“Amara?”
The voice came again.
Soft.
Familiar.
“Open the door.”
My hand remained suspended above the handle.
My heart was beating so loudly I was certain whoever stood outside could hear it.
I looked at my phone.
DON’T OPEN THE DOOR.
I swallowed.
Then typed with trembling fingers.
Who are you?
The reply came almost instantly.
LOOK THROUGH THE PEEPHOLE.
I slowly moved toward the door.
There was no peephole.
Of course there wasn’t.
This wasn’t my apartment.
This was Damien Vale’s mansion, where apparently even the doors were designed to make people paranoid.
I stepped backward.
“Amara?”
The voice sounded impatient now.
“It’s me.”
Damien.
Or someone who sounded exactly like him.
I whispered, “If you’re Damien, tell me something only he would know.”
Silence.
I waited.
Then the voice answered.
“You hate black coffee.”
My stomach dropped.
It was true.
I’d told Damien that on my first day.
Nobody else should know.
My phone vibrated.
HE’S LYING.
Another message.
ASK HIM ABOUT THE WATCH.
I frowned.
“What watch?”
Silence.
I moved closer to the door.
“What watch, Damien?”
Nothing.
Then—
“Open the door, Amara.”
The voice was colder.
My blood ran cold.
I stepped away.
“No.”
The silence that followed was terrifying.
Then footsteps moved away from my door.
I waited.
One second.
Two.
Five.
Then I heard another door open somewhere down the hallway.
I grabbed my phone and ran to the bathroom window.
The curtains moved slightly.
I froze.
There was someone outside.
A shadow beneath the window.
I stepped back.
My bedroom door suddenly opened.
I spun around.
Damien stood there.
Real Damien.
His hair was messy.
His shirt sleeves were rolled up.
And his face was furious.
“Are you okay?”
I stared at him.
“You’re really Damien?”
He frowned.
“What?”
“You were at the door.”
His expression changed.
“I wasn’t.”
“I heard your voice.”
He looked toward the hallway.
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know.”
He crossed the room quickly.
“Did you open the door?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He took my phone.
His eyes scanned the messages.
His jaw tightened.
“Where did you get this?”
“The same person who’s been messaging me.”
He looked at me.
“You should have told me.”
“You weren’t exactly available.”
“I was downstairs.”
“I thought you were asleep.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Then where were you?”
He hesitated.
That tiny pause made suspicion rise in my chest.
“You’re hiding something.”
“Amara—”
“You said you wouldn’t lie to me.”
“I never said that.”
I stared at him.
He looked away.
“That was a terrible thing to say.”
“Yes.”
He handed my phone back.
Then his eyes fell on the envelope on my bed.
“What is that?”
I hesitated.
“My father left it.”
He picked it up.
His face changed the moment he saw the handwriting.
“Where did you get this?”
“Someone gave it to me.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked at the page.
His fingers trembled.
“You know this handwriting?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because my father wrote it.”
Damien stared at the words.
Then whispered,
“He trusted me.”
I looked at him.
“You knew?”
“No.”
He sat on the edge of the bed.
For the first time, Damien Vale looked completely broken.
“My father told me once that Jonathan Bell was the only man he trusted outside our family.”
My heart tightened.
“Then why was my father arrested?”
Damien looked up.
“Because Richard was already dead.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“No.”
He looked at the letter again.
“It doesn’t.”
I sat beside him.
“Tell me everything.”
He was quiet for a long time.
Then he finally spoke.
“My father didn’t trust my mother.”
I waited.
“He suspected she was stealing from the company.
He believed she was working with people inside the organization.”
“Sebastian?”
Damien’s eyes lifted sharply.
“How do you know about Sebastian?”
I hesitated.
Then showed him the photograph.
His face went pale.
“Where did you get this?”
“Someone sent it.”
He took the phone.
His fingers tightened around it.
“This photograph was never supposed to exist.”
“What does that mean?”
“I thought it was destroyed.”
“Who took it?”
“I don’t know.”
I pointed at the photograph.
“My father gave Sebastian something.”
Damien nodded.
“The ledger.”
My heart sank.
“You knew.”
“I suspected.”
“You always suspect everything.”
“Because everyone keeps lying to me.”
“And you’re not?”
His eyes met mine.
“No.”
The answer was quiet.
I believed him.
That was becoming a problem.
Damien stood.
“Stay here.”
“Where are you going?”
“To find Sebastian.”
“At three in the morning?”
“Yes.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“I need answers too.”
“Amara.”
“Don’t tell me to stay here.”
His jaw tightened.
“You’re impossible.”
“So I’ve been told.”
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Then he picked up his jacket.
“Fine.”
We found Sebastian in the study.
He was standing beside the fireplace with a glass of whiskey in his hand.
He looked completely calm.
Too calm.
He glanced at Damien.
Then at me.
“Something wrong?”
Damien closed the door behind us.
“Where were you tonight?”
Sebastian took a sip.
“Here.”
“Doing what?”
“Drinking.”
“Alone?”
Sebastian smiled.
“Do you want me to say no?”
Damien stepped closer.
“What happened to the ledger?”
The glass stopped halfway to Sebastian’s mouth.
Silence.
Then he slowly lowered it.
“What ledger?”
My stomach tightened.
Damien didn’t blink.
“The black ledger.”
Sebastian’s expression remained perfectly neutral.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I stepped forward.
“My father gave it to you.”
That got a reaction.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
But I saw it.
Sebastian’s fingers tightened around the glass.
Damien saw it too.
“Amara,” he said quietly.
I ignored him.
“You were there the night Richard died.”
Sebastian’s smile disappeared.
“Yes.”
“You saw my father.”
“Yes.”
“He gave you something.”
Sebastian looked at Damien.
Then back at me.
“I can’t help you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re asking questions you don’t understand.”
“Then explain them.”
He shook his head.
“You need to leave this alone.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Because everyone knows what happens to people who don’t.”
Damien’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“Sebastian.”
His friend looked at him.
“You’re lying to us.”
Sebastian laughed bitterly.
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“By lying?”
“By surviving.”
The room fell silent.
Then Sebastian looked directly at me.
“Your father didn’t give me the ledger.”
I frowned.
“Then what did he give you?”
Sebastian placed his glass on the table.
“A warning.”
“What warning?”
He looked at Damien.
“He told me that if anything happened to him, I should protect his daughter.”
My breath caught.
Damien’s expression changed.
“What else?”
Sebastian looked away.
“He said you would eventually find out.”
“Find out what?”
Sebastian didn’t answer.
Damien grabbed his shoulder.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Sebastian pushed his hand away.
“Your mother didn’t kill Richard alone.”
Silence.
My heart stopped.
“What?”
Sebastian looked at me.
“There was someone else in the room.”
“Who?”
He opened his mouth.
A gunshot shattered the window.
Sebastian fell.
I screamed.
Damien grabbed me and pulled me to the floor.
“Stay down!”
Another shot.
Glass exploded across the room.
Damien crawled toward Sebastian.
“Sebastian!”
No answer.
Blood spread across Sebastian’s shirt.
I covered my mouth.
“Is he dead?”
Damien checked his pulse.
“No.”
He looked toward the broken window.
“Someone is outside.”
I crawled toward Sebastian.
His eyes opened.
He grabbed my wrist.
His voice was barely a whisper.
“Your father…”
I leaned closer.
“What?”
“He didn’t…”
His eyes closed.
“Sebastian!”
Damien pulled him away from the window.
I looked at the blood on my hands.
Then at Damien.
“This is because of me.”
“No.”
“They’re killing everyone who knows the truth.”
“No.”
He took my face gently between his hands.
“Look at me.”
I did.
His eyes were fierce.
“This is not your fault.”
“But—”
“Look at me, Amara.”
I stopped.
“I won’t let them hurt you.”
Something inside me broke.
I didn’t know whether it was fear.
Relief.
Or something much more dangerous.
I leaned toward him.
He didn’t move away.
Our faces were inches apart.
His eyes dropped to my lips.
“Damien…”
“I know.”
His voice was barely audible.
Then he kissed me.
It wasn’t gentle.
It wasn’t planned.
It was desperate.
Like both of us had been holding our breath for too long.
His hand slid around my waist.
I gripped his shirt.
For one moment, there were no murders.
No ledger.
No secrets.
No families.
Just him.
Just me.
Then he pulled away.
His forehead rested against mine.
“This can’t happen.”
I was breathing hard.
“Why?”
“Because you’re already in enough danger.”
I looked into his eyes.
“Maybe you’re the danger.”
His mouth curved into the smallest smile.
“Maybe.”
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed instantly.
“What?”
I watched him.
“Where?”
Silence.
Then—
“Don’t touch anything.
I’m coming.”
He hung up.
“What happened?”
He looked at me.
“It was the police.”
My stomach dropped.
“What did they say?”
His face was completely pale.
“They found a body.”
“Whose?”
He stared at me.
“Victoria Vale’s.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
“She was found dead less than ten minutes ago.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Because Victoria Vale wasn’t just Damien’s mother.
She was the woman holding the knife in the photograph.
The woman who knew about the ledger.
And the woman who was supposed to know the truth.
Now she was dead.
And whoever killed her…
had just removed the only person who could tell us what really happened.