He stopped.
“I gave you everything,” he said.
“No. You gave Evelyn expectations. You gave me leftovers.”
My mother shook her head.
“That isn’t true.”
“It is all true!” Celeste shouted. “Every dinner was about Evelyn’s grades. Every party was about Evelyn’s future. Dad wanted her to inherit the company. You wanted her to marry into the right family. I was the pretty one you displayed when she refused to cooperate.”
I stared at her.
For most of our lives, I had believed Celeste was the favorite.
Apparently, Celeste had believed the same about me.
Our father had not raised daughters.
He had raised competitors.
“Celeste,” I said carefully, “you can still walk away from the fuel controls.”
“And spend my life in a military prison?”
“You caused the fire.”
“I built an empire.”
“On bodies.”
Her hand trembled.
Only slightly.
I looked at the metal case near her feet.
Several drives were visible inside.
She followed my gaze.
“These contain every contract, payment, buyer, and government contact involved in the network,” she said. “Half the men upstairs would rather die than let those files become public.”
“That is why you came to the gala,” I realized. “You planned to remove the last physical evidence while everyone who could identify you was gathered upstairs.”
“I planned to leave before you arrived.”
“My invitation was anonymous.”
Celeste’s smile faded.
I turned toward my father.
“You sent it.”
He did not deny it.
My mother stared at him.
Richard Harrington lowered his eyes.
“Six weeks ago, I discovered executive transfers I had never approved,” he said. “When I investigated, I found Evelyn’s name connected to several accounts.”
“You believed I was involved?” I asked.
“I did not know what to believe.”
“So you invited me here without warning me?”
“I needed to see your reaction.”
A bitter laugh escaped me.
“Even when you needed my help, you turned it into a test.”
“I was wrong.”
It was the first time I had ever heard my father say those words.
Celeste’s finger tightened on the trigger.
“This family confession is touching, but we are finished.”
I watched her breathing.
Fast.
Shallow.
She was cornered and losing control.
I remembered another corridor filled with smoke. Another moment when panic could kill everyone.
“Celeste,” I said, softening my voice. “You are right about one thing.”
She frowned.
“Dad made us compete for everything. His attention. His approval. The company. Even Mother’s affection.”
My father flinched.
I kept my focus on Celeste.
“I spent years hating you because I thought you enjoyed watching them break me.”
“I did enjoy it.”
“I know.”
Her face hardened.
“But you hated me before I ever left,” I continued, “because you thought I had something you did not.”
“You had everything.”
“I had nothing. I was terrified every day that one mistake would make them stop loving me.”
The pistol lowered by half an inch.
“And then they did,” I said.
The bunker became silent except for the alarm overhead.
“They erased me because I asked the wrong questions. You saw how easily they did it, and instead of realizing you might be next, you decided to become more useful than I had been.”
Celeste’s eyes glistened.
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know exactly what it costs to spend your life trying to earn love from people who only understand obedience.”
For one second, I saw my sister.
Not the woman who had exposed my scars.
Not the criminal who had burned a naval vessel.
The little girl who once stood outside our father’s office holding a drawing he never looked at.
Then my father moved.
He lunged toward the pistol.
Celeste screamed.
The weapon fired.
The bullet struck the metal wall.
Admiral Reed tackled my father aside as I drove into Celeste. We crashed against the fuel controls.
Her elbow struck my ribs.
Pain exploded through my side.
She clawed at my scarred back, tearing away the admiral’s jacket.
I trapped her wrist and forced the pistol toward the floor.
She kicked my knee.
The gun fired again.
This time the bullet shattered the incinerator’s emergency pipe.
White suppressant foam erupted across the room.
Celeste slipped.
I twisted the pistol from her hand and threw it toward the investigators.
They rushed forward, pinning her arms behind her.
For several seconds, no one spoke.
Celeste knelt in the foam, her gown ruined, her hair covering her face.
Then she began to laugh.
Admiral Reed retrieved the metal case.
“You are finished,” he told her.
Celeste looked up at me.
“No. She is.”
The admiral opened the case.
His expression changed.
The drives were gone.
The slots were empty.
Only a small digital transmitter remained inside.
Its screen displayed a completed upload.
100%.
