Chapter 30: The Encrypted Video

Selena's POV

The computer screen exploded in sparks as I slammed my fist against it.

"Damn it!"

Twelve hours. I'd been trying to crack this video file for twelve straight hours. My eyes burned. My fingers ached. But I couldn't stop.

David limped over with coffee. "Take a break."

"No. I'm close. I can feel it."

"You said that six hours ago."

I glared at him. "This is my mother's computer. Her files. Her last message to me."

"Or it's a virus that will fry your brain along with the hard drive."

I turned back to the screen. The encrypted file sat there. Mocking me.

PROTECTED_VIDEO_CM_FINAL.mp4

CM. Claire Morrison. My real mother.

"She left this for me," I said. "I know it."

"How do you know?"

"Because the password prompt keeps asking for 'daughter's name.' Not code words. Not numbers. A name."

"You've tried Selena a hundred times."

"Maybe that's not the name she meant."

I'd tried everything. Selena. Selena Rossi. Selena Morrison. Every combination I could think of.

Nothing worked.

David sat down beside me. "What if she didn't know your name?"

"She gave birth to me."

"But did she name you? Or did Maria choose the name after she took you?"

I stopped typing. "You think my real name is different?"

"I think your mother might have called you something else. In her heart."

Tears filled my eyes. "What kind of mother doesn't even know her baby's real name?"

"The kind who dies before she can hold her child."

I wiped my eyes and kept working. New approach. Pet names. Nicknames. Terms of endearment.

Baby. Sweetheart. Princess. Angel.

Nothing.

My phone buzzed. Text message from Emma.

Still trying to save him? He's not worth it.

I showed David. His face went gray.

"She's watching us."

"How?"

"I don't know. But Emma always was good with technology."

"Your sister who's supposed to be dead?"

"Apparently death is very popular in our circle."

I went back to the computer. But my hands were shaking now. Emma was out there. Alive. Angry.

And she wanted David back.

"What if I can't crack it?" I asked.

"Then we find another way."

"What other way? This video might be the only proof we have."

"Proof of what?"

"That my father didn't order the hit. That someone else is pulling the strings."

David touched my shoulder. "Even if we prove Enzo's innocent, it doesn't change what I did."

"You followed orders."

"I pulled the trigger."

"Someone loaded the gun."

I typed in another password attempt.

Hope.

The file started opening.

"David! It's working!"

The video loaded slowly. Ancient computer. Weak connection. But finally the image appeared.

Claire Morrison. My real mother. Sitting in what looked like a hotel room.

"If you're watching this," she said on screen, "then I'm probably dead."

My heart broke hearing her voice for the first time.

"My name is Claire Morrison. FBI Agent. But more importantly, I'm a mother. Your mother."

Tears rolled down my cheeks. David's arm went around me.

"I don't know what name they'll give you. But in my heart, you'll always be Hope. Because you represent hope for a better world."

Hope. That's why the password worked.

"I'm recording this three days before my due date. If something happens to me, I want you to know the truth."

The video flickered. Bad connection.

"Your father is Enzo Rossi. Yes, he's a criminal. But he's not evil. He loves deeply. Protects fiercely. I fell in love with him while undercover. Real love."

David squeezed my hand. "She loved him."

"But someone in the FBI knows about us. About you. They're planning to use you as leverage against Enzo."

The video glitched again. When it came back, Claire looked scared.

"I can't let that happen. So I'm going into hiding after you're born. I'll fake my death if I have to. But I won't let them hurt you."

"Mom," I whispered to the screen.

"If you're watching this, then my plan failed. Someone found me. Someone killed me."

Claire leaned closer to the camera.

"But I left clues. Evidence. Hidden where only you can find it."

"Where?" I asked the screen.

"Use your gifts, Hope. You're smart like me. Good with computers like me. The warehouse where I die isn't random. Look deeper."

The video started breaking up. Static filled the screen.

"The person who kills me... they're close to our family. Someone we trust. Someone who—"

The video cut out.

"No!" I pounded the keyboard. "Come back!"

But the file was corrupted. The rest was gone.

"It's okay," David said. "We got the important part."

"The warehouse. She hid something there."

"Building 47 burned down. Whatever she hid is gone."

"No. She said to look deeper. What if she meant literally deeper?"

"Underground?"

"The basement. Or tunnels. Something that wouldn't burn."

David tried to stand. Winced in pain. "We're not going back there."

"We have to."

"Selena, half the city's looking for us. The warehouse district is crawling with cops and FBI."

"Then we go at night. When it's dark."

"With what backup? Morrison's missing. My contacts are dead. We're on our own."

"Good. That means we can trust each other."

David stared at me. "You really want to do this."

"I need to do this. She was my mother. She died protecting me. The least I can do is finish what she started."

"And if it's a trap?"

"Then we spring it together."

My phone rang. Unknown number. I almost didn't answer.

But something made me pick up.

"Hope."

The voice was familiar. But wrong somehow.

"Who is this?"

"Your mother. Your real mother."

"Claire's dead. I just watched her video."

"Did you? Or did you watch what someone wanted you to see?"

My heart stopped. "What do you mean?"

"The video you just watched. When was it made?"

I checked the file properties. "Three weeks before I was born."

"And when did I die?"

"Three months after I was born."

"So what happened in those three months, Hope?"

The question hit me like lightning. Claire had made the video before I was born. But she lived for three more months after.

"What happened during those months?" I asked.

"I learned who my real enemies were. And I made a plan."

"What plan?"

"To fake my death. Again. But this time, make it stick."

"You're alive?"

"I'm alive. And I'm coming home."

"Where are you?"

"Closer than you think. But Hope... don't trust Morrison."

"Why?"

"Because he's not your grandfather."

The phone went dead.

I stared at it. David was watching me with worried eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Everything we think we know is wrong."

"About what?"

"About Morrison. About Claire. About everything."

I pulled up the video file again. Studied the timestamp. The location data.

"David, this video wasn't made in a hotel room."

"Where was it made?"

"According to the metadata... FBI headquarters."

"So?"

"So Claire was making an official statement. For the record."

"About what?"

I dug deeper into the file code. Hidden data. Encrypted messages.

"Oh my God."

"What?"

"Claire wasn't just FBI. She was Internal Affairs."

"What's that mean?"

"She wasn't investigating my father. She was investigating the FBI."

David sat down hard. "A mole hunt."

"Someone in the FBI was working with the mafia. Claire was trying to find out who."

"And someone killed her for it."

"Someone with access to FBI files. Someone who could arrange meetings. Someone who could make people disappear."

"Morrison."

I shook my head. "No. Someone higher up."

"How much higher?"

Before I could answer, the lights went out.

Emergency lighting kicked in. Red. Eerie.

"David?"

"I'm here."

Footsteps in the hallway outside. Multiple people. Moving fast.

"Time to go," David said.

But when I reached for the computer, the screen was black. The hard drive was wiping itself.

"Someone's triggered a remote delete," I said.

"From where?"

"From inside this building."

The footsteps stopped outside our door.

"They're here," David whispered.

A voice called through the door. Professional. Calm.

"Agent Chen. Open up. FBI."

But I recognized that voice.

It was Director Walsh.

And he wasn't here to help us.

"David," I whispered. "The window."

"Too high."

"Then we fight."

"With what? I'm half-dead and you're unarmed."

The door started to shake. Someone was breaking it down.

"Selena," David said quietly. "Whatever happens, remember this."

"What?"

"Your mother loved you enough to die for you. Twice."

The door exploded inward.

Director Walsh walked in with six agents. All guns drawn.

"Hello, Hope," he said. "Time to come home."

"My name is Selena."

"No. Your name is Hope Morrison. And you're under arrest."

"For what?"

Walsh smiled. The same cold smile I'd seen too many times today.

"For the murder of Claire Morrison. Twenty-six years ago."

"That's impossible. I was a baby."

"Were you?"

He pulled out a birth certificate. Official. Government sealed.

"According to this, Hope Morrison was born six months before Claire died. Not three months after."

David stepped in front of me. "She's not going anywhere."

"David Stone. Also under arrest. For conspiracy to commit murder."

"What conspiracy?"

"The conspiracy to frame innocent people for crimes you both committed."

Walsh raised his gun.

"The truth is, Hope Morrison killed her own mother. And David Stone helped cover it up."

"That's insane!"

"Is it? A baby killer trained by the mob. A child assassin. It's the perfect weapon."

"I was three months old!"

"You were three years old. The birth certificate was changed. Your memories were altered."

"By who?"

Walsh's smile grew wider.

"By me."