Chapter 10: My Mother's Warning
“Nia, if you’re watching this, it means they found you.””
My mother's voice filled the room.
Dad stopped breathing.
I forgot how.
For four years, my memories of Mom had been fragments.
Her humming while she cooked.
The smell of lavender lotion.
Her hand squeezing mine before my first middle-school presentation.
But this wasn't a memory.
She was moving.
Blinking.
Looking directly into the camera.
Looking at me.
The date in the corner was six weeks before she died.
Dad reached toward the screen.
“Amara…”
Mom took a breath.
“I don't know how old you'll be when you see this. Maybe sixteen. Maybe twenty-six. Maybe you'll never see it, and I hope that's what happens.””
My knees weakened.
Nathan lowered his head.
Mom continued.
“Project Merit began as an idea your father would have hated.””
Dad looked toward Nathan.
Nathan didn't move.
“The original proposal was simple,” Mom said.
“Identify students with limited resources but extraordinary potential, then provide support without interfering with their choices.””
I frowned.
That didn't sound evil.
Then Mom's expression hardened.
“Samuel Vale changed it.””
Samuel's dark monitor reflected our faces.
“He argued that support corrupted the data. He wanted to know what happened when talented students faced artificial pressure.””
Dad whispered, “Why didn't you tell me?””
As if she had anticipated the question, Mom continued.
“Elijah, if you're watching too, you're probably angry that I kept this from you.””
Dad closed his eyes.
“I am.””
Mom almost smiled.
“You always were terrible at hiding anger.””
A sound escaped Dad.
Half laugh.
Half sob.
I'd never heard it before.
“I kept investigating because I needed proof. Not suspicion. Proof.””
Documents appeared beside her.
Payments.
Student profiles.
Internal messages.
Then a photograph of Samuel and Nathan.
“Samuel designed the system. Nathan gave him access.””
Nathan finally spoke.
“I didn't know what Samuel would do.””
Dad turned.
“You knew enough.””
Nathan flinched.
Mom continued.
“When I tried to shut Project Merit down, Samuel created backups outside the company network. I removed Nathan because I could no longer trust him.””
Nathan looked at me.
“She was right.””
Mom's face filled the screen again.
“But then Samuel became interested in you.””
My stomach tightened.
“He said you could answer the question no scholarship student could.””
“What question?”” I whispered.
Mom answered.
“Whether character comes from hardship or choice.””
Dad shook his head.
“You were a child.””
“I told him you were not data,” Mom said.
“You were my daughter.””
My eyes burned.
“He promised to remove your file.””
Nathan whispered, “He lied.””
Mom looked exhausted.
“If he ever activates your profile again, it means he has lost control of the project.””
She leaned toward the camera.
“Nia, listen carefully.””
I did.
“Do not try to prove you're strong.””
My throat tightened.
“You don't owe anyone a performance of your pain.””
Dad looked at me.
Mom continued.
“And don't let your father's name become either a shield or a shame.””
That hit harder than anything else.
For years, I had thought independence meant hiding who my father was.
Mom was telling me something different.
“Privilege is not character,” she said.
“Neither is poverty. What matters is what you do when you have a choice.””
I wiped my cheek.
Then Mom's expression changed.
“There is one more thing.””
The screen displayed a file name.
*M-ORIGINAL*
“If Project Merit survives me, this file will identify everyone who authorized it.””
Lena immediately moved to the computer.
“I'm searching.””
Mom looked into the camera one last time.
“Nia, I love you.””
My chest broke.
Dad reached for my hand.
“And Elijah…”
Mom smiled.
“Stop trying to prepare her for a world without you. Teach her how to live in the world beside you.””
The video ended.
Nobody spoke.
I stared at the black screen.
Then Lena cursed.
Dad turned.
“What?””
“M-ORIGINAL isn't here.””
Nathan looked up sharply.
“It should be.””
“It was removed.””
“When?””
Lena typed rapidly.
“Four years ago.””
Dad looked toward Nathan.
“Who accessed it?””
Lena's expression changed.
“The same administrator account.””
Samuel.
Nathan moved toward the computer.
“He kept it.””
“Where?””
“I don't know.””
I remembered something.
“The final test.””
Everyone looked at me.
“What about it?”” Dad asked.
“Samuel wanted me to choose power.””
“Yes.””
“What if this isn't finished?””
Lena frowned.
I continued.
“What if the file isn't hidden from us?””
Dad understood first.
“It's bait.””
A slow clap came from the building speakers.
Samuel's voice followed.
“Very good, Nia.””
Security officers looked upward.
Samuel laughed.
“Your mother took months to understand me.””
A printer behind us suddenly activated.
One sheet emerged.
Lena grabbed it.
An address.
Underneath were six words.
*COME ALONE AND CLAIM HER LEGACY.*
Dad tore the paper in half.
“No.””
I looked at him.
“Dad.””
“Absolutely not.””
Then my phone rang.
Samuel.
I answered before anyone could stop me.
“Nia,” he said.
“What do you want?””
“To finish what your mother started.””
“Where's the file?””
“At the address.””
“And if I don't come?””
Samuel paused.
Then said:
“Ask your father what happened to the original twenty-three students.””
Dad's face went white.
Samuel hung up.
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?””
Dad didn't answer.
May you like
Nathan did.
“It means Project Merit didn't start at Westbridge.””
