Chapter 95
Lio walks into the bar before Hiro can even finish his sentence. My pulse kicks up a notch, my hand instinctively sliding across the table to cover the schematics we’d been poring over. I manage a tight smile, trying to act casual.
"Hi again," Lio says, offering an apologetic grin. "Sorry to intrude, but I remembered something that might be of interest to you."
Hiro, still looking shell-shocked from his recent phone call, exchanges a quick glance with me before turning back to Lio. "It’s not an intrusion," I say smoothly, waving him over. "We appreciate any help."
Lio pulls out a chair and sits down, his eyes darting between us. There’s something different about him this time—more urgency, maybe? I’m not sure, but my guard is definitely up. Wake, seated next to me, doesn’t miss a beat, his gaze sharp, unyielding.
“So, what did you remember?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light but genuinely curious.
Lio drums his fingers against the table for a second before leaning in, lowering his voice just a touch. “I hadn’t thought of it at the time, but if you’re looking for someone who might know more about my grandfather, I know where you can start.”
I blink, surprised. “Really?” I shoot a quick glance at Hiro, who seems equally taken aback. “Anything you know could be valuable to our research,” I add.
Lio nods. “My grandfather had a benefactor.”
That gives me pause. "A benefactor?"
“Yeah, it was something my parents never really talked about,” Lio explains. “Felix was… well, he wasn’t the easiest guy to get along with. But he was a hard worker. When he met my grandmother, he was working construction. Did that for years.”
Hiro, ever the investigator, mutters under his breath, “Doesn’t exactly sound like someone who was reportedly discharged due to mental decline.”
Lio’s head snaps up, surprised. “Is that what his military records say? That he was discharged for mental decline? Because I’ll tell you, that man had his demons, sure, but he was sharp as a tack until the day he died. Angry, yeah. Guilty, maybe. But it never felt like it was for the right things.”
I lock eyes with Hiro, a silent exchange passing between us. Something isn’t adding up here.
“Mental illness wasn’t exactly well documented back then,” I say, trying to ease the tension in the air. “It’s possible he was suffering from stress or anxiety that the military couldn’t—or wouldn’t—recognize.”
Lio considers that, nodding slowly. “Yeah, that could be it. But like I said, he had a lot of guilt… just not for the reasons you might expect.”
Before I can ask what he means, Wake, always direct, cuts in. “And the benefactor?”
Lio’s focus sharpens. “Right. One day, while on the job, Felix fell from a roof—ruptured his spinal column. He was in a coma for months, ended up in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. My parents were panicking, freaking out about the medical bills. They didn’t tell me directly, but I remember hearing the worry in their voices. They thought the bills would bankrupt us.”
I lean in. “What happened?”
Lio shrugs. “Thing is, the bills never came. All my parents would say is that Opa had a ‘benefactor’ who was paying for his care, covering all his expenses.”
I feel my pulse quicken. “And did he recover?”
Lio lets out a small, almost bitter laugh. “He lived to be a hundred, so I’d say so. But here’s the weird part—the payments didn’t stop.”
Hiro, ever the skeptic, raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“I didn’t realize this until after you left earlier,” Lio continues. “I checked the account, and it’s still active. A few grand a month, like clockwork, for over a decade now. Just sitting there.”
I try to keep my expression neutral.
“Do you know who’s been making the payments?” I ask carefully.
Lio shakes his head. “No clue. All I have are the account numbers. Figured someone with the right connections might be able to trace them.”
He hands me a sheet of paper, the account numbers scrawled in neat handwriting. I stare at it for a moment before glancing up at him.
“Thank you for sharing this with us.”
Lio looked thoughtful for a moment. “Whoever's been sending this money…they must have cared for my Opa a lot. That should count for something.”
With that, Lio gives a small, somber nod and rises from the table, offering a polite smile before excusing himself.
I turn to Hiro, who’s already typing furiously on his phone. “Can you track it?”
“I’ll give it a shot,” Hiro says, eyes glued to the screen. “But don’t get your hopes up. If it’s a corporate account, tracing it to an individual could take time.”
Wake leans back in his chair, his brow furrowed in thought. “You think it’s Enigma?”
“I don’t see why Enigma would blackball Becker just to pay off his family afterward,” I say, shaking my head. “Doesn’t make sense.”
“Unless they did know Becker’s family was sitting on information,” Wake says quietly, his voice low but sure.
I bite my lip, considering his point. “Maybe,” I admit. “But something’s still not clicking.”
Hiro looks up from his phone, his expression thoughtful. “Or maybe the answer’s been staring us in the face this whole time.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Phoebe, does Nereid Limited mean anything to you?”
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