Chapter 19
I had an aunt I had never met.
That was the first thing I understood.
The second was worse.
She had worked at Westbridge for fourteen years.
Dad had never told me.
Claire had never told me.
Grandfather had apparently spent decades creating secrets faster than our family could uncover them.
“Half-sister?”
I looked at Dad.
He stared at Patricia’s employee photograph.
“She’s twelve years younger than Claire.”
Claire corrected him automatically.
“Eleven.”
Dad barely reacted.
“Grandfather had another daughter?”
“Yes.”
“With who?”
Claire looked uncomfortable.
“A woman he worked with.”
I stared between them.
“And nobody thought I should know?”
Dad looked exhausted.
“We haven’t spoken to Patricia in years.”
“That keeps happening in this family.”
Claire flinched.
I immediately felt guilty but didn’t take it back.
“Why?”
Dad answered.
“My father acknowledged her privately but not publicly.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Yes.”
“Did Grandma know?”
“Eventually.”
I couldn’t imagine the damage.
“What happened when Grandfather died?”
Claire crossed her arms.
“He left Patricia money.”
Dad looked at her.
“And she refused it.”
Claire nodded.
“She said she didn’t want compensation for being hidden.”
I understood her instantly.
“What did she want?”
“Recognition.”
Dad looked away.
“Dad’s estate lawyers advised against reopening family matters publicly.”
I stared at him.
“And you agreed?”
“Yes.”
The answer came quietly.
I felt anger rise.
“You helped hide her too.”
Dad closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought I was protecting your grandmother.”
“Wasn’t she already dead?”
He flinched.
“Yes.”
“Then who were you protecting?”
He didn’t answer.
That was the answer.
The Harrison name.
Reputation.
Exactly the system he now condemned.
He sat down.
“I’m not proud of it.”
Claire looked at me.
“Neither am I.”
“You agreed too?”
“Yes.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Our family really likes deciding silence is kindness.”
Neither argued.
Daniel interrupted gently.
“Patricia Harrison is missing.”
Of course.
“When?”
“She left Westbridge yesterday afternoon.”
“Before Dalton disappeared?”
“Yes.”
“Phone?”
“Off.”
“Home?”
“Empty.”
Dad stood.
“We find her.”
Claire looked skeptical.
“What if she’s working with Victor?”
“Then we still find her.”
I asked, “Did she know Grandfather was H?”
Neither knew.
Federal agents searched Patricia’s office.
In a locked drawer they found copies of student medical files.
That looked terrible.
But attached to each was a handwritten note.
NOT AUTHORIZED FOR EXTERNAL RELEASE.
REPORTED DATA BREACH.
PARENT CONTACTED.
SYSTEM ACCESS SUSPICIOUS.
I stared at the photographs of her notes.
“She was documenting it.”
Dad nodded.
“Looks that way.”
“Then why didn’t anyone act?”
Claire’s expression hardened.
“Her complaints went to Mercer.”
“And disappeared.”
“Yes.”
I thought of Mrs. Flores.
Another woman trying to say something inside a system designed not to hear.
“What about Victor’s call?”
Nobody knew.
That afternoon, Patricia called Dad.
Not investigators.
Dad.
He answered on speaker after she agreed.
“Ethan.”
Her voice was calm.
Dad looked shaken.
“Patricia.”
“Been a long time.”
“Yes.”
“Too long.”
Dad swallowed.
“Yes.”
I sat quietly.
This was family history happening in real time.
Patricia continued.
“I assume you know who Victor Lane is by now.”
“Yes.”
“He called me.”
“What did he want?”
“Medical records.”
“For who?”
“Avery.”
My stomach dropped.
Dad stood.
“What?”
I leaned toward the phone.
“Why?”
Patricia heard me.
“Is that her?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Then, softly, “Hello, Avery.”
“Hi.”
I didn’t know what else to say to my secret aunt.
She continued.
“Victor wanted your medical information.”
“What medical information?”
“Anything he could use.”
My skin went cold.
“To do what?”
“Discredit you.”
Dad’s face became furious.
“He wanted to make me look unstable?”
“Yes.”
Like Jasmine.
Like Maya.
“Did you give him anything?”
“No.”
“Then why did he call?”
“Because he thought blood mattered more than conscience.”
Dad flinched.
“What did you tell him?”
“To go to hell.”
Despite everything, I liked her instantly.
“Where are you?”
Dad asked.
“Safe.”
“That isn’t enough.”
“It has been enough for your family for twenty years.”
Dad absorbed the blow.
“I deserve that.”
Patricia went quiet.
Then said, “Yes.”
Claire looked away.
Dad continued.
“But Avery doesn’t.”
Patricia’s voice softened.
“No.”
“Then help us.”
Silence.
“I have Victor’s archive.”
Everyone froze.
“What?”
“He kept backup data.”
“How did you get it?”
“He made the mistake of using Westbridge’s medical server as a routing node years ago.”
Daniel’s eyebrows shot up.
Patricia continued.
“I copied packets when I realized student records were leaving the system.”
“Why didn’t you go to police?”
“I did.”
We all stared.
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Who did you speak to?”
She gave a name.
Daniel immediately wrote it down.
Patricia continued.
“Then Oliver visited my house.”
Dad’s face darkened.
“What did he do?”
“Asked whether I enjoyed working around children.”
I felt sick.
“He threatened you.”
“Yes.”
“Why stay at Westbridge?”
“Because if I left, nobody inside would watch them.”
I thought of Mrs. Flores again.
People trapped between danger and duty.
Patricia gave Dad an address.
“Send federal agents.”
“Where?”
“A storage unit in Burbank.”
“What’s there?”
“Copies of everything I could preserve.”
“Everything?”
“Access logs. Medical exports. Messages. Student names.”
She paused.
“And recordings from my father.”
Dad went pale.
“Dad?”
“Yes.”
“What recordings?”
“Before he died, he came to see me.”
Claire leaned forward.
“He visited you?”
“Several times.”
Dad looked hurt.
Grandfather had maintained another relationship while his acknowledged children thought Patricia was gone from his life.
“What did he say?”
Patricia’s voice tightened.
“He told me he created a monster.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“The Westbridge system?”
“Yes.”
“He started it?”
“He helped.”
Dad sat down.
Patricia continued.
“He thought protecting teenagers from one stupid mistake was mercy.”
“He covered things up.”
“Yes.”
“Then Victor took over.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t Grandfather stop him?”
“He tried.”
I stared at the speaker.
“How?”
“He gathered evidence.”
“Where is it?”
“In the storage unit.”
Dad looked at Daniel.
“Move now.”
Daniel called agents.
Then Patricia said, “There’s one recording you need to hear first.”
“Which?”
“The last one.”
A pause.
“My father believed Victor was going to kill him.”
The room went silent.
Dad’s face changed completely.
Grandfather Harrison had died six years earlier.
Officially from a heart attack.
At home.
Alone.
Dad whispered, “What are you saying?”
Patricia answered carefully.
“I’m saying our father didn’t think his death would be natural.”
I felt my skin turn cold.
Dad’s voice shook.
“Patricia.”
“I don’t know if he was right.”
“Where are you?”
“I’ll come in when Victor is in custody.”
“We can protect you.”
“You couldn’t protect Maya.”
Dad had no answer.
Patricia softened.
“That wasn’t fair.”
“Yes, it was.”
Then she said, “Ethan, listen to the recording.”
The line ended.
Ten minutes later, federal agents opened the Burbank storage unit.
Inside were twelve boxes.
Three encrypted hard drives.
A laptop.
And an old digital recorder labeled in my grandfather’s handwriting.
FOR ETHAN AND CLAIRE.
May you like
Dad stared at the photograph of it.
Then he whispered, “He knew we’d find this someday.”
