Chapter 6 - MY FATHER'S SECRET
I went home alone.
Not to my parents' house.
To my apartment.
I locked the door.
Closed the blinds.
And sat at the kitchen table with the photograph in front of me.
I stared at my father's face.
He was smiling.
Daniel Mercer stood beside him.
Tiffany was younger.
Brad looked exactly the same.
I turned the photograph over.
ASK YOUR FATHER WHO GAVE THE ORDER.
My phone rang.
My father.
I answered.
“Where is Mom?”
“Safe.”
“And Tiffany?”
“She's with me.”
“Where?”
“You don't need to know.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You spent five years telling me I didn't need to know anything.”
“Elena—”
“Did you know Daniel Mercer?”
Silence.
That was my answer.
“You did.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you lie?”
“Because I was protecting you.”
“From what?”
“From the truth.”
“You don't get to decide that anymore.”
He exhaled.
Then he said:
“Your grandmother did.”
I froze.
“What?”
“She made me promise.”
“Promise what?”
“To keep you away from this.”
“What is this?”
Another silence.
Then:
“The operation that killed Mercer wasn't supposed to happen.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“What?”
“The mission was changed at the last minute.”
“By whom?”
“I can't tell you.”
“You will.”
“No.”
“Dad.”
“I was ordered.”
“By whom?”
“I can't.”
I stood.
“Were you involved in the leak?”
“No.”
“Did you know who was?”
“I suspected.”
“Who?”
He didn't answer.
“Was it someone in the military?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
He whispered a name.
I didn't recognize it.
But Whitmore did.
When I told him, his face changed.
“That officer was removed from service three years ago.”
“Why?”
“Corruption.”
My stomach dropped.
“Did he work with Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“And my father?”
Whitmore stared at me.
“Your father wasn't the mastermind.”
“Then what was he?”
“An intermediary.”
The word made me sick.
My father had been the person moving information.
Maybe he hadn't pulled the trigger.
But he had opened the door.
That night, I confronted my mother.
She broke down immediately.
“Your father made mistakes.”
“People died.”
“I know.”
“Grandma knew.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“Because she loved you.”
I shook my head.
“She should have trusted me.”
“She thought you would go after the people responsible.”
“I would have.”
“Exactly.”
My mother covered her face.
Then she whispered:
“There was another reason.”
“What?”
She looked at me.
“Your grandmother discovered that the money wasn't just your father's.”
I frowned.
“Whose was it?”
She hesitated.
“Someone in the military.”
My heart stopped.
“Who?”
Before she could answer, the front door exploded inward.
My mother screamed.
Three men rushed inside.
I moved instinctively.
Years of training took over.
I pulled my mother behind the kitchen island.
One man shouted.
“Where's the drive?”
I didn't answer.
Another stepped forward.
“Where is it?”
I looked at my mother.
She was shaking.
Then she whispered:
“Run.”
I grabbed her hand.
We escaped through the back door.
But before we reached the alley, I heard a voice behind us.
My father's voice.
“Don't shoot!”
I turned.
He was standing in the doorway.
Hands raised.
One of the men pointed a weapon at him.
My father looked directly at me.
And said:
May you like
“I'm sorry.”
Then he stepped in front of the gun.
