Page 107 of He Sees You

"You'll thank us one day," she'd said, her manicured nails still stinging my cheek. "When you're older, when you understand what we've saved you from becoming."

But they hadn't saved me from anything.

They'd created exactly what they feared—someone capable of killing without remorse.

They just hadn't expected to be the first victims.

Now I'm back, bolt cutters in hand, ready to uncover the secrets he died to protect.

The padlock is new—someone's been maintaining this place.

Sterling, most likely.

The metal gives way with a satisfying snap, and the door swings open on oiled hinges.

Definitely maintained.

The smell hits me first—cigar smoke and leather, somehow preserved after all these years.

Or maybe that's just my memory overlaying the present.

Inside, it's like stepping back in time.

My father’s desk dominates the room, that same mahogany monstrosity where he conducted his real business.

His filing cabinets line one wall, each drawer labeled with years—1995, 2000, 2005.

His wall of photographs from town council meetings and charity galas, playing the philanthropist while trafficking children.

The hypocrisy is preserved in dust and shadow.

There's the chair where I sat during that last conversation, burgundy leather worn in specific places.

There's the letter opener Patricia had fingered while suggesting I might benefit from being "fixed" in other ways—chemical castration, she'd mentioned, as casually as discussing the weather.

The room hasn't been touched except for maintenance.

Even Richard's fountain pen sits where he left it, a Mont Blanc worth more than most people's monthly salary.

I pick it up, test its weight.

This pen signed the documents that destroyed hundreds of lives.

This pen authorized my abuse, Juliette's suffering, the trafficking of children through our home.

I set it down and start with the desk drawers.

Locked, but the picks I carry make quick work of them.

Richard always underestimated me, thought locks and threats could contain what I was becoming.

The first drawer holds exactly what I expected—financial records, ledgers in code, bank account numbers for offshore holdings.

Richard was meticulous about money, probably why the operation ran so smoothly.

Each ledger is dated, organized by quarter.

The amounts are staggering.