PART 4 — The Ghost Inside the Sterling Family
“They had just proven they were still watching us.”
I stared at Victor while Sophia clung to my coat.
The lobby suddenly felt exposed.
Too bright.
Too open.
Every person walking past us looked suspicious.
Every reflection in the glass doors looked like someone watching.
Victor took my phone from my hand and read the anonymous messages again.
DO NOT TAKE SOPHIA TO THE HOSPITAL.
YOU DON’T KNOW WHO YOU CAN TRUST.
ASK VICTOR WHO SIGNED THE ORIGINAL MEDICAL REFERRAL.
He looked toward the street.
Then toward the elevators.
His entire body changed.
My brother no longer looked like the man who had come to destroy Dominic’s empire.
He looked like the man who had just realized someone had entered his own house.
“Anna.”
His voice was immediate.
“Move the car.”
Anna nodded.
“Where?”
“Garage level three.”
“Not the main exit.”
She didn’t ask why.
She took Sophia’s hand.
“Come on, sweetheart.”
Sophia looked up at me.
“Mommy?”
“I’m right behind you.”
Victor grabbed my wrist.
“Not yet.”
Anna and Sophia disappeared toward the private corridor.
I turned on him.
“What are you doing?”
“Finding out whether someone followed us.”
“My daughter is scared.”
“And I intend to keep her alive.”
The words hit me.
I went still.
Victor immediately softened.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“Don’t soften it.”
“If you think she’s in danger, tell me.”
He looked at me for several seconds.
“I think someone wants us frightened.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“I don’t know if someone intends to hurt Sophia.”
“But the person texting you knows about a referral document that only a handful of people should know exists.”
“Which means what?”
“Which means this isn’t random.”
He opened his phone.
A few rapid messages.
Then he looked at me.
“We’re changing hospitals.”
“What?”
“Sterling Medical is compromised until I know otherwise.”
“You own part of it.”
“That doesn’t mean I trust everyone inside it.”
He dialed.
“Dr. Patel.”
A pause.
“Change of location.”
“Bring only the portable team.”
“No hospital records.”
“No central scheduling.”
“Use the private clinic on Jefferson.”
“And do not tell anyone where you’re going.”
He ended the call.
I stared at him.
“How deep does this go?”
Victor didn’t answer.
“That means you’re wondering the same thing.”
“Yes.”
A security officer approached.
“Mr. Sterling.”
Victor turned.
“We found something.”
The officer handed him a tablet.
Security footage filled the screen.
The front entrance.
Twenty minutes earlier.
A man in a dark coat stood across the street.
He never entered.
Never approached.
He simply watched the building.
Then Anna emerged carrying Sophia.
The man lifted his phone.
Took a photograph.
And walked away.
My stomach dropped.
“Who is he?”
“We’re running facial recognition.”
Victor’s voice hardened.
“Get every camera on the block.”
“Already doing it.”
The officer walked away.
I looked at Victor.
“I want Sophia out of here.”
“So do I.”
We moved toward the service elevator.
The doors opened.
Victor stepped inside first.
I followed.
The moment they closed, my phone vibrated again.
Unknown number.
Victor saw it.
“Don’t open it.”
I already had.
A photograph appeared.
Sophia.
Taken less than five minutes earlier.
Outside the lobby.
I stopped breathing.
Underneath it:
SHE LOOKS JUST LIKE HER GRANDFATHER.
Victor swore under his breath.
Another message arrived.
BUT SHE ISN’T THE ONE YOU SHOULD BE WORRIED ABOUT.
My fingers went numb.
Then another.
ASK YOUR BROTHER WHAT HAPPENED ON OCTOBER 17.
I looked at Victor.
“What happened October seventeenth?”
He went still.
“What year?”
“The message doesn’t say.”
He took the phone.
His face changed slowly.
“What?”
I whispered.
Victor stared at the message.
“October seventeenth was the day Dad died.”
I felt the floor disappear beneath me.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Our father had died suddenly four years earlier.
Officially, it was a heart attack.
He had collapsed inside the family estate.
By the time paramedics arrived, he was gone.
I had been in Boston with Dominic and Sophia.
Victor had called me himself.
I still remembered his voice.
Come home, Viv.
Dad’s gone.
I leaned against the elevator wall.
“What does that have to do with this?”
Victor did not answer.
The elevator opened into the underground garage.
Anna stood beside two black vehicles.
Sophia ran toward me.
“Mommy!”
I scooped her up.
Victor immediately looked at his security chief.
“Anyone enter?”
“No.”
“Any unknown vehicles?”
“One sedan left two minutes ago.”
“Plate?”
“Fake.”
Victor looked toward the exit.
“Of course.”
We loaded into the second vehicle.
Victor sat across from me.
Sophia curled against my side.
For ten minutes, nobody spoke.
Then she whispered.
“Mommy, did Daddy do something bad?”
I looked down at her.
My heart shattered.
Children shouldn’t have to ask questions like that.
“He made some very bad choices.”
“Is he going to jail?”
Victor looked away.
I brushed Sophia’s hair from her forehead.
“I don’t know.”
She thought for a moment.
Then quietly said,
“I don’t want Daddy to go to jail.”
I closed my eyes.
“I know.”
“He still loves me.”
The words were not a question.
She needed them to be true.
I kissed her forehead.
“Yes, sweetheart.”
Whatever Dominic had done, I would not make my daughter carry the burden of deciding whether her father loved her.
That belonged to him.
Not her.
Twenty minutes later, we arrived at an unmarked medical clinic.
No sign.
No reception desk.
Only two doctors waiting at a private entrance.
Sophia was taken inside for tests.
I stayed beside her until she fell asleep from exhaustion.
Then Victor and I stepped into the hallway.
The door closed behind us.
“Now tell me.”
He looked at me.
“Tell you what?”
“Why you looked scared when I asked about Dad.”
He leaned against the wall.
“I wasn’t scared.”
“You were.”
He said nothing.
I folded my arms.
“No more protecting me.”
“Vivienne.”
“No.”
“Dominic hid things.”
“Chloe hid things.”
“Someone inside our family hid things.”
“I’m finished being the last person in the room to know.”
Victor looked toward Sophia’s door.
Then back at me.
“Dad didn’t die where we told everyone he died.”
My blood went cold.
“What?”
“He didn’t collapse in the study.”
I stared at him.
“Then where?”
“The east wing archive.”
I frowned.
Our family estate had an old records wing.
Most of it contained legal files, property documents, trusts, contracts, correspondence.
“Why were we lied to?”
“Because Mom asked me to.”
My mouth fell open.
“Mom knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Victor rubbed his jaw.
“The archive room had been broken into.”
I stopped breathing.
“When?”
“The night Dad died.”
“By who?”
“We never found out.”
“You’re telling me someone broke into our family records the same night Dad died?”
“Yes.”
“And you kept that from me for four years?”
“I was trying to protect you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“That excuse is getting old.”
“I know.”
“Did Dominic know?”
Victor hesitated.
That hesitation said too much.
“Victor.”
“We found Dominic’s number in Dad’s call log.”
My heart slammed.
“What?”
“Dad called him.”
“When?”
“Forty-three minutes before he died.”
I stared at my brother.
“Why would Dad call Dominic?”
“We didn’t know.”
“Did you ask him?”
“Yes.”
“What did Dominic say?”
“That Dad had called to discuss a family matter.”
“What family matter?”
“He refused to say.”
“And you accepted that?”
“No.”
Victor’s eyes hardened.
“I had him investigated.”
Of course he did.
“And?”
“Nothing enough to connect him to Dad’s death.”
I felt dizzy.
“Did you tell the police?”
“Yes.”
“They questioned him.”
“He had an alibi.”
“Where was he?”
“At a client dinner.”
“Confirmed?”
“By twelve people.”
I shook my head.
“So Dominic didn’t kill Dad.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying Dad’s death may not have been natural.”
The hallway became silent.
I could hear the hum of fluorescent lights.
My own breathing.
Nothing else.
“What did the autopsy say?”
“There wasn’t one.”
I looked at him in disbelief.
“What?”
“Dad had a documented cardiac history.”
“The family physician signed off.”
“The death certificate listed myocardial infarction.”
“Who was the physician?”
Victor’s face changed.
I already knew the answer before he said it.
“Dr. Raymond Kessler.”
The same doctor tied to Sophia.
I nearly stumbled.
Victor caught my arm.
“No.”
I pulled away.
“No.”
“Dad’s doctor became Sophia’s doctor?”
“Yes.”
“Who recommended him?”
Victor looked at me.
I knew.
I didn’t want to know.
“Dominic.”
Victor nodded.
My hands began to shake.
“Oh my God.”
“Vivienne.”
“He insisted.”
“He said Kessler was the best.”
Victor looked sick.
“I remember.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me Kessler treated Dad?”
“You were grieving.”
“And Dominic handled most of Sophia’s appointments.”
“He made sure I didn’t know.”
Victor didn’t disagree.
My phone buzzed again.
I stared at it.
Unknown number.
A single sentence:
YOUR FATHER WAS TRYING TO WARN YOU.
My breath caught.
Then a photograph appeared.
A handwritten page.
My father’s handwriting.
I knew it instantly.
At the top:
VIVIENNE.
My knees weakened.
Victor grabbed the phone.
“Where did they get this?”
I zoomed in.
The page was incomplete.
Only the first lines were visible.
Vivienne,
If you are reading this, then I failed to speak to you in time.
There are things about Dominic you do not know.
Things I should have discovered before I allowed him into this family.
My vision blurred.
“That’s Dad.”
Victor said nothing.
“That’s his handwriting.”
“I know.”
Another message arrived.
THE REST IS WHERE HE LEFT IT.
Victor immediately typed back.
WHERE?
No response.
He called the number.
Disconnected.
“Can you trace it?”
“I already have people trying.”
Another message arrived.
EAST WING.
THIRD LOCKBOX.
THE KEY IS NOT WITH THE FAMILY.
Victor stared at the screen.
“Third lockbox?”
I asked.
He shook his head.
“There are only two.”
“Apparently not.”
We stood there silently.
Then the clinic door opened.
Dr. Patel stepped out.
I ran toward him.
“Sophia?”
“She’s stable.”
My heart dropped back into place.
“Her cardiac function looks normal.”
“No sign of the condition described in the insurance file.”
Victor asked,
“Toxicology?”
“We found something unusual.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
Dr. Patel looked at both of us.
“Long-term exposure markers.”
“To what?”
“A sedative compound.”
My legs went weak.
“No.”
“It’s low-level.”
“Not enough to cause immediate overdose.”
“But consistent exposure over months could produce fainting, fatigue, dizziness, irregular heartbeat.”
I covered my mouth.
Sophia’s fainting.
The supposed cardiac concern.
The medication.
It had all created a medical history.
Victor’s eyes turned cold.
“Could someone intentionally create symptoms that imitate a heart condition?”
Dr. Patel hesitated.
“Potentially.”
I started crying.
Quietly.
Not because I was weak.
Because every memory from the past two years was rearranging itself.
Sophia saying she felt tired.
Sophia falling asleep during breakfast.
Sophia fainting at school.
Dominic carrying her into the car while I cried.
Dominic reassuring me.
Don’t worry, Viv.
I’ll handle everything.
He had handled everything.
Too much.
“Can you tell when the exposure stopped?”
Dr. Patel nodded.
“Approximately seven to nine months ago.”
Eight months.
Exactly when Dominic had stopped giving her medication.
I looked at Victor.
“He was dosing her.”
Victor’s face tightened.
“We don’t know that yet.”
“I do.”
“Vivienne.”
“He gave her the medicine every morning.”
“He chose the doctor.”
“He handled the prescription.”
“He stopped it.”
Victor did not argue again.
My phone rang.
This time it wasn’t unknown.
Dominic.
I stared at his name.
Victor reached for the phone.
“Don’t.”
“No.”
I answered.
“What?”
His voice came through quietly.
“Vivienne.”
I said nothing.
“Is Sophia okay?”
My chest tightened.
“How do you know she’s being tested?”
Silence.
That was answer enough.
Victor mouthed,
Put it on speaker.
I did.
Dominic continued.
“I know you.”
“I knew you would have her checked.”
“Did you poison her?”
The words came out before I could stop them.
Silence.
Then:
“No.”
“Did you give her something that made her faint?”
“No.”
“Did you know the medicine was causing symptoms?”
He hesitated.
My stomach turned.
“Dominic.”
“I was told it was harmless.”
I stopped breathing.
Victor stepped closer.
“Who told you?”
Dominic heard him.
“Victor.”
“Who told you?”
Dominic exhaled.
“You’re asking the wrong question.”
“Then give me the right one.”
“The question is why I agreed.”
I gripped the phone.
“Agreed to what?”
Dominic’s voice cracked.
“To make Sophia look sick.”
I almost dropped the phone.
Victor went completely still.
“Why?”
I whispered.
Dominic began crying.
I had never heard him cry like that.
Not even when his mother died.
“They had me.”
“Who?”
“They knew everything.”
“Who?”
“They had records.”
“Transfers.”
“Things I’d done.”
“They said if I didn’t cooperate, I’d lose the company.”
Victor’s voice turned hard.
“So you drugged your daughter to save your company?”
“No!”
Dominic shouted.
“I didn’t know what the plan was.”
“They told me she only needed to show symptoms for the insurance underwriting.”
I felt sick.
“Insurance?”
“They said it was financial protection.”
“You signed a twenty-million-dollar policy on her life!”
“I never thought anything would happen to her.”
“Then why create false medical records?”
Dominic said nothing.
“Answer me!”
“Because they needed the policy approved under a high-risk structure.”
Victor frowned.
“That makes no sense.”
“It does if the policy wasn’t the goal.”
Silence.
Victor looked at me.
“What was the goal?”
Dominic whispered,
“The trust.”
My blood went cold.
“What trust?”
“Not Sophia’s education trust.”
“The Sterling succession trust.”
Victor’s face changed.
Completely.
“What did you just say?”
Dominic continued.
“Your father created it years ago.”
“It activates under specific family-loss conditions.”
I looked at Victor.
“What is he talking about?”
Victor didn’t answer.
“Victor.”
His silence terrified me.
Dominic laughed bitterly through the phone.
“He never told you?”
“Shut up.”
Victor’s voice was deadly.
“Oh, this is rich.”
Dominic sounded almost relieved to finally have something Victor didn’t control.
“Perfect Victor Sterling.”
“Still keeping secrets.”
I looked at my brother.
“What succession trust?”
Victor closed his eyes.
“Our father created a protected asset structure.”
“For what?”
“In case the family faced catastrophic loss.”
“What kind of loss?”
“Death.”
I stared at him.
Dominic spoke through the speaker.
“Multiple deaths.”
My skin turned cold.
Victor said,
“Dominic, stop talking.”
“No.”
I stepped between him and the phone as though that mattered.
“Keep talking.”
Dominic did.
“If two direct Sterling heirs die within a defined period, certain assets consolidate before being redistributed.”
I felt ill.
“Which heirs?”
Victor looked away.
Dominic answered.
“You.”
“And Sophia.”
I couldn’t breathe.
The hallway blurred.
Victor grabbed my shoulders.
“Vivienne.”
“No.”
I pushed him away.
“You knew?”
“I knew the trust existed.”
“Did you know Sophia was included?”
“Yes.”
My voice broke.
“And you never told me?”
“It was estate planning.”
“It was never supposed to matter.”
“Someone made it matter!”
Victor said nothing.
Dominic continued.
“That’s what your father discovered.”
We both froze.
“What?”
“He found out someone had accessed the succession trust documents.”
“When?”
“The week before he died.”
Victor stared at the phone.
“How do you know?”
“Because he called me.”
The call.
Forty-three minutes before my father died.
I closed my eyes.
“What did he say?”
Dominic’s voice changed.
“He asked whether I had ever seen the trust documents.”
“And?”
“I lied.”
“What did you know?”
“I had seen parts of them.”
“Where?”
“Someone sent them to me.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Victor shouted.
“Stop lying!”
“I swear!”
“Then why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because by then I was already using Vivienne’s identity for financing.”
I felt disgusted.
“And Dad found out.”
“Yes.”
The truth settled slowly.
My father hadn’t called Dominic for a friendly conversation.
He had called to confront him.
“What did Dad say?”
Dominic went quiet.
Then he spoke softly.
“He told me to stay away from you.”
My eyes filled.
“He said?”
“He said he knew I had married you partly because of the Sterling name.”
My heart cracked.
Victor looked at me.
I turned away.
Dominic continued.
“He told me I had one chance.”
“One chance for what?”
“To confess everything to you.”
“And did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because before I could, he died.”
There it was.
The sentence that changed the shape of everything again.
Victor’s jaw tightened.
“Did you kill him?”
“No.”
“Did you help anyone kill him?”
“No.”
“Did you know he was going to die?”
Silence.
“Dominic.”
“I knew someone had threatened him.”
I stared at the phone.
“What?”
“He told me on the call.”
“He said someone had been inside the archive.”
“He said someone was trying to trigger the succession provisions.”
Victor closed his eyes.
“Oh God.”
“What did Dad ask you to do?”
“He told me to protect Vivienne.”
I almost laughed from the cruelty of it.
“And instead you did all of this.”
Dominic began crying again.
“I know.”
“No.”
My voice hardened.
“You don’t get to cry now.”
Then he said something unexpected.
“I wasn’t talking about me.”
Victor frowned.
“What?”
“When your father said protect Vivienne, he didn’t mean from me.”
My heart stopped.
“Who did he mean?”
Dominic whispered,
“Your mother.”
The hallway went silent.
Victor stared at the phone.
I laughed once in disbelief.
“Our mother?”
“Yes.”
“You’re insane.”
“I wish I was.”
Victor grabbed the phone.
“You say another word about my mother without proof and—”
“I have proof.”
Victor stopped.
“What proof?”
“A recording.”
“Of who?”
“Your father.”
My heart pounded.
“Where?”
Dominic inhaled.
“I hid it.”
“Where?”
“In the third lockbox.”
Victor and I looked at each other.
The anonymous message.
EAST WING.
THIRD LOCKBOX.
THE KEY IS NOT WITH THE FAMILY.
Victor’s voice changed.
“You knew about the third lockbox.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because I was afraid of what was inside.”
“What is inside?”
Dominic whispered,
“Your father’s last confession.”
My blood turned cold.
“And one more thing.”
“What?”
“The identity of the person who arranged the insurance policies.”
Victor stared at the phone.
“Who?”
Dominic exhaled.
“Your mother’s private attorney.”
Victor frowned.
“Leonard Shaw?”
“Yes.”
My stomach dropped.
Leonard Shaw had served our family for almost thirty years.
He attended birthdays.
Funerals.
Thanksgiving dinners.
He held Sophia when she was a baby.
Victor’s voice went low.
“Where is Shaw now?”
Dominic said,
“You tell me.”
The line went dead.
Victor immediately dialed one of his men.
“Find Leonard Shaw.”
The response came faster than either of us expected.
A security officer entered the hallway.
“Mr. Sterling.”
Victor turned.
“We already tried.”
“And?”
“Shaw disappeared three hours ago.”
My heart dropped.
“What do you mean disappeared?”
“His house is empty.”
“Phone off.”
“Vehicle abandoned near the airport.”
Victor swore.
Then the officer added,
“There’s more.”
“What?”
“We identified the man who photographed Sophia outside the gala.”
He handed Victor the tablet.
A face appeared.
Gray hair.
Glasses.
Older.
I had never seen him before.
Victor had.
His face went pale.
“You know him?”
I asked.
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
Victor swallowed.
“He was Dad’s private investigator.”
“Was?”
“He died six years ago.”
I stared at him.
“No.”
Victor zoomed in.
Same face.
Older.
But unmistakable.
“He didn’t die.”
The officer shook his head.
“Apparently not.”
My phone buzzed again.
One final anonymous message.
HE HAS THE KEY.
Victor and I looked at the photograph.
Dad’s supposedly dead private investigator.
The man watching Sophia.
The man who apparently carried the key to a hidden lockbox inside our family archive.
Then another message arrived.
MIDNIGHT.
STERLING ESTATE.
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT THE TRUTH.
I checked the time.
11:18 p.m.
Forty-two minutes.
Victor shook his head immediately.
“You’re not going.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No.”
“Someone has answers.”
“Or someone has a trap.”
“Then come with me.”
“The message says alone.”
“I don’t care what the message says.”
I looked through the glass door toward Sophia’s room.
My daughter was sleeping safely inside.
For now.
Then I looked back at Victor.
“Whoever did this has been inside our family for years.”
“They forged Dad’s name.”
“They used my identity.”
“They manipulated Dominic.”
“They created a false illness for Sophia.”
“And they may have killed our father.”
Victor’s eyes hardened.
“I know.”
“So we finish it.”
He stared at me for a long moment.
Then nodded.
“Together.”
At 11:47 p.m., we reached the Sterling estate.
The house where I had grown up looked different in darkness.
Colder.
Older.
Almost unfamiliar.
Security surrounded the property, but Victor ordered them to remain outside the east wing.
We entered through the archive corridor.
Dust hung in the air.
The old wooden shelves stretched from floor to ceiling.
Victor moved toward the back wall.
“There are two lockboxes here.”
He opened a hidden panel.
Two steel doors.
One above the other.
I stared.
“Where’s the third?”
He examined the wall.
Nothing.
Then I noticed something.
A small scratch in the wood.
Three lines.
I pressed the panel beside it.
Click.
A narrow compartment opened.
Inside was a third lockbox.
Victor stared.
“Dad never showed me this.”
I touched the keyhole.
“No key.”
A voice came from behind us.
“No.”
“We brought one.”
We turned.
A man stepped from the darkness.
The same man from the photograph.
Dad’s investigator.
Alive.
Victor immediately reached inside his jacket.
The man raised both hands.
“If I wanted you dead, Victor, you wouldn’t have made it through the gate.”
“Who are you?”
I asked.
He looked at me.
“Samuel Reed.”
“My father’s investigator?”
“Yes.”
“You were supposed to be dead.”
“That was the idea.”
Victor’s voice was cold.
“Why?”
“Because your father discovered something powerful people would kill to hide.”
Samuel reached inside his coat slowly.
Victor raised his weapon.
“Easy.”
Samuel removed a small brass key.
He held it out to me.
“Your father wanted you to have this.”
I did not move.
“Why now?”
“Because Dominic finally broke.”
“You’ve been watching him?”
“For years.”
“Why?”
“Because your father asked me to.”
Victor stared at Samuel.
“Dad knew Dominic was dangerous?”
Samuel looked at me.
“He knew Dominic was weak.”
“There’s a difference.”
“Dominic was used.”
I felt sick.
“By my mother?”
Samuel’s eyes darkened.
“Not exactly.”
Victor stepped closer.
“Then who?”
Samuel looked toward the lockbox.
“Open it.”
I took the key.
My hand shook as I inserted it.
Click.
The steel door opened.
Inside were three things.
A sealed letter with my name.
A digital recorder.
And a photograph.
I picked up the photograph first.
My father.
My mother.
Leonard Shaw.
Dr. Kessler.
And a fifth person.
A man I recognized instantly.
Harrison Whitmore.
Vanessa’s father.
My breath caught.
Victor whispered,
“What the hell?”
Samuel said,
“That photograph was taken eleven years ago.”
“Before you married Dominic.”
I stared at Harrison’s face.
“What were they doing together?”
Samuel looked at me.
“Building the arrangement that eventually became Hale Dynamics.”
My mind stopped.
“Hale Dynamics existed before that.”
“The shell structure didn’t.”
Victor grabbed the recorder.
“What’s on this?”
“Your father’s final statement.”
I picked up the letter.
My name was written across the front.
Vivienne.
I tore it open.
The first sentence made my hands shake.
My dearest Vivienne,
If you are reading this, then the betrayal came from inside our family exactly as I feared.
Victor leaned closer.
I kept reading.
Do not trust the story they tell you about Dominic.
He is guilty of many things, but he is not the architect.
My heart pounded.
The next line was worse.
The architect is someone you have loved your entire life.
I stopped.
Victor looked at me.
“Keep reading.”
I did.
And when I reached the final paragraph…
I could no longer breathe.
Because my father had written one name.
Not my mother.
Not Leonard Shaw.
Not Harrison Whitmore.
A Sterling.
Our blood.
Someone who had been standing beside me through every crisis.
Someone who knew every trust.
Every password.
Every weakness.
Every person.
My eyes slowly lifted from the page.
Victor stared at me.
“What?”
I couldn’t speak.
He reached for the letter.
I pulled it away.
“Vivienne.”
I stepped backward.
Samuel said nothing.
Victor looked between us.
“What does it say?”
My voice finally came.
Barely above a whisper.
“Dad says the person behind everything…”
I looked directly at my brother.
“…was one of his sons.”
Victor froze.
And then…
From somewhere outside the archive…
A gunshot shattered the silence.
