Chapter 21 - The Name He Buried
“Ask your father who your real father is.”
The words stayed on the screen.
I read them once.
Then again.
My father didn't move.
Neither did Mercer.
Torres had gone completely still beside the open stairwell.
The alarm continued screaming somewhere above us, but inside that circular room, the sound felt far away.
I turned toward my father.
“Who is my real father?”
He looked at me.
“Mara—”
“No.”
My voice came out colder than I expected.
“You don't get to say my name like that and buy yourself more time.”
“I wasn't going to.”
“Then answer me.”
He pushed himself upright, one hand pressed against his bleeding shoulder.
Torres stepped forward.
“You need to sit down.”
“I need her to hear the truth.”
“Then tell it.”
My father looked at the computer.
The words SUCCESSOR IDENTIFIED were still glowing above the blinking line.
SECOND SUBJECT AWAKENED.
Then he looked back at me.
“Your birth certificate is false.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“It isn't your original certificate.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
“I know.”
“Who is my father?”
He closed his eyes.
For several seconds, I thought he might refuse again.
Then he said, “Victor Sloane.”
Everything inside me stopped.
Torres stared at him.
Mercer whispered, “Jesus.”
I didn't blink.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Mara—”
“You're lying.”
“I wish I were.”
I stepped backward.
The back of my legs hit the steel desk.
“You said he was obsessed with Northstar.”
“He is.”
“You said he wanted legal authority.”
“He does.”
“You said he was hunting me.”
“He is.”
“Why?”
My father swallowed.
“Because he believes you belong to him.”
The room felt suddenly too small.
I stared at the man who had raised me.
“You're telling me Victor Sloane is my biological father.”
“Yes.”
“And you knew.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Since before you were born.”
I laughed.
It was an ugly sound.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“I wish I could make this easier.”
“You had twenty-three years.”
“I know.”
“You had twenty-three years to tell me.”
“I couldn't.”
“You wouldn't.”
He didn't argue.
That made it worse.
My eyes burned.
“Did my mother know?”
“Yes.”
“Did she know Sloane was watching me?”
“Yes.”
“Did she know you were watching me?”
“Yes.”
“And everyone just decided I was the only person who didn't deserve the truth?”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“That is exactly what happened.”
My father lowered his eyes.
“You were safer without knowing.”
“Safer?”
I pointed at the blood soaking through his shirt.
“You've been shot.”
He said nothing.
“My mother disappeared.”
Silence.
“Sloane manipulated my career.”
Silence.
“They used my identity.”
Silence.
“I was dragged into a federal investigation.”
Silence.
“They put a weapon in my mother's hands and nearly got her killed.”
His jaw tightened.
“And you call that safe?”
“I call it alive.”
I slapped the desk.
“Don't.”
My father flinched.
Not from the impact.
From me.
That hurt more than I expected.
Torres stepped between us.
“Mara.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Stay out of this.”
“I will.”
He paused.
“But you're bleeding too.”
I looked down.
My palm was cut where I'd been gripping the key.
Blood ran between my fingers.
I hadn't even felt it.
Mercer crouched near the computer.
“There's something else.”
I turned.
“What?”
He pointed toward the bottom corner of the screen.
“There.”
A small line had appeared beneath the authorization prompt.
BIOLOGICAL AUTHORITY: VERIFIED.
I stared at it.
“Verified by whom?”
Mercer shook his head.
“That's the problem.”
“What problem?”
“It isn't verifying your identity.”
He looked up at me.
“It's verifying your bloodline.”
My father cursed under his breath.
I turned toward him.
“You knew about this.”
“Yes.”
“How does it know?”
“It was designed that way.”
“By Sloane?”
“By both of us.”
The silence that followed was brutal.
“Both of you?”
My father nodded.
“Northstar wasn't created by one man.”
I stared.
“It was created by a group.”
“Sloane was one of them.”
“And you were another.”
“Yes.”
I backed away from him.
“You helped build it.”
“I helped build its protective structure.”
“That sounds like the same thing.”
“It isn't.”
“It is to me.”
He didn't defend himself.
I looked at the two Silver Stars on the desk.
“You told me the stars were proof.”
“They are.”
“Proof of what?”
“That you were given authority without knowing you had it.”
I frowned.
He gestured toward them.
“Those aren't merely decorations.”
Mercer moved closer.
“What are they?”
My father said, “The originals carry embedded serial identifiers tied to Northstar's first authorization ledger.”
Torres stared.
“You mean the actual stars?”
“Yes.”
I picked one up.
It looked exactly as it always had.
Metal.
Scratched edges.
A lifetime of stories attached to two pieces of silver.
“What happens if I use them?”
My father looked at me.
“They can prove the chain of authority.”
“To Sloane?”
“To everyone.”
I stared at him.
“What chain?”
“The one that proves the authority never belonged to him.”
A noise sounded above us.
Footsteps.
Several.
Mercer reached for his weapon.
Torres drew his.
My father pushed himself away from the table.
“Not yet.”
The footsteps stopped.
A voice came through the stairwell.
“Mara.”
I froze.
Victor Sloane.
His voice carried easily through the concrete.
“You've finally asked the right question.”
Mercer moved in front of me.
My father raised his gun.
Sloane laughed softly from above.
“Still protecting her?”
My father said nothing.
Sloane continued.
“You should have told her years ago.”
My heart pounded.
“How are you here?”
A pause.
“I've been everywhere.”
“You're not coming down here.”
“I'm not.”
“Then what do you want?”
Sloane's voice softened.
“Her.”
I stepped around Mercer.
“Sloane.”
My father grabbed my arm.
“Don't.”
I pulled away.
“I need answers.”
“No.”
“You owe me.”
He looked at me.
“That man will use every answer against you.”
Sloane laughed again.
“That's rich.”
Then came three slow footsteps.
A shadow passed over the stairwell opening.
“Mara,” Sloane said, “your father has spent half his life teaching you not to trust me.”
My father replied, “Because I know you.”
“No.”
Sloane's voice changed.
“Because you know what I know about her mother.”
My father went rigid.
I noticed.
“You know something else.”
No answer.
“Sloane.”
Silence.
Then he said, “Ask your mother why she gave you to him.”
My blood ran cold.
“What does that mean?”
“You'll have to ask her.”
“Sloane!”
But his footsteps were already moving away.
Mercer ran up the stairs.
Two shots cracked through the corridor.
Then silence.
He came back thirty seconds later.
“He's gone.”
I looked at my father.
“What did he mean?”
My father's face was pale.
“Nothing.”
“You're lying.”
“Yes.”
At least he admitted it.
I took the Silver Stars.
Then I picked up the key.
“What is the second archive?”
His expression changed.
“The place where your mother has gone.”
“Where?”
He hesitated.
Then he said, “St. Jude's.”
I frowned.
“That's a hospital.”
“It was.”
“What does that mean?”
He looked toward the dark passage behind the computer.
“Twenty-three years ago, your mother gave birth there.”
I stopped breathing.
“To you?”
He shook his head.
“To the child they took from her.”
Mercer returned to the room.
“Then we're going.”
My father looked at him.
“No.”
Mercer didn't blink.
“Yes.”
Torres nodded.
“We're already too deep.”
I looked at my father.
For the first time, I understood that the truth wasn't waiting somewhere ahead of me.
May you like
It was buried behind every lie they had ever told me.
And I had just started digging.
