CHAPTER FOURTEEN – THE ISLAND OF SECRETS
Emily couldn't ignore the letter.
Three nights later, she quietly left before sunrise.
She believed she was protecting the family.
She never noticed Richard following at a distance.
Blackwood Island was little more than an abandoned lighthouse surrounded by crashing waves.
No tourists.
No homes.
Only silence.
Inside the lighthouse waited an elderly woman sitting beside a fireplace.
"I've been expecting you," she said.
Emily frowned.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Eleanor."
She slowly stood.
"I worked for Charles Hawthorne thirty years ago."
Richard stepped into the room.
"So he's alive."
Eleanor nodded sadly.
"Yes."
"And he's dying."
Emily stared.
"What?"
"He doesn't have much time left."
Richard's jaw tightened.
"After everything he's done, why should we care?"
Eleanor walked to an old wooden chest.
Inside were dozens of journals.
Medical files.
Letters.
Photographs.
She handed one journal to Emily.
"It belonged to Charles."
Emily opened the first page.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
Power made me wealthy.
Regret made me human.
The journal revealed a truth neither of them expected.
Charles had never wanted Liam because of money.
Years earlier, he had funded a classified medical research program after losing his own young daughter to a rare genetic illness.
The program collapsed after unethical experiments and corruption destroyed it.
Charles spent decades searching for a child who carried an extremely rare genetic marker that might hold the key to completing legitimate research.
Liam happened to carry that marker.
Charles's obsession had begun as desperation.
Over time, it became something darker.
He convinced himself that any sacrifice was justified if it meant achieving his goal.
Emily closed the journal.
"There had to be another way."
Eleanor lowered her head.
"There always was."
May you like
"But Charles stopped seeing people..."
"...and started seeing only outcomes."
