Chapter 18: Inside Secrets

The gloom was oppressive. I was having trouble breathing. There was a strong, metallic smell in the air that I couldn't quite identify. I stood motionless as my chest constricted and my heart roared in my ears. I didn't know what was going on or where I was. I felt as though the world was spinning around me, confused and disoriented.

I felt my fingers on the moist, chilly surface of what I knew to be a concrete wall. As I extended my hand further, searching for a window or door—anything that might provide me with a hint as to my location—a shiver went down my spine.

I compelled myself to relax. No, I was unable to panic. Not right now. I needed to understand what was happening and what Williams was attempting to shield me from.

Then I recalled—the black-clad man. The man with the mask who had suddenly materialised and left me unconscious. He had come for me, but why? What was going on? I wasn't sure if I was prepared for the answers to all of my enquiries.

Long shadows extended across the room as a tiny, weak light flashed on overhead. I adjusted to the shift by blinking. Other than a plain wooden chair in the middle, the room was empty. I couldn't tell if it was there to make me feel more vulnerable or if it was even for me. In any case, with unsteady legs, I walked towards it.

Trying to collect my thoughts, I sat down. Everything had to make sense to me. The last few days had been filled with deception, treachery, and manipulation. I had lost my sense of trust after being trapped in a web of lies and power.

What did Williams conceal? And what had he gotten me and himself into?

I tensed up as the door creaked open, automatically preparing myself for whatever might happen next. My breath froze in my throat as a stranger entered the room.

He was the one. The black-clad man. Even though the mask was still on his face, his posture and confidence were clear. He wasn't scared to demonstrate that he knew exactly what he was doing.

"You're awake," he murmured in a silky, almost derisive, voice. "I was starting to think you’d sleep through all of this."

I remained silent. I was unable to. My thoughts were racing, but I was at a loss for words to describe my emotions. Fear, bewilderment, and anger. Inside of me, a whirlpool of emotions swirled.

"What do you want?" At last, I spoke it in a firm yet tremulous voice. "What have you done to me?"

The man gave a sinister, low laugh. "Done with you? Oh, absolutely nothing. Simply said, you are a part of a larger picture. Think of it as a game. You've already lost the game.”

My heart skipped a beat as I tensed up. "Which game? "What do you mean?"

"You’ll find out soon enough," he said in a mysterious way. "But for the time being, you must comprehend something. For far too long, you have been a pawn. It's time you discovered the reality of who you truly are.”

Like a slap across the face, the words struck me. My heartbeat accelerated, and my brain was having trouble keeping up.

"What are you talking about?" My question was hardly audible above a whisper. "Who am I?"

He moved in closer, looming over me as the room's shadows grew deeper. "You don’t know yet, do you?" he asked in a tone that was almost tender, as if he were addressing a young kid. They haven't told you who you really are. Your actual family. what your true goal is in all of this."

My hands began to shake, and my breath stuck in my throat. What did he say? The words were difficult for my mind to process. Was it the Harringtons he was referring to? My adoption? I had never suspected this, because everything I had been taught about my history had always been veiled in mystery.

"You’re not who you think you are, Freda," the man went on, his voice becoming icier-sounding. "Your adoption wasn't a coincidence. It was a strategy. A strategy that has been in place for many years. A scheme involving far more influential people than you can think of."

I was unable to talk. The weight of his words was pressing down on me like a physical force, and my throat had constricted. There was too much to process.

His eyes pierced me as he watched me for a time. Then suddenly he reached into his coat pocket and took out a large folder that was red wax-secured.

As he set the folder on the chair next me and moved it gently in my direction, I felt my heart quicken.

"Take it," he stated in a stern but icy tone. "Everything is contained there. The real story of your family. the reality of your history. You've had enough of being in the dark. It's time for you to discover your true self.”

Uncertain whether I really wanted to open the folder, I grabbed for it with trembling hands. What if it held the solutions I was looking for? Or worse, what if it disproved everything I believed to be true?

I cracked the seal and opened the folder with shaking fingers.

There were papers within. Pages upon pages of official signatures, dates, and names. But what really chilled me was the picture on top. I didn't recognise the woman in the photo, but she was holding a small child in her arms. I was the child. However, the women

I let out a gasp.

My adopted mother was not the woman in the picture.

I had never seen anyone like her before. Someone I couldn't place but who had an unsettlingly similar appearance.

The man in black continued, "This is your mother," in a voice that was almost too soft. "What about that kid? That's you, Freda.”

I gazed at the picture, my head spinning. As I stumbled, "But… this doesn’t make sense,". "Who is she? Why didn't I hear about her?”

The man remarked, "Ah, that’s where things get interesting," with a little smirk peeking out from under the mask. "You were born into a strong organisation to which your biological mother had connections. What about the Harringtons? It was them that arranged for your adoption. There's a reason they took you away from her.”

With my mind racing, I shook my head. "No, this isn't possible. That isn't logical.”

"It’s all there," he remarked in a low, demanding voice. "All you need to do is read the paperwork. The real story of your ancestry. the reality of your own self."

I turned the pages of the documents gently, looking at each one. It became evident as I read more. This was more than just an enigmatic adoption. It was something far more intricate—much riskier. I had known a family, but they weren't the ones who had really influenced my life. The individuals who had brought me up were only one part of a much larger plan.

Then I noticed it.

A moniker.

The name of my true father.

My heart stopped beating.

That was a name I recognised.

I had heard the name mentioned in whispers, a name that was linked to corruption and authority. A name associated with a continent-spanning empire.

It was the name of a guy who had never been associated with the Harringtons in public, yet there was no denying his connection to them.

I had never suspected who my real father was. And suddenly, I realized I was caught in a situation that was much more dangerous than I had ever imagined.

I held the packet with my shaking hands and looked up at the man. "This—this is not possible. Tell me that this is untrue.”

He took a while to reply. Rather, he stepped forward slowly, his mask hanging over my face.

"You wanted the truth, Freda," he continued in a menacingly low voice. "Well, now you’ve got it."

And as the realisation weighed heavily on me, I came to one horrifying realisation:

There was no going back.