Chapter 7 - The ArchitectMatthew took us to a farmhouse outside Milwaukee.
There, he finally told us the truth.
“Our mother isn't the Architect.”
I stared at him.
“Then who is?”
Matthew looked at Claire.
“Elliot Graves.”
I shook my head.
“He was shot.”
“Because he wanted out.”
“Michael worked for him.”
“Yes.”
“What about our mother?”
“She built the original network. Elliot inherited it after she disappeared.”
I looked toward Lily.
“What does he want?”
“Control.”
“Of what?”
“Everything.”
Matthew explained that Elliot had spent years moving money through Carter Holdings.
He had deliberately created financial problems, manipulated contracts, and positioned himself to eventually take control.
But Claire had discovered the transfers.
That was why she had become a target.
“Why didn't Elliot simply kill her?”
Matthew answered quietly.
“Because he needed you.”
“For what?”
“Your signature.”
I understood.
The missing documents.
The trusts.
The companies.
The accounts.
He didn't want me dead.
He wanted me legally discredited.
If I were accused of fraud, Carter Holdings could be placed under external control.
Elliot would become the obvious successor.
“And Michael?”
“Michael was the muscle.”
I looked at Claire.
She reached for my hand.
It was the first time she had touched me voluntarily since leaving.
I held her fingers gently.
“I am sorry.”
“I know.”
“No excuses.”
“I don't want excuses.”
“I want to earn back your trust.”
She looked at me.
“Then start by surviving this.”
A phone rang.
Matthew answered.
His face changed.
“Elliot has Lily's medical records.”
My blood ran cold.
“How?”
“Someone at the hospital sold them.”
I stood.
“Where is he?”
Matthew shook his head.
“He sent a message.”
“What message?”
Matthew handed me the phone.
A photograph appeared.
Lily's blanket.
On top of it was a note.
BRING DANIEL ALONE.
Claire grabbed my arm.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“I won't go alone.”
The next message appeared.
COME TO THE OLD CARTER WAREHOUSE BY MIDNIGHT.
OR YOUR DAUGHTER DISAPPEARS.
May you like
The clock showed 11:12.
We had forty-eight minutes.
