CHAPTER 11

Elena

The early morning air was sharp against my skin as I stepped out onto the balcony of Marcus's safe house. The sun struggled to rise, its pale rays casting long shadows across the city. For a moment, I allowed myself to breathe, to take in the quiet before the chaos inevitably found its way back to me.

Marcus was already awake, his presence unmistakable even in the stillness. He leaned against the balcony railing a few feet away, his coffee steaming in the cool air. His silence wasn't new, but this morning, it felt heavier. Like he was waiting for me to say something—or maybe he was deciding what to say himself.

I turned to him, my voice cutting through the quiet. "You knew my mother was involved all along, didn't you?"

His jaw tightened. It wasn't an outright admission, but it was enough.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I pressed, my tone sharper than I intended. "You let me walk into that meeting blind. She—" I paused, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. "She's not just part of this. She's the one pulling the strings."

"I didn't want to overwhelm you," he said finally, his voice low. "You were already dealing with enough, and I thought... I thought it'd be better if you heard it from her."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Well, that went brilliantly, didn't it?"

His expression softened, guilt etched into every line of his face. "Elena, I was wrong. I see that now. But this isn't just about Isabel. There's more going on here than even you realize."

I folded my arms, staring out at the city. "Then tell me. No more half-truths, Marcus. If you want me to trust you, you need to start trusting me."

He hesitated for a long moment, the weight of his decision evident. Then, with a sigh, he spoke.

"Your father wasn't just working on some project. He was building something—something powerful. A database, encrypted and protected, filled with information on everyone your mother and her associates have ever dealt with. Politicians, businessmen, even law enforcement. He wanted to expose them, Elena. To bring down the entire operation."

My stomach churned. "And they killed him for it."

Marcus nodded. "He got too close. He underestimated how far they'd go to protect themselves. Isabel... she stepped in after his death, but not to continue his work. She used it. Twisted it to her advantage."

I clenched the balcony railing, my knuckles white. "So that's why they think I have something. They think he left it with me."

"He might have," Marcus said carefully. "Or maybe you're the key to finding it. Either way, they won't stop until they get what they're after."

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Marcus showed me more of my father's files, the fragments he had managed to recover. Names, dates, transactions—it was overwhelming. Every piece of information painted a clearer picture of the empire my mother had built, and every revelation made me feel smaller, more insignificant.

But I couldn't afford to be small anymore.

By midday, I had made a decision. I turned to Marcus, my voice steady. "We need to find it. Whatever my father left behind, it's the only way to end this."

He frowned. "Elena, it's not that simple. Even if we find it, using it is a different story. These people have resources, connections—"

"I don't care," I interrupted. "They've already taken so much from me. My father. My brother. My life. I'm done hiding, Marcus. I need to do this."

He studied me for a long moment, his gaze searching mine. Then, with a nod, he said, "All right. But if we're doing this, we need to be smart about it. No rushing in blind."

That evening, we started piecing together a plan. Marcus had contacts—people who could help us track down the database and protect us once we had it. But every step of the plan felt like walking a tightrope, the risk of falling growing with each move.

"Do you think Isabel knows where it is?" I asked as we reviewed the files again.

"She might," Marcus said. "But if she does, she's keeping it to herself. My guess is she's looking for it too. And if she finds it first—"

"She won't," I said firmly. "We won't let her."

As the night wore on, exhaustion began to set in. But sleep was the last thing on my mind. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my mother's face, her voice echoing in my ears. *You don't understand the game you're playing.*

Maybe I didn't. But I was learning.

I stood by the window, staring out at the darkened city. Marcus joined me a moment later, his presence grounding me in a way I couldn't explain.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice soft.

I nodded, though the truth was far more complicated. "I'm scared," I admitted. "But I can't let that stop me."

"You're stronger than you think," he said. "You've already proven that."

I turned to him, searching his face. "Why are you still here, Marcus? After everything, why are you helping me?"

He hesitated, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting mine again. "Because I owe you. And because... I believe in you, Elena. I always have."

His words hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken meaning. I wanted to believe him, to let his confidence in me bolster my own. But trust was a fragile thing, and ours had been shattered too many times.

Still, as I looked into his eyes, I felt a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, we could make this work. Together.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to hope.