Chapter 10: The Daughter They Wanted
The photograph was only on my phone for three seconds.
Three seconds.
That was all it took for my entire body to understand something my mind refused to accept.
Lily was not safe.
I didn’t remember moving.
One moment I was standing inside the storage unit holding my mother’s letter.
The next, I was running toward the car.
“Marcus!””
Agent Morgan shouted behind me.
I didn’t stop.
“My daughter.””
The words barely came out.
“My daughter is gone.””
My father caught up to me.
“Marcus, listen.””
I turned on him.
“No.””
My voice cracked.
“No more secrets.””
He froze.
“If you know something, you tell me now.””
The rain poured down around us.
For the first time in years, Richard Reed looked like what he really was.
A father who was terrified.
“There is a place.””
My heart stopped.
“What place?””
He looked at Vanessa.
She was standing several feet away.
Crying.
Because she knew.
“Where?””
My father swallowed.
“The original foundation house.””
Agent Morgan stepped closer.
“Where is it?””
Nobody answered.
That scared me.
“Where?””
Vanessa finally spoke.
“It was never on any records.””
I looked at her.
“Vanessa.””
She wiped her face.
“It was built before Bright Future existed.””
“For what?””
Her voice became quiet.
“For children.””
I felt sick.
“Children like Noah?””
She nodded.
“Noah was not the first.””
The world seemed to tilt.
“How many?””
Vanessa looked away.
“We don’t know.””
Agent Morgan immediately called her team.
“We need every available unit.””
My father grabbed my arm.
“Marcus.””
I pulled away.
“What?””
“When we get there, you cannot act emotionally.””
I stared at him.
“My six-year-old daughter has been taken.””
“I know.””
“No, you don’t.””
My voice broke.
“You lost me once. I’m not losing her.””
Something changed in his face.
Pain.
Regret.
Then he nodded.
“You’re right.””
The original foundation house was three hours outside the city.
An abandoned property hidden behind acres of forest.
No signs.
No roads marked.
Nothing.
Exactly how someone would hide something.
When we arrived, the building looked abandoned.
Broken windows.
Overgrown grass.
A rusted gate hanging open.
But my father noticed something.
“What?””
He pointed.
“The lock.””
Agent Morgan looked.
A new lock.
On an old gate.
Someone had been here recently.
We moved in carefully.
Every step felt wrong.
Like the house was waiting.
The front door opened easily.
Inside was a hallway.
Old photographs covered the walls.
Children.
Families.
Events.
Charity ceremonies.
The same smiling faces from Bright Future.
Except these pictures were older.
Much older.
Vanessa touched one.
“This was the first building.””
Agent Morgan looked at her.
“You were here?””
Vanessa nodded.
“When I was seventeen.””
I turned.
“You knew about this place?””
“I knew it existed.””
“And you never told me?””
She looked ashamed.
“I thought I could bury it.””
A noise came from upstairs.
Everyone froze.
A child’s voice.
Small.
Weak.
“Daddy?””
My heart stopped.
“Lily.””
I ran.
“Marcus!””
Agent Morgan shouted.
But I couldn’t stop.
I reached the second floor.
A hallway stretched ahead.
At the end was a room.
The door was slightly open.
“Lily?””
No answer.
I pushed it open.
Empty.
Only a chair.
A blanket.
And a recording device.
My blood went cold.
I picked it up.
A button.
I pressed it.
My daughter’s voice filled the room.
“Daddy?””
I nearly collapsed.
But then another voice followed.
An older woman.
My mother.
“Lily, tell me what your father taught you.””
Silence.
Then Lily:
“He taught me that people deserve help.””
My eyes filled with tears.
My mother laughed softly.
“That is exactly why he was chosen.””
Chosen?
The recording continued.
“You have your grandfather’s kindness.””
A pause.
“And your father’s weakness.””
I clenched my fist.
Then my mother said something that froze me.
“Tell Marcus the truth when he comes.””
A click.
The recording ended.
I turned around.
“Where is she?””
Nobody answered.
Then Agent Morgan’s radio came alive.
Static.
A voice.
A man.
“Marcus Reed.””
Everyone stopped.
Adrian.
“Your family has always been dramatic.””
I grabbed the radio.
“Where is my daughter?””
A laugh.
“Safe.””
“Bring her back.””
“You still don’t understand.””
My hands shook.
“You took my child.””
“No.””
His voice became colder.
“I saved her.””
I looked around.
“From what?””
A pause.
Then:
“From becoming like you.””
The radio went silent.
And on the floor beneath the recording device was a note.
One sentence.
May you like
Written in my mother’s handwriting.
*The final choice belongs to Marcus.*
