It showed my mother, elegant in a pearl necklace, standing over Mia in the kitchen. Mia was crying. My mother was holding a lit cigarette. She deliberately pressed it into Mia’s hand.
‘Stop crying,’ my mother said in the video, her voice calm. ‘You’re ruining the merchandise. If you have bruises on your face, we won’t be able to take photos for the brochure.’
The ballroom erupted. Shouts. Exclamations. People dropped their glasses. The senator looked like he was about to vomit.
Arthur turned to the technical booth, shouting, his face contorted with rage. ‘Turn it off! Get rid of it now!’
I went out onto the balcony overlooking the ballroom. I was covered in snow. My suit was torn. I looked like a ghost.
‘You can’t turn off the truth, Father!’ I shouted. My voice echoed off the vaulted ceiling.
Every head turned towards me.
‘Liam!’ my mother screamed, pointing at me with a trembling hand. ‘He’s crazy! He hacked the system! He’s lying!’
‘Look at the screen!’ I shouted.
A list appeared on the final image. Children who had been ‘liquidated.’ Sarah. David. The dates of their deaths coincided perfectly with the dates of large insurance payouts.
‘Murderers!’ shouted a woman from the crowd.
Chief Miller, who was standing at the bar, realised the game was over. He pulled out his service weapon. He didn’t point it at Arthur. He pointed it at me.
‘He’s armed!’ Miller shouted, trying to justify himself. ‘He has a detonator! Everyone on the floor!’
He raised his gun. I didn’t move. I didn’t flinch.
‘Shoot, Miller,’ I said. ‘But maybe you should look at the door first.’
The main doors of the ballroom swung open.
It wasn’t the local police.
It was the SWAT team. And behind them stood men in windbreakers with yellow letters: FBI.
I didn’t just call the hotline. I sent the entire data dump to the Federal Bureau of Crimes thirty minutes ago.
‘Federal agents!’ a voice boomed. “Drop your weapons! Now!”
Miller froze. Red laser dots danced on his chest. He slowly lowered his weapon.
Arthur Sterling tried to run. He really tried to run into the kitchen. Two agents pulled him down before he took five steps. He hit the marble floor with a satisfying crunch.
My mother remained motionless, staring at me. There was no regret in her eyes. There was hatred.
‘I gave you everything,’ she whispered as she was handcuffed.
‘You gave me nothing,’ I replied, watching from the balcony. ‘You just rented my soul. And the lease is up.’
Part 5: The Fall of an Empire
The arrest was chaotic and absolute.
The FBI confiscated everything. Computers, files, safes. They found cash hidden in the walls. They found passports prepared for escape.
I descended the grand staircase as my father was led away. He kicked and screamed, spitting at the agents.
‘I’m Arthur Sterling! I own this town! You can’t touch me!’
‘You’re a child murderer,’ said the chief agent calmly. ‘And you don’t own anything.’
I walked past him. I didn’t look at him. I walked out the front door into the snow.
The flashing lights of twenty police cars lit up the night. Paramedics were helping guests who had fainted.
I headed for the woods. One agent tried to stop me.
‘Sir, we need a statement.’
‘Later,’ I said.
I walked to the car. I opened the door.
Mia was sitting there, clutching her phone tightly. When she saw me, she rushed into my arms.
‘Is it all over?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ I said, hugging her tightly. ‘The monsters are in their cages.’
Later that night at the FBI office, a female agent sat with us. She was kind. She brought blankets and pizza.
‘We found something else in the safe, Liam,’ she said softly. She pushed a file across the table.
I opened it. It was my adoption papers. And Mia’s.
I quickly scanned the documents. My breath caught in my throat.
‘Confirmed biological relationship,’ the document read.
I looked at the agent. ‘What?’
‘You are brother and sister,’ she said. “Biologically. Your parents… your real parents… died in a car accident when you were sixteen and she was one month old. The Sterlings used their connections. They separated you. They placed you in different foster homes so they could adopt you separately years later. Two adoptions meant two subsidies. Two payments.”
I looked at Mia. She was eating a slice of pizza, unaware of anything.
She wasn’t just some random child I had saved. She was my blood. My sister. They had stolen her from me and then sold her back to me as a stranger.
I reached out and touched her hair. It was the same colour as mine. Her eyes… they were my mother’s eyes. My real mother’s.
The tears finally came. Not for the Sterligovs. For the lost years.
Part 6: Warm Winter
One year later
The flat was small, but it smelled of real pine, not expensive perfume.
It was Christmas.
There were no guests. No senators. No champagne. Just me, Mia, and the crooked tree we had chosen together.