Chapter 5 Choices in the Basement

Chapter 5: Choices in the Basement

The tension in the room crystallized into something dangerous as Dean's unsteady gun shifted between Matt and me. His eyes were wild, pupils dilated—he was high on something, making him even more unpredictable.

"Put the gun down, son," Matt said, his voice unnaturally calm. "You're not thinking clearly."

"Oh, I'm thinking very clearly for the first time," Dean laughed, a brittle sound that raised the hairs on my neck. "You've been playing us all, haven't you? The great Matthew Williamson, always three steps ahead."

Antonio appeared confused by this new development, his own weapon still trained on Irene. "What is this? You working with the son now?"

"Dean is making a very poor decision," Matt replied, eyes never leaving his son. "One he'll regret momentarily."

Dean's laugh turned into something closer to a sob. "You think I don't know what you did? To Mom? To me? All these years pretending to be the perfect father while you plotted and schemed."

"This isn't the time—"

"IT'S EXACTLY THE TIME!" Dean roared, spittle flying from his lips. "You made me believe I was sick! That I needed those treatments! That without you, I'd die!"

Matt's face remained impassive, but I caught the slight tightening around his eyes. Whatever Dean was revealing, it was hitting its mark.

"Your mother wanted you to have the best care," Matt said carefully.

"My mother is DEAD because of you!" Dean's gun hand trembled violently. "And now you're replacing her with this—this nobody!"

Irene used the distraction to wrench herself from Antonio's grip, diving behind a sofa. Antonio cursed, redirecting his aim toward Dean.

"Enough of this family drama," he growled. "Give me my niece or I start shooting your precious heirs one by one."

The situation was spiraling out of control. Four armed men, three potential hostages, and me—caught in the middle of a decades-long vendetta I was only beginning to understand.

That's when I saw it—Matt's hand slipping into his pocket, emerging with what looked like a small remote. Our eyes met briefly, and I understood. Whatever was about to happen, I needed to be ready.

Advertisement

"There's something you should see first, Antonio," I said loudly, drawing everyone's attention. "Something Matt's been hiding in the basement."

Antonio's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What game is this?"

"No game," I continued, edging toward the bookshelf I knew concealed a passage to the lower levels. "My father is down there. Alive."

The claim had the intended effect. Antonio's focus shifted fully to me, his weapon lowering slightly. "If you're lying—"

"She's not," Matt interrupted. "Marcus Reynolds has been my guest for ten years. Would you like to see him?"

The word 'guest' dripped with sinister implications. Dean looked as shocked as Antonio, his gun wavering.

"Dad? What the hell—"

Matt pressed the remote button. Instantly, the lights cut out, plunging the room into darkness. I felt his hand grab mine, yanking me toward the bookshelf as gunfire erupted blindly around us. The hidden door slid open, and we tumbled through just as emergency generators kicked in, red emergency lights casting everything in a bloody glow.

"Run!" Matt commanded, pushing me down the narrow staircase as the door sealed behind us.

The basement level of the Williamson estate was a labyrinth of corridors I'd never seen before. Matt moved with practiced ease, leading me through a series of security doors that required retinal scans, fingerprints, and voice authentication.

"What is this place?" I gasped as we entered what looked like a high-tech medical facility.

"Insurance," Matt replied cryptically, checking monitors as we passed.

We reached a reinforced door at the end of the corridor. Matt hesitated, hand hovering over the access panel.

"What you're about to see," he said quietly, "will change everything between us. Are you ready for that?"

Before I could answer, alarms blared throughout the facility. Security monitors showed Antonio's men breaching the upper levels, with Dean guiding them directly toward the basement entrance.

"We're out of time." Matt pressed his palm to the scanner. The door hissed open.

The room beyond was surprisingly comfortable—more like a luxury apartment than a prison cell. Medical equipment lined one wall, but the space also contained bookshelves, a small sitting area, and what appeared to be an art studio.

In the center, a man sat in a wheelchair, thin but alert, his silver-streaked dark hair neatly combed. When he looked up, I saw my own eyes staring back at me.

"Audrey?" His voice was rough from disuse. "Is it really you?"

My legs nearly gave out beneath me. "Dad?"

Marcus Reynolds extended a trembling hand toward me. "My little girl. All grown up."

I approached cautiously, afraid he might disappear if I moved too quickly. Up close, I could see the resemblance—my nose, my chin, even the way his eyebrows arched when he smiled.

"I thought you were dead," I whispered, taking his frail hand in mine. "The yacht explosion..."

"A convenient cover story," Matt said from behind me. "Your father suffered a stroke that day. Not fatal, but debilitating. I had him brought here for... rehabilitation."

The clinical way he described what was clearly a decade of imprisonment made my skin crawl. Marcus's grip tightened on my hand.

"He's kept me alive to torture me," he said quietly. "Showing me updates about you—growing up with strangers, being manipulated toward his son."

Matt's expression darkened. "I kept you alive so you could witness what it feels like to lose everything you love. Just as you did to me."

"What did he do to you?" I asked, unable to tear my gaze from my father's face.

"He seduced my fiancée," Matt's voice was cold. "Elizabeth was mine before your father stole her. Then he destroyed my first company, bankrupted my family, and left me with nothing but rage to rebuild from."

"Elizabeth chose me," Marcus countered weakly. "She never loved you, Matt. She was terrified of you."

Security monitors flashed red as Antonio's men breached another level. We had minutes at most.

"We need to go," Matt urged. "There's an escape tunnel that leads to the boathouse."

"I'm not leaving without my father," I insisted.

"He'll slow us down."

"Then we all die together."

Matt's jaw clenched as he assessed the situation. Finally, he nodded curtly. "Fine. But I'm not carrying him."

I began disconnecting my father from the various monitoring devices, grateful for the first aid training I'd received years ago. As I worked, I noticed something on the bedside table—a framed photo of me at various ages. School photos. Graduation. Even my engagement party with Dean.

"He made me watch," Marcus said, following my gaze. "Every milestone I missed. Every moment he orchestrated in your life."

The last monitor showed Antonio and Dean entering the main basement corridor, just two security doors away from us.

"Time's up," Matt announced, moving toward what looked like a ordinary wall. He pressed a hidden panel, revealing yet another passage. "This way."

I helped my father into the tunnel, Matt following close behind. The passageway was narrow and dimly lit, sloping gradually upward as we made our way toward what I presumed was the lakefront edge of the property.

"Why did you tell them I was pregnant?" I asked Matt as we moved, supporting my father's weight.

Matt didn't look back. "I needed leverage. Antonio wouldn't harm his sister's grandchild."

"So you lied."

"Did I?" This time he did glance back, his expression unreadable.

The question hung between us as we continued through the tunnel. After what felt like an eternity, we reached a metal ladder leading upward. Matt climbed first, pushing open a trapdoor and scanning the area before signaling us to follow.

We emerged in a luxurious boathouse, moonlight streaming through large windows that overlooked the lake. A sleek cigarette boat was docked inside, ready for a quick escape.

"We need to get him on board," I said, still supporting my father's weight.

Matt moved to help, but froze at the sound of a gun being cocked.

"Going somewhere, Dad?" Dean stood in the boathouse doorway, his weapon trained on Matt's chest. Behind him loomed Antonio and two of his men.

"I underestimated your resourcefulness, son," Matt said calmly.

"You underestimated my hatred," Dean corrected. "All those years of 'treatments' for my 'condition'—you were poisoning me. Keeping me dependent. Weak."

Matt's silence was damning.

Antonio stepped forward, his eyes fixed on me and my father. "Sophia's daughter and the man who stole her from us. Finally."

"Antonio," my father acknowledged weakly. "Still holding grudges after all these years?"

"Some debts can only be paid in blood." Antonio raised his gun.

"Wait!" I stepped between them. "If you kill him, you'll never know where the money is."

Antonio paused. "What money?"

"The offshore accounts," I improvised desperately. "The ones Matt's been trying to find for years. Only my father knows the access codes."

It was a gamble, but from the way Matt stiffened beside me, I knew I'd accidentally stumbled onto something real.

Antonio lowered his weapon slightly. "Is this true, Marcus?"

My father straightened as much as his weakened state allowed. "Twenty years of interest on those accounts. Enough to rebuild everything you lost and more."

"He's lying," Matt snapped.

The boathouse erupted into arguments, everyone talking over each other. I used the distraction to slide my hand into Matt's pocket, retrieving what I hoped was another remote or weapon.

Instead, I found a folded document. Opening it slightly, I glimpsed the heading: "Organ Donor Authorization."

My blood ran cold as I scanned the contents—it was a complete medical dossier on Dean, with notes about compatible donations to my father. Kidney. Bone marrow. Partial liver transplant.

Matt hadn't just imprisoned my father; he'd been harvesting his son to keep my father alive.

My gasp drew Matt's attention. Our eyes met, and in that moment, I saw beyond his carefully constructed facade. Not just rage or calculation, but something more complex—a twisted form of devotion.

"You needed him alive," I whispered. "Not just for revenge."

Matt moved closer, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "Look at his heart."

I didn't understand until my father shifted, his robe falling open slightly to reveal his chest—and there, over his heart, was a surgical scar.

"What did you do?" I asked, horror dawning.

Matt's expression was chilling in its tenderness. "I kept him alive so he could see this day." He reached out, brushing my cheek with his fingers. "So he could watch me take the one thing he truly loved."

Before I could react, Matt tore open his own shirt, revealing what lay beneath—my name, tattooed over his heart, surrounded by an anatomically correct rendering of a beating heart.

"You're insane," I breathed.

"I prefer 'devoted'," Matt replied as he pulled me against him, using me as a shield while drawing a concealed weapon from his ankle holster.

Dean's eyes widened in recognition. "Mom's gun."

"Your mother understood sacrifice," Matt said coldly, aiming past me at Dean. "She gave you a kidney when you were eight. Now it's time you returned the favor."

He tossed the organ donor form at Dean's feet. "Sign it, and I let you live. Refuse, and I put a bullet in the same spot I did your mother when she tried to take you from me."

The revelation hung in the air like a physical presence. Dean staggered back as if struck.

"You killed mom?" His voice cracked. "You always said it was an accident..."

"She was going to expose my plans for Marcus. For Audrey." Matt's arm tightened around me. "I couldn't allow that."

Antonio's laughter cut through the tension. "You Williamsons are even more fucked up than I imagined."

"Like you're any better," I shot back. "You've spent twenty years hunting your own niece."

"To protect you!" Antonio insisted.

"From what? The father who kept mine alive? Or the cousin who tried to rape me?" I twisted in Matt's grip to face him. "You're all monsters. Every single one of you."

The momentary distraction was all Irene needed as she appeared in the doorway behind Dean, a fire extinguisher raised high. She brought it down on Dean's head with a sickening crack, sending him crumpling to the floor.

"That's for cheating on me with the help," she spat, then turned to Antonio. "And you! I am NOT your daughter!"

As chaos erupted once more, I locked eyes with my father. In that moment of perfect understanding, we both lunged for the boat.