Chapter 97 False Truth

Chapter 97 False Truth

My hand was shaking, lifting slowly, as if it belonged to someone else.

Over Arthur's shoulder, my eyes locked onto the Beretta on the desk, pulled toward it like iron to a magnet.

Kill him.

The thought wrapped around my heart and squeezed.

I could almost smell my mother in the clinic garden—jasmine, antiseptic, and warm sunlight all mingled together.

No.

I couldn't put her in danger again.

I could lose everything. Everything but her.

"Sophia."

Arthur's voice yanked me back from the blood-stained fantasy playing in my head.

He'd noticed.

Noticed my body going rigid. Noticed my hand halfway raised.

He didn't let go. He pulled me closer, arms like steel.

Those amber eyes pinned me in place.

"Look at me. Don't think. Don't listen. He's manipulating you."

Manipulating me?

I stared at him—this man who'd just promised to protect me and my mother.

My head was a storm I couldn't outrun.

One road led to my mother alive and Arthur dead. The other… to both of us buried. Either way, it was a choice meant to destroy.

My hand still trembled.

The gun was only a few steps away.

If I shoved him aside, lunged for it, grabbed it...

No.

Wait.

A sharp voice cut through the chaos in my skull. "Sophia, are you an idiot? You think killing him means that bastard in the shadows keeps his word? He uses your mother to make you kill Arthur today—tomorrow he'll use the same trick to make you kill anyone he wants. You'll go from pawn to blood-soaked puppet."

The fog cleared. I could never hand my fate to someone else.

I shoved Arthur hard.

He stumbled back a step, shock flashing across his face.

I didn't look at him.

I spun around, nearly tripping as I lunged for the desk.

Not for the gun.

For my laptop.

I flipped it open, fingers shaking but flying across the keys, moving so fast they blurred.

Lines of code cascaded down the screen like a dark cascade.

Trace failed? Firewall?

My eyes went razor-sharp. Whatever obstacle stood in my way was nothing but tissue paper. Whoever was on the other end had no idea what they were dealing with.

I slammed the final key.

A tracking program I'd built myself—never shown to anyone—tore through the firewall like a predator on the hunt.

"Sophia..." Arthur's voice came from behind me, uncertain.

I ignored him.

My eyes stayed glued to the screen.

Got it.

I'd found an abandoned satellite relay being used as a jump point.

I didn't need his location. Just a channel to make him hear my voice.

I grabbed the desk phone and punched in the number I'd just cracked.

The dial tone stretched out, each ring hammering against my nerves.

Just when I thought he wouldn't answer, the line clicked.

"Sophia." That processed, genderless voice again.

"You really are... full of surprises."

"The surprises are just getting started."

My voice came out calm. Professional. Like the screaming, panicked woman from thirty seconds ago had never existed.

"You want Arthur dead? Fine. But until I see my mother safe, you don't touch a single hair on his head."

"You're negotiating with me?" The laugh that came through was dripping with contempt.

"No," I corrected. "I'm informing you. From now on, I make the rules."

Silence on the other end.

"Interesting. You're just like your father—same arrogance, same... stupidity."

"You think you've chosen a savior?"

"Sophia, do you even realize that the man standing next to you is no different from the enemies you claim to hate?"

My stomach dropped.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You really think Arthur's father died because of Marshall's betrayal?"

"Open your eyes. Look at the man you trust. See what he really is."

A new email pinged on my laptop.

Video attachment.

Before I could react, it started playing automatically.

The footage was grainy, like old surveillance from a hidden camera.

The setting was a dated hospital room.

An elderly man lay in the bed, tubes running into his frail body.

Arthur's father.

He looked weak but alert.

He was talking to a doctor in a white coat.

Suddenly the door opened.

Arthur walked in.

Black suit. A face I'd never seen before—dark, cold, empty.

His father's eyes went wide with terror.

He tried to sit up, mouth forming words I couldn't hear.

Arthur didn't acknowledge him.

He walked to the bedside, took a syringe from the doctor's hand.

Under his father's gaze—filled with disbelief and despair—Arthur slowly pushed the contents into the IV bag.

The video had no sound.

I could only watch as Arthur's father's body began to convulse violently.

Then, gradually, went still.

The jagged line on the heart monitor flattened into a single, piercing flatline.

Arthur stood there, watching his father die in front of him.

No expression on his face.

No grief. No hesitation.

Just cold satisfaction at a job completed.

The video cut off.

My world collapsed into darkness.

I turned slowly to face Arthur standing behind me.

For the throne of a godfather, he'd killed his own father with his own hands.

This man—the one I'd just decided to fight beside, the one who'd pushed me past every limit I had—was a patricidal monster.

"Now," the voice on the phone said, triumph dripping from every syllable, "do you still think he's worth protecting?"

"Sophia, you and your family... chose the wrong man."

The call ended.

Arthur stared at me, face pale as death.

"This isn't true," he said, voice raw.

"Sophia, this isn't—"

The study door slammed open.

Colin burst in, panic written across every inch of his face like the end of the world had arrived.

He didn't even glance at me. He went straight to Arthur, shouting like a man watching everything collapse.

"Boss!"

"That video... it's out!"

"Everyone—every elder, every soldier, everyone—has seen it!"