Chapter 14 - Eighteen Months Later, the Lights Went Out Again
Matteo served fourteen months.
Good behavior.
Cooperation.
No special treatment that I could prove.
I visited him six times.
Not every week.
Not performatively.
We wrote letters.
Actual letters.
His handwriting was terrible.
I told him.
He claimed future historians would appreciate authenticity.
I told him future historians had standards.
My company grew.
Blake Electrical became Blake Infrastructure & Safety.
Not glamorous.
Very profitable.
After Lantern, companies suddenly became interested in independent audits of hidden power and surveillance systems.
Funny how that worked.
My mother joined as a consultant.
Our relationship improved slowly.
She rented an apartment five blocks away.
Important distinction:
five blocks.
Not my guest room.
Boundaries were beautiful.
Grant started a legitimate security consultancy.
Celeste testified and received probation for her cooperation.
Vincent received decades.
Salvatore retired for real.
Nobody believed him.
Including me.
Mercer's case remained on appeal.
Lantern was functionally dismantled.
Not erased from history.
Nothing ever was.
But nobody held a master key anymore.
That was victory enough.
The day Matteo was released, I did not wait outside the prison.
He expected me to.
I sent Grant.
Cruel?
Slightly.
I was at work.
Because Matteo needed to enter my life, not become the center of it.
He arrived at my office four hours later.
Dark jeans.
White shirt.
No suit.
No security.
He looked younger.
“Hello.”
I looked up from an invoice.
“You're late.”
“I was incarcerated.”
“Excuses.”
He smiled.
God, I had missed that.
He walked closer.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
So he did.
No fireworks.
No orchestra.
Perfect.
Six months later, we attended the reopening gala at the Halcyon Grand.
The same ballroom.
Different ownership structure.
New security.
My company had rewired the entire building.
I personally inspected every circuit.
Twice.
Three hundred guests returned.
Some recognized me.
This time nobody looked at my work shirt with contempt.
Mostly because I wore a black evening dress.
But also because half the guests had hired me.
Matteo stood beside me.
No longer the most feared man in the room.
He said he preferred it.
I believed him.
My mother attended.
Grant too.
Even Salvatore appeared briefly, which created several nervous exits.
The orchestra began.
Crystal chandeliers glowed.
I looked toward the west wall.
Where the first cameras had been found.
Matteo noticed.
“Thinking about the blackout?”
“Yes.”
“Romantic beginning.”
“You accused me of destroying your gala.”
“I did not.”
“Your face did.”
“My face is frequently misunderstood.”
“Your face threatened three hundred people.”
“Efficient.”
We danced.
Badly.
Matteo had somehow never learned.
Then the chandeliers went out.
Darkness.
Three hundred people gasped.
My body reacted before thought.
Heart racing.
Old fear.
Matteo's hand tightened around mine.
“Erin?”
Emergency lights came on.
I looked toward the electrical panel.
A technician stood there.
Panicked.
“It wasn't me!”
The entire ballroom burst into nervous laughter.
I did too.
Then I noticed something.
One tiny blue light.
Behind the western wall.
Impossible.
We removed every unauthorized device.
I stopped smiling.
Matteo saw.
“What?”
I pointed.
He followed my gaze.
The blue LED blinked once.
Then twice.
I crossed the ballroom.
Guests quieted.
I removed the panel with a screwdriver from the technician's kit.
Behind it sat a small black box.
New.
Matteo's face hardened.
“Lantern?”
“No.”
I examined it.
Simple.
Battery powered.
No camera.
No microphone.
A digital timer.
00:30.
00:29.
Guests began murmuring.
Matteo moved toward me.
“Bomb?”
“No.”
“Then?”
The timer reached zero.
The box played a recording.
My father's—Mercer's—voice.
“Happy anniversary, Erin.”
My blood chilled.
Then:
“If you're hearing this, I'm no longer in federal custody.”
Matteo looked at Grant.
Grant immediately called.
The recording continued:
“But don't worry.”
A pause.
“I didn't come back for Lantern.”
Another pause.
“I came back for my daughter.”
The ballroom doors slammed shut.
I stared at Matteo.
Guests screamed.
Then—
the chandeliers came back on.
Standing beneath them near the entrance was Daniel Mercer.
No weapon visible.
No guards.
Just my biological father.
Federal fugitive.
Smiling.
Matteo stepped between us.
Mercer raised both hands.
“I only want to talk.”
I looked around.
Three hundred witnesses.
Security everywhere.
My building.
My wiring.
My rules.
For the first time, I wasn't afraid.
I stepped around Matteo.
“No.”
Mercer's smile faded.
I pulled out my phone.
“You broke into a building I wired.”
He frowned.
“So?”
I tapped one icon.
Every security shutter dropped around him, isolating the entrance.
Checkmate.
“I know every circuit now.”
Police sirens approached outside.
Mercer stared at me through the glass.
May you like
I smiled.
“Should've hired an electrician.”
