PART 4 — THE HOUSE WHERE MY MOTHER DIED
“It’s the house where your mother died.”
The words hollowed out the room.
For twenty-two years, that house had existed in my memory as smoke, sirens, and adults refusing to answer questions.
Now my newborn son had been taken there.
“No.”
Dad stepped in front of me.
“Phoebe, you are not going.”
I looked at him.
“My son is there.”
“We don’t know that.”
“The note says he is.”
“The note could be bait.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
“I said I don’t care.”
My voice broke.
For the first time since Leo disappeared, the fear inside me became larger than my anger.
I could feel milk leaking through my blouse.
My body still believed my baby was upstairs waiting for me.
But the bassinet was empty.
And somewhere, someone had my son.
Rowan grabbed his keys.
“I’m coming with you.”
I turned on him.
“No.”
“Phoebe.”
“The note says alone.”
“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t go alone.”
“I am not gambling with Leo’s life.”
“You think I am?”
I stared at him.
“You gambled with his life before he was born.”
That silenced him.
Dad picked up the note again.
“We call the police.”
“No.”
“Phoebe.”
“If whoever took him sees police, they could hurt him.”
“We need professionals.”
“We need Leo.”
Malcolm stepped forward.
“She’s right about one thing.”
Dad glared at him.
“Don’t.”
“Whoever did this knew the house.”
“So?”
“So there are only a handful of people who knew what happened there.”
I looked at him.
“What happened there?”
Nobody answered.
I nearly screamed.
“STOP DOING THAT.”
Everyone froze.
“Every time I ask a question, everyone looks at everyone else.”
I pointed toward the empty bedroom upstairs.
“My three-day-old son is gone.”
My voice shook.
“So no more secrets.”
I looked at Dad.
“What happened in that house?”
He swallowed.
“There was a fire.”
“I know that.”
“It started in the study.”
“What caused it?”
“They said electrical.”
“They?”
“The investigators.”
“Was Mom alone?”
Dad looked away.
My heart sank.
“No.”
I whispered.
“She wasn’t alone.”
He closed his eyes.
“Who was with her?”
Malcolm answered.
“Me.”
I turned slowly.
“What?”
“I was there.”
Dad stepped toward him.
“You left.”
“I went back.”
“You told me you left before dinner.”
“I lied.”
My pulse hammered.
“Why?”
Malcolm looked at me.
“Because your mother called me.”
“For what?”
“She said she had proof.”
“Proof of what?”
He looked toward Dad.
“Someone was stealing from Sterling.”
Dad’s jaw clenched.
Malcolm continued.
“She had traced the first transfers.”
“To who?”
“She didn’t know yet.”
“Then what proof did she have?”
“A ledger.”
“What ledger?”
“A handwritten record.”
Selina’s face changed.
I noticed.
“What?”
I asked.
She shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“Selina.”
“I said nothing.”
Malcolm looked at her.
“You remember it.”
She looked furious.
“Don’t.”
“What was in the ledger?”
I demanded.
Malcolm spoke carefully.
“Names.”
“What names?”
“People connected to the first shell companies.”
My accountant brain switched on despite the panic.
“How many?”
“Seven.”
“And one of them was Mercer.”
Selina looked at me.
“Yes.”
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
“And Hale?”
“Yes.”
I turned to Dad.
“You knew?”
“No.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I didn’t know.”
“But Mom did.”
“She suspected.”
“And she called Malcolm.”
“Yes.”
Dad’s face hardened.
“She should have called me.”
Malcolm snapped.
“She was afraid of you.”
Silence.
Dad stepped closer.
“Say that again.”
“She was afraid of you.”
“I never hurt Eleanor.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“Then what are you implying?”
“That she didn’t know who to trust.”
My chest tightened.
The note in my pocket seemed suddenly heavier.
DON’T TRUST GIDEON.
DON’T TRUST MALCOLM.
My mother, or someone pretending to be her, had warned me about both.
Rowan moved toward the window.
“We’re wasting time.”
He was right.
Every second felt unbearable.
I grabbed my coat.
Dad caught my arm.
“Phoebe.”
I pulled free.
“If you try to stop me, I will never forgive you.”
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he let go.
“I’m driving.”
“No.”
“You’re not going alone.”
“The note says—”
“I’ll stay far enough back.”
“No.”
“Phoebe.”
I stared at him.
Then an idea hit me.
“Give me your security tracker.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“The emergency GPS tag you keep in your wallet.”
His expression changed.
“You know about that?”
“I’m a forensic accountant, remember?”
Even Malcolm almost smiled.
Dad removed a slim black card from his wallet.
I tucked it inside my bra.
“Track me from here.”
Rowan stepped forward.
“I’m still going.”
“No.”
“Phoebe—”
“If they see you, Leo could die.”
His face broke at the word.
I hated myself for saying it.
But I meant it.
“You stay with Dad.”
He stared at me.
“And if you’re not back?”
“Then you find me.”
I walked toward the door.
Selina grabbed my wrist.
I looked down at her hand.
She released me immediately.
“Phoebe.”
“What?”
Her face had changed.
No arrogance.
No superiority.
Fear.
“If you see a red door, don’t open it.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
She shook her head.
“Just don’t.”
“Why?”
She didn’t answer.
Of course.
Another secret.
I left before I strangled someone.
The drive took thirty-six minutes.
I remember every minute.
Every stoplight felt like cruelty.
Every slow driver felt personal.
My phone remained silent.
I kept checking the baby monitor app even though I knew Leo wasn’t home.
Nothing.
No sound.
No movement.
No reason.
The address led me outside the city.
The houses thinned.
Streetlights disappeared.
Trees crowded the road.
Then the pavement ended.
I turned onto a gravel lane.
At the end stood the remains of a house.
Or what had once been a house.
My hands tightened around the steering wheel.
The structure had been rebuilt partially, but the fire had left black scars across the stone.
Windows were boarded.
Weeds swallowed the path.
And hanging from one hinge at the front entrance was a door.
Painted red.
I stopped the car.
Selina’s warning echoed in my head.
If you see a red door, don’t open it.
I looked around.
No cars.
No lights.
No movement.
Then my phone buzzed.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
GET OUT OF THE CAR.
My stomach twisted.
I obeyed.
The air smelled like wet earth and old wood.
Another message.
LEAVE THE PHONE.
I looked at the house.
No.
I wasn’t leaving the only connection I had.
I turned the phone off and slid it beneath the driver’s seat.
Then I walked forward.
My legs shook.
I thought of Leo’s tiny hand around my finger.
His cry.
The weight of him against my chest.
“Mommy’s coming.”
I reached the porch.
The front door wasn’t locked.
It opened with a groan.
Inside, the air smelled stale.
Dust covered the floor.
But not everywhere.
There were footprints.
Fresh ones.
I followed them.
“Leo?”
My voice disappeared into the darkness.
No answer.
“Leo?”
A sound came from somewhere deeper inside.
A baby crying.
My heart stopped.
“LEO!”
I ran.
The cry came again.
Upstairs.
I took the steps two at a time.
The hallway was narrow.
Several doors.
Then the crying stopped.
“Leo?”
Nothing.
I opened the first room.
Empty.
Second.
Empty.
Third.
A chair.
A table.
A lamp turned on.
And a baby monitor.
I rushed toward it.
The sound I’d heard was coming from the speaker.
A recording.
“No.”
I grabbed it.
“NO!”
Then a voice behind me said,
“You still run toward danger exactly like your mother.”
I froze.
Slowly, I turned.
A woman stood in the doorway.
Around sixty.
Silver hair.
Thin face.
Dark coat.
I had seen her before.
In the photograph.
My knees nearly collapsed.
“No.”
She stared at me.
Tears filled her eyes.
“Phoebe.”
I backed away.
“No.”
“It’s me.”
“No.”
She took one step forward.
I raised my hand.
“Don’t.”
She stopped.
“Please.”
“My mother is dead.”
The woman’s face crumpled.
“That’s what they told you.”
“My father identified her body.”
“He identified a body.”
I could barely breathe.
“Who are you?”
She looked at me.
“Eleanor.”
The name entered my chest like a knife.
“No.”
“Phoebe—”
“DON’T SAY MY NAME.”
She flinched.
Good.
I wanted her to.
“You took my son?”
Her face changed.
“No.”
“Where is he?”
“I didn’t take Leo.”
“You knew his name.”
“Of course I do.”
“How?”
“I’ve been watching you.”
My stomach turned.
“For how long?”
“Years.”
I felt sick.
“You watched me?”
“I had to.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I couldn’t come back.”
“Why?”
“Because they would have killed you.”
“Who?”
She looked toward the hallway.
“We don’t have much time.”
I laughed.
It sounded broken.
“You disappear for twenty-two years, stand in the house where I thought you died, tell me you’ve been watching me, and now you don’t have time?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I know what this looks like.”
“You have no idea what this looks like.”
“I do.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“My son is missing.”
Her face changed again.
“He is?”
I stared at her.
“You really don’t know.”
“No.”
For the first time, I believed her.
Not completely.
But enough to be terrified.
She looked toward the door.
“Who sent you here?”
“A note.”
“What note?”
I pulled it from my pocket.
She read it.
Her face went white.
“That isn’t mine.”
“It’s your handwriting.”
“Someone copied it.”
“Who?”
She looked toward the hallway.
Then whispered,
“Victor.”
My blood ran cold.
“Victor Hale?”
“Yes.”
“You know him?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He was seventeen when the fire happened.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“He was there that night.”
“What?”
“He followed his father.”
“Why?”
“Because his father was meeting Selina’s father.”
I struggled to keep up.
“What were they meeting about?”
“The ledger.”
“What happened?”
Eleanor looked around the room.
“I found the records.”
“The theft?”
“Yes.”
“From Sterling?”
“From all three founders.”
“Dad too?”
“Yes.”
“Malcolm?”
“Yes.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Who was stealing?”
“Hale and Mercer.”
“Victor’s father and Selina’s father.”
“Yes.”
“Did Dad know?”
She hesitated.
That hesitation terrified me.
“Did he know?”
“He knew something.”
“What?”
“He knew the money was missing.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No.”
“Did he know who was taking it?”
“I don’t know.”
I nearly screamed.
“Why does nobody know anything?”
“Because that night destroyed the truth.”
“What happened?”
She closed her eyes.
“I called Malcolm.”
“Dad said you should have called him.”
“I wanted to.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because someone had forged Gideon’s signature.”
I froze.
“On what?”
“Transfers.”
My mind raced.
“So you thought Dad might be involved.”
“Yes.”
“Was he?”
“I never found out.”
“What happened when Malcolm came?”
“He saw the ledger.”
“And?”
“He wanted to confront them.”
“Who?”
“Hale and Mercer.”
“So you all met here?”
“Yes.”
“Dad too?”
She looked at me.
“No.”
“Then how did he arrive?”
“He came later.”
“Why?”
“Because someone called him.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
She walked toward the window.
“The argument became violent.”
“Who started it?”
“Mercer.”
“Selina’s father.”
“Yes.”
“He attacked Malcolm.”
“With what?”
“A fireplace poker.”
I looked around.
The room suddenly seemed smaller.
“Then?”
“Hale tried to take the ledger.”
“I stopped him.”
“And the fire?”
She swallowed.
“A lamp fell.”
“Accident?”
“At first.”
“At first?”
“The curtain caught.”
“We could have put it out.”
“Could have?”
“Yes.”
“But someone locked the doors.”
My skin prickled.
“Who?”
Eleanor looked at me.
“I thought it was Hale.”
“Thought?”
“I was wrong.”
“Who?”
Before she could answer, footsteps sounded downstairs.
She went still.
“So did I.”
“What?”
“Victor found us.”
My heart stopped.
“You said he was seventeen.”
“He was.”
“He’s here now?”
She grabbed my arm.
“We need to move.”
I pulled away.
“My son.”
“If Victor took him, Leo won’t be in the house.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Victor never brings leverage to the meeting.”
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
“He keeps leverage somewhere safe.”
“You sound like you know him very well.”
“I do.”
Footsteps reached the staircase.
Slow.
Measured.
Eleanor opened a hidden panel behind a bookshelf.
“Inside.”
I didn’t move.
“Phoebe.”
“No.”
“If he sees you—”
“Where is my son?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then I’m not hiding.”
She grabbed my shoulders.
“You have to understand something.”
“What?”
“Victor doesn’t want money.”
“Then what does he want?”
“Sterling.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“The entire company.”
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
“He spent thirty years making it possible.”
“Thirty?”
“He learned from his father.”
“What does Leo have to do with it?”
She looked devastated.
“Everything.”
Footsteps stopped outside the room.
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
She whispered,
“Leo is Gideon’s legal successor.”
“No.”
“You are first.”
“What?”
“You inherit control.”
“I never agreed to that.”
“You don’t have to.”
My mind raced.
“If something happens to me—”
“Leo becomes successor.”
A shadow moved beneath the door.
My mouth went dry.
“So Victor needs us gone.”
“No.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“He needs you alive.”
“Why?”
“Because he needs your signature.”
The door handle turned.
Eleanor pulled me into the hidden passage.
The panel closed.
Darkness swallowed us.
Through a narrow crack, I watched the door open.
Victor Hale entered.
I recognized him from Dad’s company website.
Early sixties.
Perfect suit.
Gray tie.
Calm expression.
He looked around.
“Eleanor?”
She pressed one finger to her lips.
Victor smiled.
“I know you’re here.”
Silence.
He walked toward the baby monitor.
“You always were sentimental.”
My heart pounded.
Then he removed his phone.
He dialed.
A second later, somewhere nearby, a baby cried.
Not from the monitor.
Real.
My entire body reacted.
Leo.
I lunged forward.
Eleanor grabbed me.
I fought her.
She covered my mouth.
Victor listened to the crying through his phone.
Then smiled.
“Good.”
He ended the call.
I nearly collapsed.
Leo was alive.
Somewhere.
Victor turned toward the room.
“Phoebe.”
My blood froze.
“He knows I’m here.”
Eleanor whispered,
“He guessed.”
Victor continued.
“You probably think your mother brought you here.”
He smiled.
“She didn’t.”
My heart hammered.
“She’s been very difficult to find.”
He looked directly toward the wall.
Almost toward us.
“But you?”
He chuckled.
“You were easy.”
He placed an envelope on the table.
“Your husband made sure of that.”
I stopped breathing.
Rowan.
Eleanor’s grip tightened.
Victor turned toward the door.
Then paused.
“Oh, and Phoebe?”
He looked back.
“If you want Leo back, bring me the original partnership agreement.”
He smiled.
“The one your father pretends doesn’t exist.”
Then he left.
We waited.
One minute.
Two.
Three.
Eleanor finally opened the panel.
I stepped into the room.
My hands were shaking.
“Rowan.”
“Phoebe—”
“He gave Victor my location.”
“We don’t know that.”
“He said Rowan made sure of it.”
“Victor lies.”
“So does everyone in my family.”
I grabbed the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Leo.
Wrapped in his blue hospital blanket.
Sleeping.
Alive.
I pressed the photo to my chest.
“My baby.”
On the back was a message.
MIDNIGHT.
STERLING ARCHIVES.
ZURICH.
BRING THE ORIGINAL AGREEMENT.
COME WITH ROWAN.
I read the last line twice.
“Why Rowan?”
Eleanor’s face changed.
“What?”
“The note says bring Rowan.”
She snatched the photograph.
Her eyes widened.
“No.”
“What?”
“We have to leave.”
“Why?”
“Because Victor knows.”
“Knows what?”
She looked at me.
“Rowan isn’t who you think he is.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Apparently nobody is.”
“I mean legally.”
“What?”
She grabbed my hand.
“His name isn’t Rowan Mercer.”
I stared at her.
“What are you talking about?”
“That name was given to him after the fire.”
My breathing stopped.
“After the fire?”
“Yes.”
“He was a baby.”
“Yes.”
“Why would anyone change a baby’s name?”
Eleanor stared at me.
“Because his father was supposed to be dead.”
I felt the room tilt.
“Malcolm?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
My skin turned cold.
“Then who is Rowan’s father?”
Before Eleanor could answer, a sound came from downstairs.
A door slamming.
Then Dad’s voice.
“PHOEBE!”
I stared at her.
“You told me to come alone.”
“I didn’t tell him.”
Dad appeared in the doorway.
Rowan behind him.
Malcolm behind Rowan.
Selina last.
For one impossible second, everyone stared at Eleanor.
Dad looked as if he had stopped breathing.
“Ellie?”
Her face collapsed.
“Gideon.”
He moved toward her.
Then stopped.
Twenty-two years of grief stood between them.
“You’re alive.”
“I am.”
Dad’s voice broke.
“You’re alive.”
“Yes.”
He reached for her.
She stepped back.
That hurt him visibly.
“Why?”
He whispered.
“Why did you leave me?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Because I thought you tried to kill me.”
Silence.
Dad stared at her.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I would never—”
“I found your signature.”
“Forged.”
“I know that now.”
“Then why didn’t you come back?”
“Because by the time I learned the truth, Phoebe was already being watched.”
“By whom?”
“Victor.”
Dad turned to Rowan.
“You led us here.”
Rowan looked confused.
“No.”
Dad held up his phone.
“Your car’s navigation log.”
Rowan frowned.
“What about it?”
“It contains this address.”
“That’s because Phoebe—”
“No.”
Dad stepped closer.
“From eight months ago.”
Rowan went pale.
I stared at him.
“You’ve been here before.”
He said nothing.
“ROWAN.”
He looked at Eleanor.
And that was the worst thing he could have done.
Because she knew.
“You remember me,” she said.
Rowan swallowed.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t.”
“You were here eight months ago.”
“No.”
“You came looking for the ledger.”
I stepped backward.
“Rowan?”
His eyes filled with panic.
“Phoebe, let me explain.”
“Were you here?”
Silence.
“WERE YOU HERE?”
“Yes.”
Everything inside me broke again.
“Why?”
“Because Victor sent me.”
Dad lunged toward him.
Malcolm stopped him.
“Let him speak.”
Rowan looked at me.
“I didn’t know Eleanor was alive.”
“You saw her.”
“I saw someone.”
“You recognized her.”
“No.”
“You knew she looked like my mother.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“I thought it was a setup.”
“You always have an explanation.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“Stop saying that.”
“I was.”
“YOU LEFT ME IN LABOR.”
His face crumpled.
“I know.”
“You knew Victor was dangerous.”
“Yes.”
“You knew he was watching me.”
“Yes.”
“And you still left me.”
“I thought Selina’s meeting was the only way to stop him.”
Selina snapped,
“That wasn’t the plan.”
Everyone looked at her.
Rowan frowned.
“What?”
“You weren’t supposed to meet Victor that night.”
“What are you talking about?”
Selina stared at him.
“I told you the dinner was cover.”
“Yes.”
“For the lawyers.”
Rowan went still.
“What lawyers?”
“The ones preparing your identity disclosure.”
The room went silent.
Eleanor whispered,
“No.”
Malcolm looked at Selina.
“You were going to tell him?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me what?”
Rowan demanded.
Selina began crying.
I had never seen her cry.
Not once.
“Your name.”
“What about my name?”
“Rowan Mercer isn’t your birth name.”
His face emptied.
Eleanor looked at me.
This was what she had been trying to tell me.
Rowan turned to his mother.
“What is my name?”
She couldn’t say it.
“Mom.”
She closed her eyes.
“Your birth certificate says Rowan Hale.”
Silence.
Nobody moved.
Rowan laughed once.
“What?”
“Your father’s name was Adrian Hale.”
Victor’s surname.
My stomach twisted.
“Who was Adrian Hale?” I asked.
Malcolm’s face went white.
Dad whispered,
“Victor’s younger brother.”
Rowan stared at them.
“No.”
Selina cried harder.
“Adrian died the night of the fire.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
“He didn’t die.”
Selina stopped crying.
“What?”
“He survived.”
Malcolm stepped forward.
“You saw him?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Outside.”
Dad frowned.
“But the police found—”
“A body.”
Eleanor looked at him.
“Not Adrian.”
Rowan’s breathing became uneven.
“Then where is my father?”
Eleanor stared at him.
“Victor took him.”
“What?”
“He was injured.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw Victor put him in a car.”
Rowan staggered backward.
“He kidnapped his own brother?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Eleanor looked toward Dad.
“Because Adrian knew who locked the doors.”
Silence.
Rowan’s voice shook.
“Who?”
Eleanor looked at Selina.
Then Malcolm.
Then Dad.
And finally me.
“The person who started the fire deliberately.”
My mouth went dry.
“Who was it?”
Eleanor whispered,
“Selina.”
Rowan turned toward his mother.
“No.”
Selina stared at Eleanor.
“You liar.”
“You locked the back entrance.”
“I was trying to keep Hale inside.”
“You poured whiskey across the study floor.”
“He was destroying everything.”
“You lit it.”
“No.”
“You thought the ledger was in the room.”
“I was trying to scare him.”
Rowan looked sick.
“You started the fire?”
Selina shook her head violently.
“It got out of control.”
“You told me my father died in that fire.”
“I thought he had!”
“YOU WERE THERE?”
“Yes.”
His voice broke.
“You lied to me my entire life.”
“I was protecting you.”
Rowan laughed bitterly.
“Apparently that’s what everyone calls lying.”
Selina reached for him.
He stepped away.
Then Eleanor spoke.
“Selina wasn’t the one who locked the front doors.”
Selina froze.
Dad looked at her.
“Who was?”
Eleanor’s eyes moved to Malcolm.
His face changed.
“No.”
She whispered,
“You.”
I turned.
Malcolm stared at her.
“That is not true.”
“I saw you.”
“You were trapped upstairs.”
“I saw you through the landing window.”
“I was trying to keep Hale from escaping.”
“You locked all of us inside.”
“No.”
Dad grabbed Malcolm’s coat.
“Is that true?”
Malcolm shoved him away.
“I was trying to stop them from destroying the ledger.”
“You trapped my wife in a burning house?”
“I didn’t know she was still inside.”
Eleanor laughed bitterly.
“You heard me screaming.”
Malcolm’s face collapsed.
Nobody spoke.
Then Rowan’s phone rang.
Every person in the room froze.
UNKNOWN.
He answered.
“Hello?”
Victor’s voice came through the speaker.
“Good.”
Rowan’s face went white.
Victor continued.
“Now everyone knows enough to hate each other.”
I stepped forward.
“Where is Leo?”
Victor laughed softly.
“Hello, Phoebe.”
“Let me hear my son.”
“You already did.”
“LET ME HEAR HIM.”
A moment later, Leo cried through the phone.
My knees nearly gave out.
“Leo.”
I covered my mouth.
Victor spoke again.
“He’s safe.”
“If you hurt him—”
“I won’t.”
“Where is he?”
“You’ll find out at midnight.”
“Zurich?”
“Yes.”
Dad stepped forward.
“You’re not getting the partnership agreement.”
Victor laughed.
“Oh, Gideon.”
“You don’t have it.”
Silence.
Dad’s expression changed.
Victor continued.
“Eleanor does.”
Everyone turned toward her.
She went pale.
“No.”
Victor chuckled.
“You kept it all these years.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“I destroyed it.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Dad stared at her.
“Ellie?”
She wouldn’t look at him.
Victor continued.
“Tell them.”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
“Tell them why Phoebe’s mother disappeared.”
I whispered,
“Mom?”
Her face crumpled.
“I kept the agreement.”
“Why?”
“Because it proved ownership.”
“Whose?”
“Mine.”
Dad went still.
“What?”
She looked at him.
“I never transferred my shares.”
Silence.
My accountant brain understood immediately.
If Eleanor still legally owned thirty-four percent…
And if her trust transferred those shares to me…
Dad did not control Sterling the way he thought he did.
Victor laughed through the phone.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Dad stared at Eleanor.
“You let me believe I owned those shares.”
“I was trying to protect Phoebe.”
“From me?”
“From whoever was inside Sterling.”
“And now?”
She looked at me.
“Now the shares belong to her.”
My heart stopped.
“How much?”
Dad whispered,
“Thirty-four percent.”
Victor corrected him.
“Thirty-six point two after the restructuring.”
I felt sick.
Victor continued.
“And combined with the voting trust Leo inherited at birth…”
Everyone froze.
“What voting trust?” I asked.
Dad slowly turned toward me.
His face gave him away.
“You knew.”
He said nothing.
“Dad.”
He swallowed.
“Yes.”
“WHAT DID LEO INHERIT?”
“A controlling proxy.”
My body went cold.
“How much control?”
Victor answered before Dad could.
“Fifty-one percent.”
Silence.
I could hear my own heartbeat.
Leo.
My three-day-old son.
Held legal control over Sterling through a trust.
That was why Victor needed him.
That was why Rowan’s company had been used.
That was why the accounts were in Leo’s name.
That was why everything had accelerated after his birth.
Victor said,
“At midnight, bring Eleanor’s agreement.”
“And Leo?”
“You get him back.”
“Alive?”
Victor paused.
Then Leo cried again.
“Yes.”
I stared at Rowan.
Then Dad.
Then Eleanor.
“Where in Zurich?”
Victor gave an address.
Dad recognized it.
“The archive.”
“Yes.”
Victor’s voice softened.
“And Phoebe?”
“What?”
“Don’t bring police.”
“I won’t.”
“Don’t bring security.”
“I won’t.”
“Bring Rowan.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
Victor laughed.
“Because Rowan has something I need too.”
Rowan went still.
“What?”
“Your blood.”
Everyone froze.
“What does that mean?” Rowan asked.
Victor said,
“You still don’t know?”
Selina covered her mouth.
Victor continued.
“Adrian Hale wasn’t just my brother.”
A pause.
“He was Gideon Sterling’s biological son.”
The room vanished.
Rowan stared at Dad.
Dad stared at Rowan.
“No.”
Dad whispered.
“No.”
Eleanor began crying.
Malcolm looked sick.
Selina closed her eyes.
Rowan’s voice became almost inaudible.
“What did he say?”
Victor laughed softly.
“See you at midnight.”
The call ended.
No one moved.
Rowan slowly turned toward my father.
“If Adrian Hale was your son…”
Dad looked as if he might collapse.
Rowan’s eyes moved to me.
Then back to Dad.
“Then what does that make Phoebe?”
My stomach turned.
Eleanor stepped forward.
“Not what you think.”
Rowan stared at her.
“Then tell me.”
Nobody spoke.
“Tell me!”
Eleanor looked at me.
Her face shattered.
“Phoebe… Gideon is not your biological father.”
Silence.
The house seemed to stop breathing.
I stared at the man I had called Dad my entire life.
He looked destroyed.
“No.”
I whispered.
Eleanor began crying harder.
“I’m sorry.”
I stepped backward.
“Who is?”
She couldn’t answer.
“WHO IS MY FATHER?”
Malcolm closed his eyes.
Dad looked at him.
And suddenly I knew.
Before anyone said a word.
I looked at Malcolm.
He couldn’t meet my eyes.
My voice barely worked.
“No.”
Eleanor whispered,
“Malcolm is your biological father.”
Rowan stumbled against the wall.
I stared at Malcolm.
Then at Dad.
Then at my mother.
Every truth I had spent my life standing on had just disappeared.
But before I could say anything, Rowan’s phone buzzed again.
A new message from Victor.
One photograph.
Leo.
And beside his bassinet stood a man.
Alive.
Older.
Scarred across one side of his face.
Rowan stared at the image.
His entire body began shaking.
Underneath were five words.
YOUR FATHER WANTS TO MEET YOU.
Rowan whispered,
“Adrian.”
I looked at the clock.
11:07 p.m.
Fifty-three minutes until midnight.
Fifty-three minutes to reach the truth.
Fifty-three minutes to get my baby back.
And possibly fifty-three minutes before the family I thought I had disappeared forever.
TO BE CONTINUED…
