I returned to the prison after my confrontation with Damien.
Vincent looked worse than last time. The prison had aged him in ways that seemed impossible. "Elena." His face brightened when he saw me, then immediately clouded with concern. "Is everything alright?"
"I found Mama's study," I said flatly, cutting him off.
"What did you find?"
I pulled out the photographs I had taken with my phone and showed him
He stared at the images without touching them.
"She's alive, isn't she?" I kept my voice steady even though my heart was racing. "You helped her fake her death. You had someone else's body cremated and told me it was Mama."
"Why?" My voice cracked. "Why would you let me grieve for eight years? Why would you let me think she was dead?"
"Because if you knew the truth, you'd be in danger." He opened his eyes, and they were full of anguish. "Elena, please. You need to stop investigating. You need to forget everything you've found."
"It's too late for that."
"Riverside," he said. "She found out about Riverside."
He was silent for a long moment, wrestling with something. Finally, he exhaled shakily. "There was an explosion. Years ago."
"I don't remember any explosion."
"You wouldn't. We kept it out of the New York papers as much as possible. "Fourteen people died. Workers, most of them were immigrants, some undocumented. The official report said it was an accident. Equipment failure."
"But it wasn't an accident."
"No." His voice broke. "It wasn't."
"What really happened?"
"The plant had safety violations. Critical ones. The equipment was faulty, the protocols inadequate. There had been complaints for months from workers and inspectors who weren't on our payroll."
"And?"
"And fixing it would have cost millions. Shutting down production while we did repairs would have cost even more. The board and I voted to delay the repairs. We falsified safety reports, bribed the right inspectors, and kept the plant running." "Three months later, it exploded."
I felt sick. "You knew people could die and you did nothing."
"I told myself it wouldn't happen. That we had time. That we'd fix it before anything went wrong." "I thought I knew better than the safety experts. I was wrong."
"Who died?" I needed to know. I needed to understand the scope of what my family had done.
Vincent recited the names like a confession then mentioned Michael Cross and Sarah Cross. And their little daughter, Lily."
wait... "Cross. Damien's family."
"Yes." Vincent's expression was haunted. "Michael and Sarah were environmental lawyers. They'd been investigating Castellano Industries for months interviewing workers, gathering evidence of safety violations. They were scheduled to testify before a grand jury the following week."
"They were at the plant to gather final evidence?"
"Yes. It was Sunday. The plant was supposed to be empty except for a skeleton maintenance crew. But someone told them there would be incriminating documents in the administrative office. They brought their daughter because they thought it would be quick in and out."
I pressed my hand to my mouth, feeling bile rise in my throat. "They walked into a trap."
"Who?" I demanded. "Who told them to go there? Who knew the plant was going to explode?"
"Elena, please"
"WHO, Papa?"
"Two days before it happened, I got a call. From Senator Thomas Brighton."
The name meant nothing to me. "Who's that?"
"Thomas Brighton. He's been a US Senator for thirty years. One of the most powerful men in Washington." Vincent's voice shook. "He was one of our major investors who had significant holdings in Castellano Industries. He told me the Cross family was getting too close. That they had evidence that could bring down not just our company, but others. That the situation needed to be... contained."
"What does that mean?"
"He said there would be an incident at the Riverside plant. That the problem would be handled. That I needed to make sure I was nowhere near there when it happened." A tear rolled down Vincent's cheek. "He told me to have an alibi ready. To prepare to handle the aftermath."
My mind was reeling. "He told you they were going to cause the explosion?"
"He didn't use those exact words. But yes. That's what he meant." "I didn't believe him. I thought he was exaggerating, trying to scare me. I didn't think anyone would actually..."
"But someone did."
"Yes. Someone planted explosives to make it look like the faulty equipment had finally failed catastrophically. When I realized what had happened I was sick. Physically sick." "I went to Brighton. Confronted him. Asked him how he could murder people, murder innocent people."
"What did he say?"
"He showed me recordings of our phone conversations. Proof that he'd warned me, that I'd known something was going to happen. He said if I talked to anyone, police, FBI he'd make sure I go down as the one who ordered it. That he had enough evidence to prove I was the mastermind." "He said I had two choices: help cover it up and live, or tell the truth and spend the rest of my life in prison for mass murder."
"So you covered it up."
"I falsified the investigation reports. Paid off the coroner to rush the conclusion. Made sure the official finding was 'accidental explosion due to equipment failure.' I helped bury the evidence." He was crying openly now. "I buried fourteen deaths to save myself. I am a monster, Elena."
I sat back, trying to process everything. My father, a gentle Papa who'd read me bedtime stories, had helped cover up fourteen murders to save his own skin.
"The Cross family," I said slowly. "Michael, Sarah and Lily. They were murdered specifically because they were investigating you."
"Yes."
"And Damien...?"
"He survived because he wasn't with them that day." Vincent's voice cracked. "He lost his entire family because of what I did."
Everything clicked into place. The revenge. The contract. The way Damien looked at me sometimes like I was both precious and poisonous.
"That's why he took me," I whispered. "I'm the daughter of the man who let his family die."
Vincent nodded miserably. "I couldn't protect you from that. When the fraud charges came down, when they offered me a deal that included... giving you up... I had no choice. I was going to prison either way. At least this way, you'd be provided for."
"Provided for?" I laughed bitterly. "I'm living as payment for a blood debt."
"I know. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
I pushed that aside for now. There would be time to process my father's betrayal later. Right now, I need information.
"What about Mama? How does she fit into all of this?"
Vincent took a shaky breath. "About a year before her... before the accident, Isabella started finding things. Documents I'd hidden, files I'd buried. She was cleaning out the estate library and found a safe I'd forgotten about. Inside were the original Riverside investigation reports, the real ones, before I falsified them."
"She knew you'd covered up murders."
"Yes. And she started digging, she hired investigators, contacted environmental lawyers, and researched similar incidents at other plants." His voice dropped. "She found a pattern. The Riverside explosion wasn't the first time Brighton had... eliminated problems. There had been other accidents, other convenient deaths. Isabella was building a case."
"Against Brighton?"
"Against everyone involved. Brighton, me, the other board members, the inspectors we'd bribed. She had documents, recordings, and witness statements. She was going to expose everything." Vincent's eyes filled with fresh tears. "She told me what she planned to do. Begged me to turn myself in, to do the right thing. I refused. I told her she'd destroy you if she went public. That you'd be the daughter of a mass murderer."
"So she was going to do it anyway?"
"Yes. She said some things were more important than reputation. That those fourteen families deserved justice." "Two weeks before she was supposed to meet with federal prosecutors, I got another call. From someone who worked for Brighton, I don't know who. They said Isabella had been in a car accident. That she was dead. That it was tragic, but... convenient."
I felt cold. "They were going to kill her."
"That's what I thought. But when I called in favors, bribed people at the scene I realized the body they'd pulled from the car wasn't her. Wrong height, wrong dental records. Someone had made a mistake, or..." He paused. "Or Isabella was smarter than all of us. She'd staged her own death before they could do it for real."
"And you helped her?"
"I provided the body of a Jane Doe from the morgue, someone unclaimed. I arranged for the quick cremation before anyone could look too closely. I played the grieving husband." "It was the least I could do. I'd already destroyed her life. I owed her a way out."
"Did you ever hear from her after?"
"Never. Not a word. I assume she knew contacting me would put her in danger. "Or she simply wanted nothing to do with the man I'd become. I don't blame her."
"Where is she now?"
"I don't know. Truly. She could be anywhere in Europe, South America, or Asia. She had enough money to disappear completely." "Elena, that's why you need to stop this investigation. Brighton is still out there. He's still powerful. If he finds out you're digging into Riverside, asking questions about your mother..."
"He already knows, doesn't he?" I said quietly. "someone's been asking about her. A private investigator named Marcus Chen."
Vincent's eyes widened. "How do you know about that?"
"He visited Mama's old assistant, asking questions about her final days." I leaned forward. "Who hired him, Papa? Who's been searching for Mama all these years?"
"I don't know. He looked terrified. "Whoever it is has resources. They've been searching for eight years. If they're still looking, that means they still want her dead."
"Or they want what she has. The evidence."
"Either way, it's dangerous. And if they connect you to the investigation..." He grabbed my hand across the table, his grip desperate. "Elena, please. Run. Get out of the country. Change your identity like your mother did. Don't end up dead because of my sins."
"I'm not running."
"Elena"
"Mama ran and she lost eight years with her daughter. Eight years she'll never get back." I pulled my hand away. "I'm not going to spend my life hiding. I'm going to finish what she started."
"They'll kill you!" His voice rose, drawing the guard's attention. He lowered it quickly. "Brighton has killed before. He'll do it again. You're one person. You can't fight him."
"Maybe not. But I can try." I stood up.
"And Damien," Vincent said quietly. "Be careful with him too. I don't know what he knows or what he's planning. But he's spent years planning revenge on our family. Don't trust him just because you live under his roof."
"I'll be careful," I said.
"I promise."
The guard approached. "Time's up, miss."
Vincent stood, his movements stiff and painful. "Elena... I love you. Whatever happens, please know that I love you. And I'm sorry. For everything."
I looked at my father, this broken man who'd chosen cowardice over courage, comfort over justice. Part of me hated him. Part of me pitied him. Most of me just felt exhausted.
"I love you too, Papa," I said quietly. "But love doesn't fix what you did. And it doesn't mean I'll stop trying to make it right."
He nodded, "I know. Just... stay alive. That's all I ask. Stay alive.
I left the prison with more questions than answers.
But the biggest question: what did Damien know?
He'd been investigating my family for years, building his revenge. But did he know about Brighton? Did he understand that my father was a pawn in a much larger game?
I stood outside the prison in the cold November air and pulled out my burner phone.
I texted Sarah Rodriguez: we need to meet. Tonight.
Her response came immediately: Where?
I gave her an address at a diner in Queens, far from anywhere Damien would think to look for me.
I turned off the phone.
I didn't know if I was being paranoid or smart. But I knew one thing for certain: my mother had tried to expose the truth and had to disappear for eight years. My father had buried the truth and ended up in prison.
I wasn't going to run, and I wasn't going to hide.
But I also wasn't going to make it easy for them to kill me.
Fourteen people had died because powerful men decided their lives didn't matter. My mother had sacrificed everything trying to get them justice. And I was the daughter of both the perpetrator and the whistleblower caught between my father's sins and my mother's crusade.
But I was also my own person. And I was done being a pawn in other people's games.
It was time to become a player.
Even if it killed me