Chapter 8: The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
I couldn't make my hands stop shaking.
The document rested on my lap.
The name at the top was the same name printed on the death certificate I had seen countless times as a teenager.
*Daniel Miller.*
My father.
Dead seventeen years.
Yet the bank record in front of me showed money transferred to him three days ago.
I read the line again.
Then again.
The numbers changed nothing.
The name remained.
Vanessa watched me from the passenger seat.
“Grace.””
I looked at her.
“Tell me this is fake.””
She didn't.
“Tell me.””
“I can't.””
I laughed once.
It wasn't funny.
“You're telling me my dead father is alive?””
“No.””
“Then what are you telling me?””
“That someone is using his identity.””
“Who?””
“I don't know.””
“Someone transferred money to a dead man three days ago.””
“Yes.””
“And you think that's normal?””
“No.””
I slammed the document against the steering wheel.
“Then what is it?””
Vanessa reached for my arm.
I pulled away.
“Don't.””
She withdrew her hand.
For several seconds, the only sound was rain.
Then I looked at the timestamp on the bank record.
Three days ago.
Three days before Zoe's birthday party.
Three days before someone started moving pieces around me.
“Why would anyone use my father's name?””
Vanessa stared at the windshield.
“Because his name still opens doors.””
“What doors?””
“The kind Marcus couldn't open.””
I frowned.
“You keep talking like there are people behind this who are more powerful than him.””
“There are.””
“Who?””
Vanessa shook her head.
“You aren't ready.””
“I've been ready for four years without knowing it.””
That silenced her.
I started the car.
“Take me to the warehouse.””
Her eyes widened.
“No.””
“Give me the address.””
“No.””
“Vanessa.””
“You're angry.””
“Yes.””
“You're scared.””
“Yes.””
“And that's exactly what whoever sent the message wants.””
I looked at her.
“Then what do you suggest?””
“Find Nathan.””
“I don't know where he is.””
“I do.””
She pulled out her phone.
“I'll call him.””
“No.””
She looked up.
“Why?””
“Because if someone is monitoring us, you calling Nathan tells them we're together.””
Her expression changed.
“You're learning.””
“Four years late.””
She looked away.
I pulled the car onto the road.
“Where?””
“There's an old storage facility on Mercer Street.””
“That's not the warehouse.””
“No.””
“Then what is it?””
“The place Nathan used after his father's death.””
“Why?””
“To store evidence.””
I drove faster.
“Does he know what happened to my father?””
“Maybe.””
“Maybe?””
“He knows more than he told you.””
I tightened my grip on the wheel.
“Then today he's going to tell me everything.””
The storage facility stood behind a row of abandoned factories.
The gate was open.
That was the first thing I noticed.
The second was the security camera above the entrance.
It was pointed directly at us.
I parked.
Vanessa didn't move.
“You're not coming?””
She stared at the buildings.
“I don't like this.””
“Neither do I.””
“I should stay in the car.””
“No.””
“Grace—”
“You know more than I do.””
She sighed.
“Fine.””
We walked inside.
The hallway smelled of dust and machine oil.
At the end was Unit 37.
The lock had already been cut.
I looked at Vanessa.
“This isn't good.””
“No.””
I pushed the door open.
Boxes covered the floor.
Files.
Old computers.
Photographs.
Newspapers.
Nathan was nowhere.
“Hello?””
No answer.
Vanessa stepped inside.
“Richard used to keep everything here.””
“Richard?””
“Nathan's father.””
I looked around.
“Find something.””
We searched.
I opened a metal cabinet.
Inside were newspaper clippings about the Ellison investigation.
One headline caught my eye.
*CORPORATE WHISTLEBLOWER VANISHES AFTER ACCUSING ELLISON HOLDINGS*
I pulled the article free.
The photograph showed an older man.
Richard Cole.
My heart skipped.
I knew him.
Not consciously.
But something inside me reacted.
I touched the photograph.
A memory flashed.
A conference room.
Richard across from me.
He was saying, “Don't trust the board.””
I dropped the clipping.
Vanessa caught it.
“You remember him?””
“Not fully.””
“But you know him.””
“Yes.””
She looked worried.
I searched through another box.
There was a folder marked:
*G-17 / ORIGINAL INVESTIGATION*
I opened it.
The first page was a transcript.
My voice.
Richard's voice.
Date: six years earlier.
*GRACE:* “What happens if they discover the transfer records?””
*RICHARD:* “They'll come after you.””
*GRACE:* “Then let them.””
*RICHARD:* “You don't understand. They aren't afraid of prison.””
*GRACE:* “Then what are they afraid of?””
*RICHARD:* “Being exposed.””
I turned the page.
A note was handwritten across the top.
*Meeting terminated at 11:45 p.m. Subject fled with evidence.*
The next page was missing.
I looked at Vanessa.
“Where's the rest?””
She shook her head.
“I don't know.””
A metallic sound came from outside.
We both froze.
Someone was walking down the corridor.
Slowly.
Footstep.
Pause.
Footstep.
Vanessa whispered, “Turn off the lights.””
I did.
We crouched behind the cabinet.
The door opened.
A man's silhouette appeared.
He stepped inside.
For several seconds, he stood still.
Then he said,
“Grace.””
My blood turned cold.
It was Marcus.
I almost stood.
Vanessa grabbed my wrist.
He continued.
“I know you're here.””
I looked at Vanessa.
She silently shook her head.
Marcus stepped farther into the room.
“Grace, I'm not here to hurt you.””
I almost laughed.
After everything tonight, that sentence sounded absurd.
“You need to leave,” Marcus said.
I stayed silent.
“You found the files.””
Silence.
“You found the clinic.””
My breathing stopped.
“You found out about the accident.””
Vanessa closed her eyes.
Marcus continued.
“I've been trying to keep you safe.””
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I stepped out.
“You call this safe?””
Marcus froze.
His face changed when he saw me.
“Grace.””
“You lied to me.””
He stared at me.
“Where is Zoe?””
“At the hospital?””
“Yes.””
“She’s safe.””
“You left me.””
“I had to.””
“You left me in a locked office while Vanessa disappeared.””
“I didn't know what she was going to do.””
I looked at Vanessa.
Then at Marcus.
“Did you know who she was?””
He nodded.
“She told me years ago.””
“She is Zoe's mother.””
“Yes.””
I swallowed.
“Is that true?””
“Yes.””
Vanessa stepped forward.
“So tell her everything.””
Marcus looked at her.
“You don't understand what you're asking.””
“I understand perfectly.””
“You almost got Zoe killed.””
Vanessa flinched.
“I knew the medicine would be found.””
“You gambled with her life.””
“And you gambled with Grace's.””
Silence.
Marcus looked at me.
“I never wanted any of this.””
“You erased my memory.””
“No.””
“You put me under a medical protocol.””
“I was trying to protect you.””
“You erased my life!””
“No.””
His voice broke.
“You were dying.””
I stopped.
“What?””
Marcus took a shaky breath.
“After the crash, your brain was swelling. You had internal bleeding. The doctors said you might not survive.””
“Then why did the records say memory suppression?””
“Because someone else ordered it.””
“Who?””
Marcus looked toward Vanessa.
She whispered, “Daniel.””
Marcus nodded.
“Your father.””
My chest tightened.
“My father was alive?””
“Back then.””
“Where is he now?””
Marcus looked at me.
“I don't know.””
“Did you kill him?””
“No.””
“Then why is money being sent to him?””
“I don't know.””
I stepped closer.
“You expect me to believe that?””
Marcus pulled a photograph from his jacket.
He handed it to me.
I looked down.
The photograph showed my father.
Older.
Much older.
He was standing outside a private medical facility.
The date was six months after my supposed death certificate.
I stared.
“He survived.””
“Yes.””
“He changed his identity.””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
Marcus looked away.
“Because he was one of the architects of Project Zoe.””
My stomach twisted.
“He created it?””
“He funded it.””
I looked at Vanessa.
She nodded.
“Daniel wanted to prove the treatment worked.””
“And Zoe?””
“She was one of the children who received it.””
I stared at the ground.
“Why would my father use his own granddaughter?””
Vanessa answered softly.
“Because he didn't believe there was anything to fear.””
A tear slipped down my cheek.
“What happened to him?””
Marcus said, “He disappeared after the investigation began.””
“Did you find him?””
“No.””
“Then how did he send money?””
Marcus looked at the bank statement in my hand.
“That isn't money your father sent.””
I frowned.
“What?””
“The account sent the money to him.””
“Who owns the account?””
Marcus hesitated.
Then he said,
“You.””
I felt dizzy.
“What?””
“You have another account.””
“No.””
“You do.””
“I've never opened one.””
“Someone opened it six years ago.””
My phone buzzed.
A notification appeared.
*Incoming transfer received.*
I opened it.
$50,000.
Sender:
*D. Miller*
I looked at Marcus.
“That's my father.””
He stepped closer.
“Don't touch it.””
“Why?””
“Because the second you accept that money, they know you found the account.””
My phone buzzed again.
Another notification.
*Account access detected.*
Then a message appeared.
*Welcome back, G-17.*
I couldn't breathe.
Vanessa stared at the screen.
Marcus stepped backward.
“What?””
I showed him.
His face went completely white.
“What is it?””
“I don't know.””
Marcus reached for the phone.
“Don't.””
He stopped.
Then another message arrived.
*Phase Two has begun.*
A location appeared beneath it.
Not the warehouse.
Not the hospital.
Not the Ellison estate.
It was an address I'd never seen before.
But beside the address was a name.
*Miller Family Residence.*
I stared at it.
“That can't exist.””
Marcus's voice dropped.
“Grace…”
I looked at him.
He swallowed.
“That was your childhood home.””
“I know.””
“No.””
He shook his head.
“You were told it burned down.””
I stared.
“What?””
Marcus looked toward the door.
“It didn't.””
Behind us, something crashed.
We spun around.
The storage room window had shattered.
A dark figure ran past the opening.
Vanessa shouted.
“Get down!””
Marcus grabbed my arm.
“Move!””
We ran toward the back exit.
As we reached the door, my phone buzzed one final time.
A photograph appeared.
It showed an old house.
My childhood home.
And standing on the porch was a man with gray hair.
A man who should have been dead seventeen years.
My father.
May you like
Under the photograph were four words:
*Come home, Grace. Alone.*
