Chapter 10 - THREE MOVES AHEAD
I hit the snow hard enough to lose my breath.
Dana landed beside me. My mother rolled down the slope and caught a tree root with both hands.
The car disappeared over the edge.
A second later, it exploded below us.
The driver had jumped from the other side. He fired down the slope.
Dana pulled me behind a boulder.
“Can you reach your mother?”
I crawled through the snow while bullets struck the trees. My mother’s fingers were slipping.
“I’ve got you.”
“You always said that when you were five,” she gasped.
“Save the memories. Help me pull.”
Together, Dana and I dragged her onto solid ground.
Marcus had insisted I wear an emergency tracker under my coat. Three minutes later, sirens echoed through the valley.
The gunman ran.
Federal agents caught him at the base of the mountain.
His phone contained messages from Richard Hale—but not Arthur Bell. Bell had made sure every order passed through someone else.
My mother’s chess notes proved the conspiracy existed. They did not prove Bell controlled it.
My father was released pending investigation, but his company remained frozen.
Our reunion happened inside a federal safe house.
He entered the room, saw my mother, and stopped breathing.
Elaine crossed the floor.
Nathan Sterling, the man who never showed emotion in public, dropped to his knees and wept against her hands.
I turned away to give them the privacy fourteen stolen years deserved.
Later, we built our plan around Bell’s one weakness.
Pride.
Westbridge’s annual Founders Gala was three days away. Bell was scheduled to announce the university expansion and present himself as the man who had saved both Westbridge and Sterling Global.
We decided to let him.
Veronica agreed to help in exchange for legal consideration. She would wear a microphone and tell Bell she had the original Project Lantern ledger.
“You trust her?” my father asked.
“No,” I said. “I understand her.”
Veronica cared about herself. Right now, telling the truth was her best chance of survival.
At the gala, she approached Bell near the backstage corridor.
“I have the ledger,” she whispered.
Bell smiled warmly for the cameras.
Then he leaned close.
“Your father should have taught you what happens to children who know too much.”
He guided her into a private room.
Our audio feed crackled.
Then it went silent.
I opened the door.
The room was empty.
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On the wall, written in red, were four words:
TRADE ELAINE FOR THE GIRL.
