Chapter 11 - The Vault
Grant's confession hung in the basement.
“I opened the vault,” he repeated.
I stared at him.
“You told me you were looking for evidence.”
“I was.”
“Then what did you take?”
“Nothing.”
Victoria laughed.
“He took the ledger.”
Grant looked at her.
“You don't know what happened.”
“I know everything.”
She stepped closer to my mother.
“Your husband found the ledger before your grandfather died.”
I looked at Grant.
“What was in it?”
“Names.”
“Whose?”
“The people financing Victoria.”
Daniel opened the drive.
“There are copies.”
Victoria's face changed.
Grant noticed.
“You're afraid.”
She raised the gun.
“Give me the charter.”
I handed it toward her.
Daniel whispered, “Don't.”
I stopped.
Then I tore the document in half.
Victoria's eyes widened.
“You idiot.”
I tore it again.
“And again.”
The pieces fell to the floor.
“You wanted paper?”
I looked at her.
“Now you have paper.”
Victoria raised the gun.
My mother shouted.
Grant moved.
A gunshot cracked through the basement.
I ducked.
The bullet struck the wall.
Security rushed through the opposite door.
Victoria ran.
Victor followed.
Daniel helped my mother stand.
Grant grabbed my arm.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I thought I lost you.”
I pulled my hand away.
“You almost did.”
We found Victoria's files.
The recordings were enough to expose the entire scheme.
But one mystery remained.
The identity of the person who had ordered Victoria to begin.
My grandfather's final note had mentioned one person.
Someone close.
Someone who had stayed.
I returned to the archive.
My mother came with me.
She sat beside me.
“There is something I never told you.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“Your grandfather wasn't afraid of Victoria.”
“Then who?”
She looked at the old photograph.
“The person who controlled Victoria was inside the family.”
My blood went cold.
“Who?”
She reached into her coat.
She removed another envelope.
“I found this after your grandfather died.”
The handwriting was his.
I opened it.
One sentence.
If Eleanor ever discovers the truth, she must never trust—
The rest of the sentence had been torn away.
I looked at my mother.
“Who was he warning me about?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
My phone vibrated.
A message appeared.
You are looking in the wrong direction.
Another arrived.
The person who betrayed your grandfather is sitting beside you.
I looked at my mother.
Her face had gone white.
Then someone knocked on the archive door.
Three times.
My mother whispered:
“Don't open it.”
May you like
The handle began to turn.
And a man's voice called my childhood name—
