"But he had money. He had influence. And you knew he was my father."
"Yes."
"Did you ever intend to tell me?"
Rebecca's silence was answer enough.
Colton looked down at the tattoo on his arm.
The three curved lines.
The eight-pointed star.
The symbol of a family.
He had once thought it represented love.
Now he wondered whether it had also represented ownership.
A child could be protected because someone loved them.
A child could also be protected because someone believed they belonged to them.
The difference was not always visible from the outside.
"We need to know what happened at those clinics," Colton said.
Darren nodded.
"That means the archive becomes even more important."
Mara looked toward the door.
"And it means we cannot allow Arthur to choose the time and place of every conversation."
Colton put his phone away.
"Then we don't wait until tomorrow."
Darren studied him.
"What are you proposing?"
"We go to the research station today. We verify the tunnel. We secure the archive. We contact the investigators before Arthur has a chance to move anything."
"That could be exactly what he expects."
"Then we make sure he expects the wrong thing."
Rebecca looked at her son.
For the first time that morning, there was something like pride in her expression.
Colton did not welcome it.
He had spent too many years seeking approval from people whose judgment he no longer trusted.
"Before we go anywhere," he said, "we call the authorities."
Darren nodded.
"I have a contact in the federal prosecutor's office. Someone Nora trusted."
"Can they be trusted now?"
"I believe so. But we'll verify the connection before we share the full evidence."
Mara folded the map.
"And Lila?"
Colton's expression changed.
"She stays somewhere safe."
"With me," Mara said.
"With both of us," Colton replied.
Mara looked at him, and something unspoken passed between them.
She had raised Lila as her own child, protecting her through years of uncertainty. Colton did not intend to take that away from her.
But he was not going to remain a stranger to his daughter, either.
They would have to find a way to make room for both truths.
Darren made two calls from the parking area. He spoke in short sentences, giving only the information necessary to establish contact with the prosecutor's office. He refused to send the full file electronically until the recipient's identity had been confirmed through a separate channel.
While he worked, Colton walked around the side of the observatory.
The wind had strengthened. Dust drifted across the gravel, and the red cliffs beyond the trees were beginning to glow beneath the rising sun.
He heard footsteps behind him.
Rebecca stopped a few feet away.
"Can we talk?"
Colton did not turn.
"We've been talking all morning."
"Not about this."
He looked at her.
"What is left?"
She seemed to struggle with the answer.
"Your childhood."
Colton almost laughed.
"Now you want to talk about my childhood?"
"I know how that sounds."
"Do you?"
She nodded.
"I know you have every reason to believe that nothing I say can be trusted. But there are things about those years that were real, even if the circumstances around them were not."
Colton crossed his arms.
"Go on."
Rebecca looked toward the distant mountains.
"When you were born, I held you in a hospital room with a broken air conditioner and a window that wouldn't close. You were so small that I was afraid to let go of you. Arthur came to see me that evening. He told me he could give you a life without limits. He spoke about private schools, opportunities, a future that would never be restricted by money."
She paused.
"I told him that if he wanted to give you something, he could give you the truth. He refused."
"Then why did you stay connected to him?"
"Because I believed I could use his resources without allowing him to control us. I was wrong."
"That's a familiar theme."
"Yes."
She looked at him.
"Samuel loved you. He knew you might not be his biological son, but he chose to raise you. He was there when you took your first steps. He stayed awake when you had pneumonia. He taught you to ride a bicycle. He held you when your grandfather died. Those things were real."
Colton felt a painful pressure in his chest.
"Then he disappeared."
"Yes."
"And you lied."
"Yes."
"And Mara spent years looking for him."
Rebecca's eyes filled.
"Yes."
He looked away.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I don't want you to believe that every memory you have is false."
Colton was silent.
He remembered Samuel teaching him how to change a tire in the driveway. He remembered his father's hands, stained with grease, guiding his own around the wrench. He remembered Samuel telling him that a person could lose everything except the choices they made when no one was watching.