The knocking came again.
Three slow knocks.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
I froze.
For a few seconds, I couldn’t even breathe.
The black envelope was still in my hand.
ADRIAN BLACKWOOD.
The name seemed to stare back at me.
I looked toward the apartment door.
No one spoke.
No footsteps.
Nothing.
I placed the envelope on the table and slowly walked toward the door.
My father’s voice returned to me.
Stay away from the Blackwoods.
Then Adrian’s voice.
Your father didn’t die because of an accident.
I stopped with my hand inches from the lock.
Maybe I shouldn’t open it.
Maybe whoever was standing outside was exactly the person Adrian had warned me about.
The knocking came again.
Three times.
I looked through the peephole.
At first, I saw nothing.
Then a woman stepped into view.
She looked to be in her late forties.
Dark coat.
Dark hair.
Tired eyes.
She wasn’t holding a weapon or anything threatening.
But something about her made my stomach tighten.
She looked directly at the door.
As if she knew I was watching her.
Then she said: —Sophia?
I stepped back.
How did she know my name?
—Who are you?
The woman didn’t answer.
Instead, she reached into her coat and pulled out a small photograph.
She held it against the peephole.
My heart stopped.
It was my father.
But he wasn’t alone.
He was standing beside a much younger man.
A boy.
I recognized him immediately.
Adrian.
I opened the door.
The woman lowered the photograph.
—You shouldn’t have done that.
—Who are you?
She looked past me into the apartment.
Then at the envelope on the table.
Her expression changed.
—You found it.
I didn’t move.
—Found what?
Her eyes returned to mine.
—The box.
My blood went cold.
—How do you know about the box?
She took a slow breath.
—Because your father asked me to make sure you found it.
I stared at her.
—My father is dead.
—Yes.
Her answer was so quiet that it hurt.
—And he knew he was going to die?
The woman looked away.
That was enough.
I stepped backward.
—You knew him.
—Very well.
—Who are you?
She hesitated.
—My name is Evelyn Carter.
The name meant nothing to me.
But she seemed to recognize something in my expression.
—Your father and I worked together.
—Where?
She didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, she looked at the black envelope.
—Before I tell you anything, you need to understand one thing.
—What?
—Adrian Blackwood is not the person you should be afraid of.
My heart skipped.
I almost laughed.
—That’s funny.
—Why?
—Because Adrian is the person who came to my father’s grave and told me his family was looking for something my father hid.
Evelyn’s expression hardened.
—He was telling you the truth.
I stared at her.
—Then why should I trust him?
—You shouldn’t.
That answer surprised me.
She continued: —But you shouldn’t hate him either.
I didn’t know what to say.
Evelyn stepped closer.
—Your father never hated Adrian.
I remembered the photograph.
Daniel standing beside a young Adrian.
They looked strangely comfortable together.
Like they had known each other for years.
—Why would my father know him?
Evelyn looked at the photograph.
—Because Daniel was supposed to protect him.
I frowned.
—Protect Adrian?
She nodded.
—From his own family.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
—What does that mean?
Evelyn shook her head.
—Not here.
—Then where?
She looked toward the hallway.
—Somewhere they can’t hear us.
—Who?
She didn’t answer.
She simply said: —The Blackwoods.
I felt a chill run through me.
—They’re watching me?
Evelyn’s silence was an answer.
I looked toward the window.
The city lights blurred against the glass.
For the first time since arriving at Westbridge, I realized something terrifying.
Maybe Adrian hadn’t been exaggerating.
Maybe someone really had been watching me.
I turned back to Evelyn.
—Tell me what happened the night my father died.
Her expression changed.
For the first time, I saw fear in her eyes.
—You aren’t ready.
—I’m eighteen.
I’m old enough to know how my father died.
—You think you want the truth.
She lowered her voice.
—You don’t know what the truth will cost you.
I stepped closer.
—I’ve spent six years believing my father died in an accident.
—Because that’s what they wanted you to believe.
—Who?
Evelyn looked toward the door.
—The same people who made sure no one investigated what really happened.
I swallowed.
—The Blackwoods?
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she pointed at the envelope.
—Open it.
My eyes went to the black envelope.
—You know what’s inside?
—No.
—Then why are you telling me to open it?
—Because your father addressed it to Adrian.
She paused.
—And because if he wanted Adrian to have it, there was a reason.
I picked up the envelope.
My hands were shaking.
The seal was already slightly damaged from where I had touched it earlier.
I pulled it open.
Inside was a single photograph.
I turned it over.
My breath caught.
It showed my father.
And Adrian.
But this time, Adrian wasn’t a child.
He looked about sixteen.
Maybe seventeen.
My age.
They were standing outside an old building.
I recognized it immediately.
Blackwood Theater.
The photograph had been taken years after my father’s supposed death date.
I stared at it.
Then I looked at Evelyn.
—This is impossible.
She didn’t move.
—My father died six years ago.
—Yes.
—Adrian was still a teenager.
—Yes.
—Then this photograph…
My voice disappeared.
Evelyn finished the sentence for me.
—Was taken three months before Daniel died.
I looked back at the photograph.
There was something written on the back.
I turned it over.
My father’s handwriting.
Three words.
ASK ADRIAN WHY.
My stomach twisted.
—Why would he write this?
Evelyn shook her head.
—Because he knew you would eventually find it.
I stared at the words.
Ask Adrian why.
Why what?
Why was he with my father?
Why did my father trust him?
Why had Adrian never mentioned this?
Why had everyone lied to me?
My phone suddenly vibrated.
I nearly dropped the photograph.
Unknown number.
Again.
I stared at the screen.
Evelyn’s face went pale.
—Don’t answer.
The phone continued vibrating.
—Why?
—Because they know you found the photograph.
The call stopped.
A second later, a message appeared.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT THE BOX CLOSED.
My hands went cold.
Another message appeared.
NOW ASK ADRIAN WHAT HE DID THAT NIGHT.
Evelyn grabbed my wrist.
—You have to leave.
—What?
—Now.
—Why?
She pointed toward the window.
I walked closer.
Across the street, a black car was parked beneath a streetlight.
Someone was sitting inside.
Watching the building.
I stepped away from the window.
—How long have they been there?
—Long enough.
Evelyn grabbed her coat.
—Come with me.
I hesitated.
—Where?
—Somewhere safe.
I almost laughed.
—You just told me not to trust Adrian, and now you’re asking me to trust you?
Evelyn looked at me sadly.
—Your father said you’d be stubborn.
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
—He knew me well.
—Better than anyone.
She moved toward the door.
Then stopped.
—But there is something else.
I looked at her.
—What?
She turned.
—Your father didn’t hide the file from the Blackwoods.
My heart began pounding.
—Then who did he hide it from?
Evelyn stared directly at me.
—Adrian.
Silence.
I felt like the floor had disappeared beneath my feet.
—What?
—Your father didn’t trust Adrian with everything.
—But you said he was protecting him.
—He was.
—Then why hide the file from him?
Evelyn lowered her voice.
—Because Daniel believed Adrian would eventually have to choose between his family and you.
My heart stopped.
—Me?
She nodded.
—You were always part of this, Sophia.
I couldn’t breathe.
—What does that mean?
Before she could answer, someone knocked on the door.
Three times.
Evelyn froze.
We both stared at the door.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
But this time, the knocking was different.
It wasn’t slow.
It was urgent.
Then a familiar voice came from the other side.
—Sophia.
My heart sank.
Adrian.
—Open the door.
Evelyn shook her head.
—Don’t.
Adrian knocked again.
—Sophia, please.
I walked toward the door.
Evelyn whispered: —You can’t trust him.
I stopped.
On the other side, Adrian spoke again.
—Sophia, I know you found the photograph.
My eyes widened.
Evelyn looked at me.
—How does he know?
Adrian’s voice became quieter.
—Because whoever sent you that message isn’t working for my father.
I moved closer to the door.
—Then who are they?
There was silence.
A long one.
Then Adrian answered: —Someone who was there the night your father died.
I looked at Evelyn.
She had gone completely pale.
—That’s impossible.
Adrian continued: —Sophia, listen to me carefully.
His voice sounded different now.
Not cold.
Not arrogant.
Afraid.
—Do not leave with Evelyn.
Evelyn stepped backward.
I stared at her.
—Why?
Adrian answered immediately.
—Because she lied to you.
Evelyn’s eyes filled with tears.
—Adrian…
He heard her.
Silence followed.
Then Adrian said: —You told her you worked with Daniel.
Evelyn closed her eyes.
—It’s true.
—Not the whole truth.
I looked between them.
—What aren’t you telling me?
Neither answered.
I opened the door.
Adrian stood in the hallway, breathing heavily, his dark hair disheveled and his expression completely unlike the boy I had met at my father’s grave.
He looked at Evelyn.
Then at me.
Then at the photograph in my hand.
His face changed.
—You opened it.
I held up the photograph.
—You knew my father.
Adrian didn’t deny it.
—Yes.
—And you lied to me.
—Yes.
My chest tightened.
—Why?
Adrian looked at the photograph.
Then back at me.
—Because your father made me promise.
—Promise what?
He hesitated.
And in that moment, I realized something.
Whatever he was about to say had the power to change everything.
Adrian finally spoke.
—He made me promise that if you ever found out about us…
He looked directly into my eyes.
—I’d make sure you never remembered what happened that night.
I couldn’t move.
Evelyn whispered: —Adrian, no.
But he continued.
—Because Sophia…
His voice broke slightly.
—You were there too.