called Reyes.”
I frowned.
“What?”
He opened the box.
Inside were birth certificates.
Property records.
Old photographs.
Marriage licenses.
Bank documents.
And one piece of paper that made my blood run cold.
A family tree.
At the top was a name.
RAFAEL DE LA CRUZ.
I looked at Dom.
“Who is that?”
“Your great-great-grandfather.”
I stared at the document.
“That's not Reyes.”
“No.”
“Then where did Reyes come from?”
Dom turned the page.
“Your family changed its name.”
“Why?”
“Protection.”
“From whom?”
“From the government.”
I blinked.
“What?”
Dom pointed toward another document.
A newspaper clipping from 1968.
The headline read:
INDUSTRIALIST VANISHES AFTER GOVERNMENT INVESTIGATION
Underneath was a photograph.
The man was Rafael de la Cruz.
My ancestor.
I read the article.
He had owned shipping companies.
Railway interests.
Mines.
Banks.
Real estate.
His fortune had been enormous.
Then investigators accused him of laundering money for foreign governments.
He disappeared.
His companies were seized.
His family vanished.
Except one branch.
The Reyes branch.
I looked at Dom.
“My family changed its name to survive.”
“Yes.”
“Did Rafael commit those crimes?”
Dom shook his head.
“No.”
“Then who did?”
He handed me another file.
Inside were photographs of government officials accepting envelopes.
Bank transfers.
Secret agreements.
Names.
And one familiar surname.
Vasquez.
I stared.
“Your family.”
Dom nodded.
“My grandfather was involved.”
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
“Were they the ones who framed mine?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Dom pointed to another name.
Caldwell.
I frowned.
“Who are they?”
“One of the most powerful financial families in the country.”
“What did they do?”
“They wanted your family's assets.”
“So they destroyed the De la Cruz name.”
“Yes.”
“And my grandfather escaped.”
“Yes.”
“Then why Reyes?”
Dom took a breath.
“Because your grandfather believed the Caldwell family would eventually find him.”
I looked at the records.
“And they did?”
“Eventually.”
“Then why am I still alive?”
Dom looked at me.
“Because your grandfather made a deal.”
“With whom?”
“My father.”
I stepped backward.
“What deal?”
Dom opened another file.
This one was marked:
PROTOCOL REYES
The first page contained only one sentence.
Protect the final heir at all costs.
My throat tightened.
“Final heir?”
Dom nodded.
“That means me?”
“Yes.”
“Why am I the final heir?”
“Because everyone else was eliminated.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
Dom continued.
“Your grandfather had three children.”
“My mother.”
“Yes.”
“Who were the other two?”
“Your aunt Elena.”
“And?”
He hesitated.
“Your uncle Mateo.”
I had never heard that name.
“Mateo?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to him?”
“He disappeared.”
“When?”
“Fourteen years before your mother.”
“How?”
“Your family believes he was killed.”
I swallowed.
“By whom?”
“We don't know.”
I looked down at the family tree.
There were three children.
Elena.
My mother.
Mateo.
Then me.
The last surviving direct descendant.
My hands began trembling.
“That means…”
Dom finished the sentence.
“Everyone hunting you isn't looking for the Reyes fortune.”
“They're looking for the heir.”
“Yes.”
“Me.”
“Yes.”
I sat down.
The room suddenly felt too small.
“My whole life…”
I couldn't finish.
Dom sat across from me.
“You were raised believing your family had nothing.”
“Yes.”
“That was deliberate.”
“By my grandfather?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To make you invisible.”
I laughed bitterly.
“It worked.”
“Until now.”
I looked at him.
“What changed?”
“Your twenty-fifth birthday.”
“My birthday?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“The trust matured.”
I stared.
“What trust?”
“The Reyes Continuity Trust.”
I had never heard of it.
“What does it own?”
Dom looked at me.
“Everything your family supposedly lost.”
My heart stopped.
“The companies?”
“Yes.”
“The property?”
“Yes.”
“The bank accounts?”
“Yes.”
“The shipping terminals?”
“Yes.”
“The hidden fortune?”
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Dom didn't blink.
“You're the owner of an empire that technically doesn't exist.”
I stared at him.
“Then why don't I have access to it?”
“Because your grandfather designed it so access could only be granted under one condition.”
“What condition?”
“Your family had to be threatened.”
I looked around the archive.
“The attacks.”
“Yes.”
“The ledger.”
“Yes.”
“The people hunting me.”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
Dom's voice softened.
“Now the trust has activated.”
A computer behind us suddenly came alive.
The screen displayed a message.
BENEFICIARY CONFIRMED.
Then:
NEMA REYES.
My breath caught.
Another line appeared.
SECURITY PROTOCOL ACTIVE.
Then:
ALL ASSETS UNDER PROTOCOL REYES HAVE BEEN FROZEN.
I stared.
“What does that mean?”
Dom looked at the screen.
“It means nobody can sell, transfer, borrow against, or access your family's assets.”
“Not even you?”
“Not even me.”
“Not even the Caldwell family?”
“No.”
“Then why are they trying to kill me?”
Dom looked at the final line appearing on the screen.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He didn't answer.
“Dom.”
He pointed.
A final message appeared.
PRIMARY THREAT IDENTIFIED: MIGUEL VASQUEZ.
I stared.
“Your father.”
Dom's face had gone pale.
“But he's dead.”
The screen changed.
A photograph appeared.
The same man from my mother's photograph.
Miguel Vasquez.
Alive.
Standing beside my mother.
And beneath the photograph was a date.
EIGHT MONTHS AGO.
I couldn't breathe.
Dom stepped closer.
“My father is alive.”
I looked at him.
“And he has been working with my mother.”
“Yes.”
“Against you?”
“I don't know.”
I stared at the screen.
Then another photograph appeared.
This one showed three people.
My mother.
Miguel.
And a third person.
An older man.
I recognized him immediately.
My grandfather.
But he had died twenty-three years ago.
The photograph was dated:
TWO MONTHS AGO.
I whispered:
“That can't be real.”
Dom stared at it.
“I don't understand.”
Then the archive computer began printing.
One page.
Then another.
Then another.
Vincent entered the room, holding his injured shoulder.
“What happened?”
Dom looked at him.
“The archive has been accessed.”
“By whom?”
Dom didn't answer.
The printer continued.
Finally, one last page emerged.
I picked it up.
It contained a single sentence.
THE REYES NAME WAS NEVER A NAME.
Below it:
IT WAS A WARNING.
And beneath that:
THE REAL FAMILY NAME IS CALDWELL.
I stared at the page.
My entire body went cold.
“No.”
Dom looked at me.
“What?”
I pointed at the paper.
“My family wasn't hiding from the Caldwells.”
He frowned.
“Then what?”
I looked at the family tree.
At Rafael de la Cruz.
At the Reyes name.
At the Caldwell name.
And suddenly I understood the terrifying possibility.
“The Caldwell family wasn't our enemy.”
Dom went still.
“What are you saying?”
I whispered:
“They're my family.”
Silence.
Vincent stared at me.
Dom looked back at the documents.
Then the archive lights turned red.
A warning began flashing.
UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS.
REMOTE CONNECTION ESTABLISHED.
Someone was inside the system.
Dom reached for the keyboard.
A message appeared on the screen.
HELLO, NEMA.
Then another.
YOU'VE FINALLY FOUND YOUR REAL NAME.
My heart stopped.
A final message appeared.
NOW ASK YOURSELF WHY YOUR GRANDFATHER LIED ABOUT WHO YOU WERE.
The screen went black.
And for the first time in my life, the name I had carried proudly—
Reyes—
felt like a disguise.
A disguise my entire family had worn for generations.
And somewhere outside that hidden house, someone knew the truth.
Someone who had been waiting for me to discover it.
Someone who knew exactly what the Caldwell bloodline meant.
And if the message was true, then the man my grandfather had spent his life teaching me to fear...
May you like
might not have been my enemy at all.
He might have been my father.
