CHAPTER 8 — The Traitor Was Standing Beside Her All Along
No one spoke.
Emma's phone screen went dark.
Only the sound of the burning mansion remained.
Three hours.
One key.
One child.
Emma refused to accept it.
"We're bringing both of them home."
Richard nodded.
"We leave now."
But as he reached for the front door...
A sharp click echoed through the room.
Everyone froze.
Daniel slowly turned around.
Margaret was pointing a pistol directly at Richard.
Tears streamed down her face.
"I'm sorry..."
"I can't let you go."
Emma stared in disbelief.
"Mother... what are you doing?"
Margaret's hands trembled.
"They said they'd kill Lily and Noah if Richard reached Blackstone Island."
Richard let out a slow sigh.
"I knew they'd get to you eventually."
Daniel stepped between them.
"Put the gun down."
Margaret shook her head violently.
"You don't understand!"
"They've been watching us for years!"
Suddenly...
Richard smiled.
A strange, almost relieved smile.
"You still think I'm the one they fear?"
Emma frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Richard slowly removed his glasses.
Then he peeled away what looked like a thin layer of artificial skin from the side of his face.
Underneath...
A long scar stretched from his temple to his jaw.
Daniel's eyes widened.
"No..."
Richard reached into his wallet and pulled out an old military identification card.
"My name isn't Richard Hayes."
"My real name is Michael Carter."
Emma gasped.
The name hit her like lightning.
Michael Carter.
Her father's closest friend.
The man who had supposedly died in a helicopter crash twenty-five years earlier.
Emma whispered,
"My father said you saved his life..."
Michael nodded.
"I did."
"And he saved mine."
He looked at Emma with sorrow.
"The night your father died..."
"I was supposed to die with him."
Silence consumed the room.
Michael took a deep breath.
"He knew The Circle would come for his children."
"So he made me promise something."
"What promise?" Emma asked.
Michael looked directly into her eyes.
"That if one day they took you..."
"I would destroy The Circle..."
"...even if I had to sacrifice myself."
Just then...
A slow clap echoed from outside.
One.
Two.
Three.
Everyone turned toward the shattered doorway.
A tall man dressed in a black suit stepped through the smoke.
No mask.
No fear.
Only a cold smile.
He looked at Emma.
Then at Michael.
Finally, he laughed.
"Twenty-five years..."
"And you're still protecting the wrong person."
Emma's heart pounded.
"Who are you?"
The stranger pulled a silver pocket watch from his coat.
It bore the exact same family crest engraved on the mysterious key.
He smiled.
"My name..."
"...is Jonathan Whitmore."
Margaret gasped so hard she nearly collapsed.
"No..."
"That's impossible."
"We buried you."
Jonathan's smile grew wider.
"You buried the wrong brother."
He looked straight at Emma.
Then spoke the words that shattered everything she believed.
"I'm not your enemy."
"I'm your uncle."
"And your father..."
May you like
"...is still alive."
To Be Continued...
