The Supreme Immortal’s Return To Earth

What the Family Knows

Daniel came home at seven.

Adrian heard the front door open, heard the heavy footsteps in the hallway, heard the sigh as Daniel dropped his bag on the floor. He was in the living room, reading through the property records again, when Daniel appeared in the doorway.

“You’re still up,” Daniel said.

“Can’t sleep.”

Daniel nodded. He looked exhausted — more than usual. The warehouse had been empty for months. Whatever he was doing there, it wasn’t work.

“Your mother said you went to the records office,” Daniel said.

“Yeah.”

“Find anything?”

Adrian set the papers down. “The debt was manipulated. The house was marked for development before we ever went into default.”

Daniel’s expression didn’t change. But something in his posture shifted — a tightening, like he’d been expecting this and was waiting for the blow to land.

“I know,” he said.

Adrian looked at him. “You knew?”

“I suspected.” Daniel crossed the room and sat down in the armchair across from Adrian. He rubbed his face with both hands. “When the final demand came, I knew something was wrong. The numbers didn’t add up. But I couldn’t prove it.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Who was I going to tell?” Daniel’s voice was flat. “The police? They’re bought. A lawyer? I couldn’t afford one. The only person I told was your mother, and she—” He stopped. Swallowed. “She’s been worried enough.”

Adrian was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “The debt was sold to Voss by Gregory Marks.”

Daniel went still.

“Twelve thousand dollars,” Adrian continued. “For an eighty-thousand-dollar loan. Then he disappeared two months later.”

Daniel didn’t say anything. His hands were resting on his knees, and they had gone very still — the way hands do when someone is trying to keep them from shaking.

“Dad.”

“I know.” Daniel’s voice was rough. “I know what he did.”

“Then tell me.”

Daniel was quiet for a long time. The house creaked. The refrigerator hummed. Somewhere outside, a car passed and faded into the distance.

“We built that company together,” Daniel said finally. “Me and Gregory. Started with one truck. He handled the shipping contracts. I handled the logistics. For three years, it worked.”

He paused. His jaw tightened.

“I found out he was moving things he shouldn’t have been.”

Adrian waited.

“It was the manifests,” Daniel said. “I was going through the paperwork for a client — a routine audit, nothing special. But the numbers didn’t match. The cargo was listed as ceramics and textiles, but the fees were too high. Ten times what a shipment of that size should cost. And the destinations—” He shook his head. “Some of them were places that didn’t exist. An address that had been demolished years ago. A private airfield that wasn’t registered with the city.”

“What did you do?”

“I confronted him.” Daniel’s voice was steady now, but there was something underneath it — anger, maybe, or shame. “He promised me he’d stop. Said it was a one-time thing, that he’d gotten in over his head, that he’d fix it. I believed him.”

“But he didn’t stop.”

“He disappeared.” Daniel leaned back in his chair. “Two months later, his apartment was empty. His phone was disconnected. His wife said she hadn’t heard from him. No one ever found him.”

“And then the corporation acquired your client.”

“Right after Marks disappeared. It was like they’d been waiting for him to be gone.” Daniel’s hands clenched in his lap. “They forced me into a contract I couldn’t refuse. The pressure started. The financial problems. The debt. All of it.”

Adrian considered this. “What happened to the manifests? The ones that didn’t match the cargo?”

Daniel looked at him. “What?”

“The manifests. The evidence. What happened to them?”

Daniel was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “I kept them.”

“Where?”

“Storage unit. Out on Route 9. I’ve been paying the rent with money I don’t have.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why. I guess I thought — if I could prove what Marks was doing, if I could show that the corporation was involved, maybe I could—” He stopped. “It was stupid.”

“It wasn’t stupid.” Adrian met his father’s eyes. “It was insurance.”

“Insurance for what? No one’s ever asked for them. No one’s ever mentioned them. It’s been three years.”

“Then someone doesn’t know you have them.” Adrian leaned forward. “Or someone knows and hasn’t acted yet. Either way, those manifests are evidence. They’re proof that something illegal was happening. And if Voss or the corporation knew you had them, they’d want them destroyed.”

Daniel stared at him. “You think that’s why they’re targeting us? Because of the manifests?”

“I think it’s possible.” Adrian stood. “I need to see them.”

The storage unit was on the far edge of the city, in a facility that was mostly empty. The security was minimal — a chain-link fence, a gate that opened with a keypad code, a camera that hadn’t been maintained since the owner installed it.

Daniel led Adrian to Unit 42. He fumbled with the lock for a moment, then pulled the metal door up.

The unit was small. A few boxes. A filing cabinet. A desk chair that had seen better days.

Daniel crossed to the filing cabinet and pulled open the bottom drawer. Inside were folders — dozens of them. He pulled out one and handed it to Adrian.

The manifest was simple. A standard shipping document — cargo listed as “ceramics and textiles,” destination listed as a private airfield outside the city, fees listed as ten times what a shipment of that size should cost.

Adrian flipped through the pages. The dates didn’t match the invoices. The destinations were sometimes places that didn’t exist. The fees were inconsistent.

“This isn’t normal,” he said.

“I know.”

Adrian looked at another manifest. This one listed a shipment to an address that had been demolished years ago. Another listed fees that were forty times the standard rate.

He stopped at one manifest and stared at it.

“What?” Daniel asked.

Adrian didn’t answer. The manifest listed a shipment of “ceramics” to a private airfield. The airfield was owned by a shell company. The shell company was owned by another shell company. And that one traced back to the anonymous LLC that had filed the rezoning application on the Vale family’s home.

The same LLC owned by Gregory Marks.

Adrian flipped through more manifests. The pattern was clear now. The cargo wasn’t ceramics and textiles. The fees were too high, the destinations too secret, the dates too precise. This wasn’t ordinary smuggling. The shipments were too organized, too well-funded, too carefully concealed.

Someone was moving artifacts. The kind of artifacts that didn’t belong in the ordinary world. The kind that were worth killing for.

And his new father was a witness.

“I need to take these,” Adrian said.

Daniel didn’t argue. He just nodded.

They left the storage unit and drove home in silence. Daniel kept his eyes on the road. Adrian watched the city pass by through the window.

“You’re not going to tell me what’s going on,” Daniel said finally.

“No.”

“I figured.” Daniel was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “Your mother is terrified. She thinks you’ve changed into someone she doesn’t recognize. She won’t say it, but I can see it.”

Adrian didn’t respond.

“I don’t know who you are,” Daniel continued. “I don’t know what happened to you in that hospital. I don’t know why you can do the things you do.” He paused. “But I know you’re still my son. And I know you’re trying to help.”

“I am.”

“Then do it.” Daniel’s voice was steady. “Fix this. Whatever it takes. I don’t care how. I don’t care what it costs. Just — fix it.”

Adrian looked at his father. Daniel’s hands were gripping the steering wheel. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead. He looked like a man who had been carrying a weight for too long and had finally found someone to share it with.

“I will,” Adrian said.