Chapter 18: The Last Game Richard Played
The room went silent.
Richard Mercer was alive.
But that wasn't the terrifying part.
The terrifying part was that everyone thought he was gone.
Even Sloan.
Even Michael.
Even the people who had spent years hiding his secrets.
Harrison stared at Evelyn.
"Where is he?""
She looked terrified.
"I don't know.""
"Then how do you know he's alive?""
She held up the phone.
"He sent this.""
A video file.
Nobody wanted to open it.
But we already knew.
There was no going back.
Harrison pressed play.
Richard appeared on screen.
Older.
Tired.
But still wearing the same expression.
The expression of a man who believed he was always in control.
"Congratulations.""
His voice was calm.
"You finally found the truth.""
Ava stepped closer.
Richard continued.
"But you still don't understand the biggest part.""
I felt anger rise.
"Of course he has another secret.""
Harrison ignored me.
He watched.
Richard leaned closer to the camera.
"Robert thought he could defeat me.""
A small smile.
"He was wrong.""
The screen showed documents.
Thousands of pages.
"Every secret has a price.""
Richard looked directly at the camera.
"And the truth about Ethan was only the beginning.""
Ethan clenched his fists.
"What else?""
Richard answered:
"Ask Marianne why Robert never told her the truth about her own past.""
My heart stopped.
Again.
Always another secret.
Harrison looked at me.
"Mom?""
I shook my head.
"I don't know.""
But fear was already growing.
Because Richard knew exactly where to hurt us.
The video continued.
"Marianne, you spent your life believing you were the victim.""
Richard smiled.
"But you were part of the story from the beginning.""
I felt sick.
The video ended.
Nobody spoke.
Then Sloan appeared in the doorway.
She looked like she hadn't slept.
"What did he say?""
Harrison turned.
"You knew he was alive?""
She shook her head.
"No.""
For once, I believed her.
Sloan looked at the screen.
"He's playing his final game.""
Ava frowned.
"What game?""
Sloan looked at us.
"The same one he has always played.""
She took a breath.
"Control.""
Everyone was exhausted.
But the truth wasn't finished.
It was only changing shape.
Michael sat quietly.
"I know where he might be.""
Everyone looked at him.
Harrison's expression hardened.
"Why would we trust you?""
Michael accepted that.
"You shouldn't.""
He stood.
"But I know Richard.""
He looked at Evelyn.
"And I know where he kept his final files.""
"Where?""
Michael hesitated.
"The Mercer family estate.""
My stomach tightened.
The old house.
The place Robert inherited.
The place Richard grew up.
The place everyone avoided after Robert died.
Harrison looked at Ethan.
"We go tonight.""
Ava nodded.
Daniel did too.
I wanted to say no.
I wanted to tell them enough was enough.
But I knew better.
Because every time we stopped searching, someone else controlled the story.
When we arrived at the Mercer estate, the house looked abandoned.
But the front door was unlocked.
Inside, everything was covered in dust.
Except one room.
The study.
Someone had been there recently.
Harrison opened the desk.
Inside was a folder.
My name was on it.
Marianne Mercer.
I almost didn't touch it.
But I had spent my life afraid of what was hidden.
Not anymore.
I opened it.
Inside were letters.
Old letters.
From my mother.
I read the first one.
Then stopped.
Because the first sentence changed everything.
"My daughter, I am sorry I lied about the night you were born.""
I felt my hands go numb.
Harrison looked over my shoulder.
"What does it say?""
I kept reading.
The letter explained that my mother had known about the twins.
She had known about Richard.
She had known about the hospital.
But she had hidden something else.
Something even Robert never discovered.
At the bottom of the letter was a name.
A name I had never heard before.
And beside it was a photograph.
A woman.
A woman who looked exactly like me.
Ethan stared at the picture.
"Who is that?""
I turned the photograph over.
Three words were written on the back.
"Your real sister.""
I looked up.
Everyone was silent.
Because suddenly the biggest secret wasn't about my children.
It was about me.
May you like
And somewhere in the world, there was someone who shared my face.
Someone who knew the truth before I did. :::
