Victoria Vale was dead.
The words repeated themselves in my head as Damien drove through the city.
Faster.
Faster.
Faster.
Streetlights blurred past the windows.
I sat beside him, my hands clasped tightly together.
Neither of us had spoken since leaving the mansion.
Finally, I broke the silence.
“Was she really murdered?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“The police wouldn’t have called me otherwise.”
“Maybe it was suicide.”
Damien glanced at me.
“Victoria didn’t believe in giving people the satisfaction of watching her die.”
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
Almost.
Then I remembered the blood on Sebastian’s shirt.
“Is Sebastian alive?”
“Yes.”
“Will he be okay?”
“The doctors are working on him.”
I nodded.
Silence returned.
But there was something else sitting between us.
Something neither of us had mentioned.
The kiss.
My first kiss with Damien Vale had happened beside a bleeding man while someone was shooting at us.
Romantic.
Completely normal.
Definitely not something I wanted to think about.
So naturally, I thought about it.
His hand around my waist.
His lips against mine.
The way he’d looked at me afterward.
This can’t happen.
I turned toward the window.
Damien noticed.
“You’re quiet.”
“So are you.”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“About Victoria?”
He paused.
“No.”
My heart skipped.
I didn’t look at him.
“Then what?”
“You.”
I finally turned.
His eyes were still on the road.
“That’s not helpful.”
“I know.”
I swallowed.
“We shouldn’t have kissed.”
“I know.”
“You regret it?”
“No.”
His answer came immediately.
I looked away again.
Neither of us spoke after that.
The Vale mansion was surrounded by police when we arrived.
Yellow tape stretched across the entrance.
A police officer approached Damien.
“Mr.
Vale.”
“Detective.”
“I’m Detective Marcus Hale.”
Damien shook his hand.
“What happened?”
“Your mother was found in the west wing.”
“Who found her?”
“One of the housekeepers.”
“When?”
“About twenty minutes ago.”
Damien’s jaw tightened.
“Where is she?”
The detective hesitated.
“You don’t want to see this.”
“I asked where she is.”
The detective sighed.
“Follow me.”
I moved with Damien.
The detective stopped me.
“You can’t come inside.”
Damien turned.
“She stays with me.”
“Mr.
Vale—”
“She stays.”
The detective studied us.
Then stepped aside.
We followed him into the house.
The air felt different.
Colder.
The west wing was dark.
A police officer stood outside a room.
Damien stopped.
“Mother?”
No answer.
He entered.
I followed.
Victoria lay beside the fireplace.
Her eyes were closed.
A dark stain covered the front of her blouse.
Blood.
Lots of it.
I looked away.
Damien didn’t move.
For the first time since I’d met him, he looked like a son.
Not a billionaire.
Not a powerful heir.
Just a man standing over his dead mother.
He whispered,
“Why?”
I didn’t know whether he was asking her or himself.
Detective Hale walked toward the body.
“We’re still determining the cause of death.”
Damien stared at the floor.
“Was anything taken?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Check the study.”
The detective frowned.
“Why?”
“Because my mother kept everything important there.”
We searched the room.
Drawers.
Cabinets.
Desks.
Nothing.
Then I noticed something.
A painting.
An enormous portrait of Richard Vale.
It hung above the fireplace.
I stared at it.
Something felt wrong.
“Damien.”
He turned.
“The painting.”
“What about it?”
“Your father.”
He walked toward me.
I pointed.
“Look at his hand.”
There was a small black object between Richard’s fingers.
Damien’s eyes widened.
“The ring.”
“What ring?”
He reached toward the painting.
Then stopped.
“It isn’t a ring.”
“What is it?”
“A key.”
He looked around.
Then at the fireplace.
“Move.”
He pushed the painting aside.
Behind it was a small metal safe.
My heart began pounding.
Damien entered a combination.
The safe opened.
Inside were several documents.
A passport.
A stack of photographs.
A USB drive.
And a small black notebook.
Damien picked it up.
“Is that—”
“The ledger?”
“No.”
He opened it.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He handed it to me.
I looked at the first page.
A list of names.
Amounts.
Dates.
Payments.
My hands trembled.
“It’s a record.”
“Of what?”
“People.”
I turned the page.
More names.
More numbers.
Then I saw one that made my stomach drop.
JONATHAN BELL.
Beside his name was a large amount of money.
I stared at it.
“No.”
Damien took the notebook.
“What?”
“My father never took money from them.”
The detective walked closer.
“What did you find?”
Damien closed the notebook.
“Nothing.”
The detective looked suspicious.
“Mr.
Vale—”
“I said nothing.”
The authority in his voice made the detective hesitate.
I looked at Damien.
He was hiding something.
Again.
But before I could confront him, my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
YOU FOUND THE BOOK.
My blood ran cold.
Another message.
NOW FIND THE MAN WHOSE NAME IS MISSING FROM IT.
I looked at the notebook.
Every page was filled.
Except one.
The final page.
It was completely blank.
Except for a single sentence.
THE FIRST BETRAYAL CAME FROM INSIDE THE FAMILY.
I looked at Damien.
“There’s something missing.”
“What?”
“A name.”
“Whose?”
“I don’t know.”
He took the notebook from me.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
His face slowly changed.
“Where are you?”
Another pause.
“Who?”
He looked at me.
“Say that again.”
His expression became unreadable.
“I’m on my way.”
He hung up.
“What happened?”
He looked toward the hallway.
“Sebastian is awake.”
My heart jumped.
“What did he say?”
Damien’s eyes met mine.
“He asked for you.”
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and fear.
Sebastian was lying in a private room.
His face was pale.
A bandage covered his shoulder.
He looked at me when I entered.
“Amara.”
I stepped closer.
“You’re alive.”
“Unfortunately.”
I almost smiled.
“Why did you ask for me?”
His expression became serious.
“Because I don’t have much time.”
Damien stood behind me.
“What are you talking about?”
Sebastian ignored him.
He looked directly at me.
“Your father didn’t give me the ledger.”
I frowned.
“You said that already.”
“Yes.”
“Then what did he give you?”
Sebastian swallowed.
“The key.”
“What key?”
He looked at Damien.
“The key to the vault.”
Damien’s expression hardened.
“What vault?”
Sebastian’s eyes filled with fear.
“The one beneath Vale Manor.”
Silence.
Damien stepped forward.
“There is no vault beneath Vale Manor.”
Sebastian laughed weakly.
“That’s what your father wanted everyone to believe.”
I stared at him.
“What is inside?”
Sebastian looked at me.
“Everything.”
“Everything?”
“Every transaction.
Every recording.
Every name.”
His eyes moved toward Damien.
“And proof of who really killed Richard Vale.”
My heart pounded.
“Who?”
Sebastian opened his mouth.
Then stopped.
His eyes widened.
He looked toward the window.
“Get down!”
A bullet tore through the glass.
Sebastian’s body jerked.
“SEBASTIAN!”
I screamed.
Damien pulled me to the floor.
Another shot.
Then another.
The room exploded into chaos.
Doctors ran into the hallway.
Police shouted.
Damien dragged me behind the bed.
“Stay down!”
“Sebastian!”
He wasn’t moving.
Blood spread across his chest.
Damien crawled toward him.
“Sebastian!”
No response.
Then Sebastian’s eyes opened.
He looked at me.
His lips moved.
I crawled closer.
“What?”
He whispered something.
I leaned closer.
“Listen carefully.”
“What?”
“The key…”
His breath shook.
“It’s not with me.”
“Where is it?”
He looked at Damien.
Then back at me.
“Your father…”
His eyes closed.
“Your father hid it…”
“Where?”
His lips barely moved.
“Inside…”
Then he stopped breathing.
I stared at him.
“Sebastian?”
Nothing.
Damien checked his pulse.
His expression told me everything.
He was gone.
Again.
Another person who knew the truth was dead.
I covered my mouth.
Tears filled my eyes.
Then Damien pulled me against his chest.
I didn’t resist.
I cried against him.
His arms tightened around me.
And for the first time, I realized something terrifying.
The people around us were dying one by one.
My father.
Victoria.
Sebastian.
And now there was only one person left who might know where the truth was buried.
Damien.
I lifted my head.
“Where is Vale Manor?”
His expression changed.
“Why?”
“Because Sebastian said my father hid the key.”
“And?”
“And I think I know where.”
“Where?”
I wiped my tears.
“Home.”
Damien frowned.
“Your father’s old house?”
“Yes.”
“My father used to visit your family before the murder.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
I stood.
“But I’m going to find out.”
Damien looked at me.
Then nodded.
“Then we’re going together.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
He took my hand.
“Because whatever is waiting for us there…”
His eyes darkened.
“…I don’t think you’re supposed to find it alone.”
And somewhere outside the hospital, a black car waited across the street.
Inside it, a woman watched them leave.
She lifted her phone.
“Tell them.”
A voice answered.
“Tell them what?”
The woman smiled.
“They found the key.”
A pause.
“And?”
Her smile disappeared.
“Now we make sure they never find the door.”