Chapter 8 - THE REUNION THAT WAS NEVER MEANT TO BE
"Mom?" I gasped, stepping frantically toward the laptop screen as if I could physically pull her through the glass.
The woman on the screen blinked against the harsh glare of the recording light, her lips parting as she stared directly into the camera lens—not at the computer, but at us.
"Lena..." her voice was raspy, worn down by years of isolation, yet filled with an unbearable, piercing warmth. "If you’re seeing this file, it means Adrien kept his promise. He kept you alive long enough to find the truth."
I looked up at Adrien. His face was entirely colorless, his lips pressed into a thin, white line.
"She's alive," I whispered, tears blurring my vision completely. "After all these years... she’s alive."
"Robert Blake didn't just steal the syndicate ledgers," my mother continued on the recording, leaning closer to the lens. "He framed Carlo Viscari for embezzルフed funds that he routed directly into offshore accounts controlled by the federal judiciary. But that’s not why I had to run, Lena. I ran because Robert found out I was pregnant. He told me if I didn't fake my death and give you to Thomas to raise in total obscurity, he would murder you in the delivery room."
The ground beneath my feet felt like it was disappearing. I grabbed Adrien’s arm to steady myself, my fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket.
"And Adrien..." my mother’s voice cracked slightly as she looked directly at the camera with an expression of profound sorrow. "I am so sorry I let you take the blame for my disappearance all those years ago. Your father thought you helped me steal his personal ledger. But you were just a seventeen-year-old kid showing mercy to a stranger. Don't let his ghost destroy what you’ve built."
The video cut abruptly to black.
A set of geographic coordinates flashed in glowing green text across the screen: 41.3851° N, 73.1859° W.
"Where is that?" I asked immediately, wiping the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand.
"An abandoned lighthouse off the coast of Montauk," Adrien said, his voice low, steady, and vibrating with suppressed fury. "Property owned by the Meridian Mutual holding company—controlled entirely by Robert Blake."
"Then what are we waiting for?" I demanded, turning toward the vault exit. "Let’s go get her."
"Lena, listen to me," Adrien caught my shoulders, turning me to face him directly. His dark eyes were fierce, burning with an intensity that brooked no argument, yet softened by an unmistakable wave of raw emotion. "Montauk is a fortress. Blake knows we have the files. If we walk into that lighthouse without a tactical strategy, we won't walk out."
"I don't care about strategy," I snapped, pulling away from his grip. "That’s my mother on that screen! She spent twenty years hiding in the dark because of men like your father and Robert Blake! I am going to Montauk, Adrien—with you or without you."
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Adrien stared at me for a long, agonizing moment. Then, a slow, grim smile touched his mouth.
"You really think I’d let you go anywhere without me?" He pulled a heavy tactical submachine gun from the wall rack behind the vault door, checked the magazine with a satisfying clack, and handed it to Marco’s replacement—a towering enforcer named Viktor. "Let's gear up. We're going hunting."
