Chapter 22: The Man I Called Father

Ava couldn’t breathe.

The world around her seemed to fade into silence.

All she could hear was the stranger’s voice.

“I raised you.”

Not I’m your father.

Not I love you.

Not I’m sorry.

Just those three devastating words.

I raised you.

The tears streaming down her face felt hot against her skin.

“No…”

The stranger standing before her lowered his eyes.

“Ava—”

“No!”

Her scream echoed through the empty street.

Everyone froze.

Even Richard.

Even Ethan.

For the first time, nobody seemed to know what to say.

Ava looked at the man she had spent her entire life calling Dad.

The man who taught her how to ride a bicycle.

The man who waited outside her classroom every afternoon.

The man who carried her when she fell asleep during family gatherings.

The man who held her hand at her mother’s funeral.

Or at least the funeral she now knew had been a lie.

Every memory suddenly felt poisoned.

Every memory felt uncertain.

Every memory felt stolen.

“Who are you?”

The man’s eyes filled with regret.

“My name is Daniel Brooks.”

“That’s my father’s name.”

“No.”

His voice cracked.

“That was his name.”

Ava felt her knees weaken.

Ethan immediately stepped closer in case she fell.

She barely noticed.

Her entire world had narrowed to one terrifying question.

“What happened to him?”

Nobody answered.

She looked at Elena.

Her mother.

The woman she had mourned for fifteen years.

The woman who had suddenly reappeared.

“You knew?”

Elena’s face crumbled.

“Ava…”

“You knew?”

Tears slid down Elena’s cheeks.

“Yes.”

The confession hit harder than a slap.

Ava staggered backward.

“You knew the man raising me wasn’t my father?”

Elena nodded.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

The words ignited something inside Ava.

“Stop saying that!”

Everyone fell silent.

For years.

For years everyone had apparently been making choices for her.

Hiding things.

Lying.

Manipulating.

Disappearing.

Returning.

And every single time they used the same excuse.

I had no choice.

Ava laughed bitterly.

“You all sound exactly the same.”

Nobody argued.

Because they knew she was right.

The stranger finally spoke.

“The real Daniel Brooks died twenty years ago.”

Ava’s stomach twisted.

Twenty years.

That meant she had been a child.

A little girl.

A little girl who never even realized her father was gone.

“How?”

The question barely escaped her lips.

The stranger looked away.

But Richard answered.

“The Founder.”

Everyone turned.

Richard’s face had become unusually serious.

“He discovered something he wasn’t supposed to know.”

Ava stared at him.

“What?”

Richard shook his head.

“I don’t know.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“No.”

Richard’s smile was humorless.

“But it’s the truth.”

Ethan frowned.

“What did Daniel discover?”

Richard looked toward the darkness.

For the first time, he seemed genuinely uncertain.

“Something that frightened even the Founder.”

A chill ran through Ava.

Something capable of frightening the most powerful person in the network?

What could possibly be that dangerous?

The stranger sighed heavily.

“Your father worked with us.”

Ava looked at him.

“Us?”

“The early network.”

“The Black Ledger?”

“It didn’t have a name back then.”

Ava listened carefully.

“Your father handled records.”

“Financial records?”

“Everything.”

The stranger swallowed.

“He began noticing transactions that shouldn’t have existed.”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed.

“Hidden accounts.”

The stranger nodded.

“Money moving between people who officially didn’t know each other.”

Richard’s jaw tightened.

“He started asking questions.”

“And that got him killed?”

The stranger nodded slowly.

“Yes.”

Ava felt sick.

Her real father had died because he wanted answers.

Because he wanted the truth.

And now she was standing exactly where he once stood.

Asking exactly the same questions.

Following exactly the same trail.

Suddenly she understood why Ethan had been so desperate to protect her.

Why Elena disappeared.

Why Lucas had nearly been killed.

Why everyone feared the Founder.

The Founder didn’t silence people.

The Founder erased them.

A phone rang.

Everyone jumped.

Ethan pulled out his phone.

Unknown number.

The same unknown number that had haunted them for months.

Nobody needed to ask who it was.

Ethan answered.

Silence greeted him.

Then a calm voice spoke.

“Good evening.”

Ava immediately felt cold.

The Founder.

Finally.

The ghost they had been chasing.

The monster hiding behind every tragedy.

“Who are you?” Ethan demanded.

The voice laughed softly.

“Still asking the wrong question.”

Richard looked furious.

“You’ve hidden long enough.”

“Have I?”

The amusement in the voice made Ava’s skin crawl.

“Look at yourselves.”

Silence.

“Twenty years.”

The voice chuckled.

“Twenty years and you’re still chasing shadows.”

Ethan tightened his grip on the phone.

“What do you want?”

A pause followed.

Then the voice answered.

“Ava.”

Everyone looked at her.

Her heart skipped.

“What?”

The voice sounded almost pleased.

“I’ve been waiting a very long time to meet you.”

Ava felt fear crawl down her spine.

Why her?

Why was everyone obsessed with her?

The keys.

The ledger.

Her mother.

Her father.

Everything somehow led back to her.

“Why me?”

For several seconds, only silence answered.

Then the voice spoke again.

“Because your father left something behind.”

Ava froze.

“What?”

“He trusted the wrong person.”

The line crackled.

Then the voice lowered.

“And now you’ve inherited his mistake.”

The call ended.

No warning.

No explanation.

Just silence.

Everyone stood frozen.

Nobody spoke.

Then Ethan’s phone vibrated.

A message.

He opened it.

His face immediately lost all color.

Ava’s stomach dropped.

“What is it?”

Ethan slowly turned the screen toward her.

A photograph.

Taken less than ten minutes ago.

Ava stared at it.

Her blood ran cold.

The picture showed all of them.

Standing exactly where they were now.

Which meant only one thing.

The Founder wasn’t watching from somewhere far away.

The Founder was close.

Very close.

Close enough to take the photograph.

Close enough to hear everything.

Close enough to strike.

And at the bottom of the photograph, a single sentence had been written.

One of you already belongs to me.