Chapter Thirty-Five: The Protection

I read the letter three times.

My father. Richard Voss. The source. The man who fed my mother information. The man who helped her build a case against Henry Ashford.

The man who was supposed to protect her.

I set the letter down. My hands were steady. My heart was beating normally.

Daniel was watching me. His face was pale.

"You didn't know," he said.

"No."

"I didn't either. I swear."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"Victor knew," I said. "He knew all along."

"He was trying to protect us."

"By lying?"

"By waiting. Until we were ready."

I didn't respond. I didn't know how.

Adrian walked in. He'd been securing the perimeter with Sloane. He saw our faces. He stopped.

"What happened?"

I handed him the letter. He read it. His jaw tightened.

"Your father," he said.

"Yes."

"He was the source."

"Yes."

He set the letter down. He looked at me.

"This changes things."

"How?"

"Your father is still alive. Or he was. If he was the source, he might still have information. He might still be able to help."

"He abandoned us," Daniel said. "He left after Mom died. He didn't even come to the funeral."

Adrian looked at him. "That doesn't mean he's not useful."

Daniel's face flushed. "Useful? He's a coward. He ran. He left us with Cecilia. He left us with Mira."

"I'm not defending him. I'm saying he might have answers."

I stood. I walked to the window. The trees were dark. The sky was gray.

"I don't want his answers," I said.

"Elena—"

"I don't want his help. I don't want his apologies. I don't want anything from him."

Adrian was quiet. Then he said, "What do you want?"

I turned. I looked at him. I looked at Daniel.

"I want to finish what my mother started. With or without him."

---

We drove back to the city that night.

No one spoke. Daniel stared out the window. Adrian watched the road. Sloane drove. I sat in the back and thought about my father.

I remembered him. Tall. Quiet. He used to read to me at night. He used to take me to the park on weekends. He used to laugh.

And then my mother died. And he disappeared.

I'd spent years wondering why. I'd spent years blaming myself. I'd spent years thinking he didn't love me enough to stay.

Now I knew.

He was the source. He helped my mother build the case. He was there when she died.

And then he ran.

I didn't know if I could forgive him. I didn't know if I wanted to.

But I knew one thing. I wasn't going to let his choices define mine.

---

The next morning, I found Daniel in the kitchen.

He was sitting at the island. He had a cup of coffee in front of him. He wasn't drinking it.

"You okay?" I asked.

He looked up. He looked tired.

"No."

I sat across from him.

"I keep thinking about him," he said. "Dad. The way he left. The way he didn't even say goodbye."

I didn't respond. I just waited.

"I was twelve. I didn't understand. I thought it was my fault. I thought I did something wrong."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I know. But I still thought it."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"We're not going to let him ruin this," I said. "We're not going to let him take anything else from us."

Daniel nodded. He didn't look convinced. But he nodded.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

"We find Victor. We get the evidence. We take down Henry. And then we figure out the rest."

"And Dad?"

I was quiet for a moment. Then I said, "He's not part of the plan. Not unless he wants to be."

Daniel looked at me. He looked at me the way he used to when we were children. Like I was someone he could trust.

"Okay," he said.

I stood. I walked to the door.

"Elena."

I stopped.

"Thank you. For not giving up."

I turned. I looked at him.

"I'm not giving up," I said. "I'm just getting started."

---

That night, Adrian found me on the balcony.

I was standing at the railing. The air was cold. I didn't care.

"You should be inside," he said.

"I'm fine."

"You're freezing."

"I'm fine."

He didn't argue. He just stood beside me.

"I've been thinking about my father," I said.

"I know."

"I don't know if I can forgive him."

"You don't have to."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"He abandoned us. He left us with Cecilia. He didn't even come to the funeral."

"I know."

"And now I find out he was the source. He helped my mother. He was there when she died. And then he ran."

Adrian didn't respond. He just waited.

"I don't know what to feel," I said. "I don't know if I should be angry. Or sad. Or nothing."

"You don't have to feel anything. Not yet."

I looked at him. He looked at me.

"When did you stop feeling?" I asked.

"I didn't. I just learned to live with it."

I considered that. "That sounds exhausting."

"It is."

We stood there. The city hummed outside. The wind picked up.

"He's not going to ruin this," I said. "He's not going to take anything else from me."

Adrian reached for my hand. He took it. His fingers were warm. Steady.

"He won't," he said. "Because I won't let him."

I looked at our hands. I looked at him.

"Okay," I said.

We stood there. The city hummed. The wind blew.

After a while, I leaned my head against his shoulder. He didn't move. He just let me.

We stayed there until the sun came up.