My name.
That was all Adrian’s father said.
But the way he said it made my entire body go cold.
My father stepped forward.
—Don’t.
Adrian’s father looked at him.
—You can’t hide her forever, Daniel.
—I’m not hiding her.
—You’ve been hiding her for six years.
My mother moved closer to me.
—Sophia, stay behind me.
I shook my head.
—No.
Everyone looked at me.
I was tired of standing behind people.
Tired of being protected.
Tired of secrets.
—I’m done being the only person who doesn’t know what’s happening.
Adrian’s father studied me.
Then he sighed.
—You deserve the truth.
My father immediately said: —No.
I turned toward him.
—Yes.
He went silent.
Adrian stepped beside me.
—Tell us.
His father looked at him.
—You won’t like it.
—I’ve stopped expecting to.
For the first time, Adrian’s father looked almost proud.
—You’re more like your mother than you realize.
Adrian’s expression hardened.
—Don’t talk about her.
His father ignored him.
He looked at me.
—Your mother wasn’t simply part of the organization.
My mother closed her eyes.
—Victor already told her.
—Not everything.
He turned toward Daniel.
—You never told her the most important part.
My father didn’t respond.
Adrian’s father continued.
—The organization wasn’t created to control memories.
I frowned.
—Then what was it created for?
—To protect secrets.
—Whose secrets?
—Powerful families.
I felt sick.
—The Blackwoods?
—The Blackwoods were one of many.
He paused.
—Your father discovered that the organization had existed for decades.
My mother whispered: —And I helped build it.
I looked at her.
—Why?
She looked at me.
—Because I believed I was protecting people.
—From what?
—From the truth.
I almost laughed.
—Everyone keeps saying that like the truth is dangerous.
My father looked at me.
—Sometimes it is.
Adrian’s father reached into his coat.
Adrian immediately tensed.
—What are you doing?
He pulled out a photograph.
He handed it to me.
I stared at it.
It showed my mother.
She was much younger.
Beside her was another woman.
I recognized her.
She was the woman from the old photograph.
The one I had never known.
—Who is she?
My mother answered.
—My sister.
I looked at her.
—You have a sister?
She nodded.
—Her name was Clara.
—Was?
My mother looked away.
—She died twenty years ago.
Adrian’s father continued: —Clara was the first person who tried to destroy the organization.
My heart tightened.
—And she failed?
—She disappeared.
I looked at the photograph again.
—What does this have to do with me?
Nobody answered.
Then Adrian’s father said: —Clara was your grandmother.
I froze.
—What?
My mother nodded.
—She was my mother.
Adrian looked at me.
—Sophia…
I couldn’t speak.
My family had been connected to this for generations.
My father.
My mother.
My grandmother.
The Blackwoods.
The organization.
Everything.
Adrian’s father continued: —Your grandmother discovered the memory system.
—The system my mother created?
—Yes.
My mother shook her head.
—She wanted to destroy it.
—But you didn’t.
—No.
She looked at me.
—I was afraid.
My father stepped closer.
—And that’s why Clara disappeared.
I looked at him.
—What happened to her?
He hesitated.
—We never found her.
I frowned.
—Then how do you know she died?
My mother looked at the floor.
—Because she left something behind.
I knew immediately.
—The file.
My father nodded.
—The original file.
Adrian’s father looked at me.
—And that’s what everyone has been searching for.
I swallowed.
—Where is it?
Nobody answered.
I looked at Adrian.
He shook his head.
—Don’t.
—Why?
—Because we’re finally getting close to something my father has spent years trying to find.
I looked at his father.
—You want the file.
He nodded.
—Yes.
—Why?
He looked at Daniel.
—Because it contains proof of what happened to Clara.
My mother looked up.
—You knew?
—Not everything.
—Then why didn’t you tell me?
Adrian’s father looked at her.
—Because your sister’s disappearance was connected to my family.
The room fell silent.
I looked at my mother.
She looked devastated.
—How?
He didn’t answer.
My father did.
—Clara discovered that someone inside the Blackwoods had been selling information to the organization.
Adrian frowned.
—Who?
My father looked at his father.
Adrian followed his gaze.
—You?
His father shook his head.
—No.
—Then who?
Silence.
My mother whispered: —Your grandfather.
Adrian’s face changed.
—My grandfather?
—Yes.
He looked stunned.
—But he died before I was born.
—Exactly.
I looked around the room.
There were too many dead people in this story.
Too many people who couldn’t answer for themselves.
My father walked toward the center of the theater.
—Clara discovered the truth and tried to expose him.
—And what happened?
—She disappeared.
—And my mother?
—She stayed.
I looked at my mother.
—Why?
She looked at me.
—Because I was pregnant with you.
My heart stopped.
—Me?
She nodded.
—Your grandmother wanted me to take you and leave the country.
—But you didn’t.
—Daniel convinced me to stay.
I looked at my father.
—Why?
He answered quietly: —Because I believed I could protect both of you.
Adrian’s father gave a bitter laugh.
—And you almost did.
My father glared at him.
—Until you came after her.
—Not me.
His father looked at Adrian.
—Him.
Adrian froze.
—What?
His father pointed toward him.
—You were the one who led them to Sophia.
Adrian’s expression changed.
—That’s not true.
My father stepped forward.
—Don’t listen to him.
But Adrian’s father continued.
—You were sixteen.
Adrian shook his head.
—I never told anyone where she was.
—You didn’t have to.
—Then how?
His father looked at me.
—Sophia trusted Adrian.
I frowned.
—What does that have to do with anything?
—She told him everything.
Adrian looked at me.
—You told me?
I shook my head.
—I don’t remember.
His father smiled.
—Exactly.
A terrible thought entered my mind.
—My memories were erased after I told Adrian something.
Adrian’s expression changed.
—What did you tell me?
My father answered.
—Where the file was.
I stared at him.
—No.
—You remembered where Daniel had hidden it.
—And I told Adrian?
—Yes.
Adrian shook his head.
—Then why don’t I remember?
My father looked at him.
—Because you asked me to erase your memory too.
Adrian froze.
—What?
—You didn’t want to know where it was.
Adrian looked at me.
I could see the confusion in his eyes.
For once, we were equally lost.
Then a memory flashed through my mind.
Adrian and me.
Sitting on the floor.
Both of us crying.
He was holding my hand.
—If I forget, will she be safe?
My father’s voice.
—Yes.
Adrian nodded.
—Then make me forget.
I gasped.
—You chose to forget.
Adrian looked at me.
—I don’t remember that.
—Neither do I.
My father nodded.
—That was the point.
I looked at him.
—Then why am I remembering now?
He didn’t answer.
Adrian’s father did.
—Because someone removed the block.
I turned.
—Who?
He looked at me.
—Your mother.
My mother shook her head.
—No.
—Yes.
—Why would I do that?
—Because you realized Daniel was wrong.
My father stared at her.
—What did you do?
My mother looked at me.
Tears ran down her face.
—I didn’t remove your memories.
She paused.
—I restored them.
I felt a strange calm.
—Why?
She stepped toward me.
—Because I finally understood something.
—What?
She looked at Daniel.
—Keeping you safe meant keeping you ignorant.
Then she looked at me.
—And I don’t want you to live like that anymore.
For the first time, I understood my mother.
She wasn’t asking me to forget.
She was asking me to choose.
I took a breath.
—Then I choose to remember.
The theater became silent.
My mother nodded.
—Then there’s one thing left.
—What?
She reached into her coat.
And pulled out a small silver key.
My heart stopped.
It wasn’t Martin’s key.
It wasn’t the key from my father’s box.
It looked older.
Different.
My mother placed it in my hand.
—Your grandmother left this for you.
I stared at it.
—What does it open?
My mother looked toward the floor.
—The place where Clara hid the original file.
Adrian stepped closer.
—Where?
My mother whispered: —Under Westbridge University.
I stared at her.
—The university?
She nodded.
—Your grandmother hid everything beneath the place where the organization first began.
My father looked toward the theater doors.
—We have to leave.
Adrian’s father shook his head.
—No.
Everyone turned.
He looked at me.
—You can’t go there.
—Why?
His expression became serious.
—Because the people who built the organization are already waiting for you.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
He listened.
His face changed.
—What happened?
He didn’t speak for several seconds.
Then he looked at me.
—Someone has opened the university archive.
My stomach tightened.
—Who?
He ended the call.
—Nobody knows.
Adrian moved closer.
—Then how did they get in?
His father looked at him.
—They didn’t break in.
He looked at me.
—The door opened from the inside.
I stared at the silver key in my hand.
And suddenly, it began to glow beneath my fingers.
My father’s face went pale.
—Sophia…
I looked up.
—What?
He whispered: —That’s not a key.
The silver object warmed in my palm.
A tiny symbol appeared on its surface.
The same symbol I had seen in my memories.
My father took a step back.
—It’s a memory seal.
I stared at it.
Then a voice whispered inside my head.
Not my father’s.
Not Adrian’s.
A girl’s voice.
Young.
Frightened.
Sophia, if you’re hearing me, don’t open the door.
I froze.
Because I recognized the voice.
It was mine.
And the memory continued: Your father is not the person you think he is.