Chapter 10 - The True Architect
The absolute horror in Caroline's words completely paralyzed me in the doorway of the warehouse.
My father had supposedly died of a massive heart attack three years before the pier explosion even happened.
I held Caroline tightly by her shoulders, looking deeply into her frantic, terrified eyes.
"Caroline, my father has been dead for eight years," I said gently, trying to ground her in reality.
"No, Grant, I saw him," she wept uncontrollably. "He was the one who pulled us from the burning wreckage, and he is the one who took our daughter away."
My newly restored vision suddenly felt entirely useless as a profound, terrifying darkness settled permanently over my soul.
The entire brutal syndicate war, the blinding drops, the massive betrayal—it was all just a distraction orchestrated by the true architect of my suffering.
The real mastermind had always been the very man who taught me how to ruthlessly rule this city.
I pulled out my phone and dialed the number of the only safe house my father had ever truly trusted.
The line rang exactly three times before a cold, familiar voice answered the call.
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"It took you entirely too long to open your eyes, my son," the old man whispered.
I crushed the phone violently in my hand, realizing this brutal war had not ended; it had only just begun.
