Chapter 4 - The Fire Behind the Library Door
My mother held the photograph like it could burn her.
"Tell me," I said.
"Not here."
"Here is exactly where."
Damian stepped away, giving us space.
I noticed that.
My mother noticed too.
"Your father wasn't who you thought."
"Apparently nobody tonight is."
She flinched.
Good.
I was tired of protecting everybody else's feelings.
"My father worked for the Vescari family?"
"Yes."
"Doing what?"
"Security."
Damian looked surprised.
"Private security," she clarified. "Not what you're thinking."
She turned the photograph.
Two younger men stood beside a loading dock.
One was Damian's father.
The other was mine.
"Nathaniel discovered someone was using Vescari shipping contracts to move illegal goods through legitimate ports."
Damian's face hardened.
"My father knew?"
"No. Nathaniel was trying to tell him."
"Trying?"
"He disappeared first."
My stomach twisted.
"You told me he left us."
"I told you what kept you alive."
The sentence hurt more than I expected.
"You let me hate him."
"I let you survive."
"Those aren't the same thing."
"No."
Her eyes filled.
"They aren't."
A siren sounded from inside Blackwood.
Cole spoke into his radio.
Damian asked, "Why tonight?"
My mother looked at me.
"Because Elena turned twenty-eight."
I laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
"What magical thing happens at twenty-eight?"
"Your father left you something."
"What?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"He never told me where."
Damian suddenly looked toward the house.
"The library."
We all followed his gaze.
"What?" I asked.
"Marco's badge. 9:17."
"So?"
"You entered the library at 9:17."
My mother went pale.
Damian continued.
"Marco said she wasn't supposed to be there."
Cole understood first.
"They weren't attacking the party."
Damian nodded.
"They were searching Blackwood."
"For what?" I asked.
His eyes settled on me.
"Something your father hid."
I should have walked away.
Any sensible person would have.
The building was burning.
Armed strangers had entered the estate.
My ankle hurt.
My lungs hurt.
My mother had just dismantled fourteen years of my life in five minutes.
Instead I said, "We're going back."
Damian stared.
"No."
"My father hid something in that library."
"Possibly."
"And people are willing to burn this place to find it."
"Exactly why you're staying outside."
"That's adorable."
His eyebrows lifted.
"Adorable?"
"The idea that after everything tonight, you think I'm waiting in the rain while you discover why people are hunting me."
My mother said, "Elena—"
"No."
I looked at her.
"You had fourteen years."
That ended the argument.
Damian studied me.
Then sighed.
"Stay beside me."
"I can do that."
"Not behind."
"Progress."
We reentered Blackwood through the west service entrance with firefighters controlling the lower-floor flames.
The library wing had suffered smoke damage but wasn't fully engulfed.
Water covered the floor.
Glass crunched beneath our shoes.
The oak library door hung crooked.
Inside, books were scattered everywhere.
The leather chair where Damian had been sitting was overturned.
I looked at the clock.
Stopped.
9:17.
"That's creepy."
Damian approached it.
He lifted the clock from the mantel.
Behind it was a small indentation.
A keyhole.
My mother gasped.
"I've seen that."
"Where?"
"Nathaniel's notebook."
She searched her purse.
Nothing.
"I left it in the car."
Cole said, "I'll get it."
He disappeared.
Damian examined the wall.
I noticed something else.
The fireplace.
A carved wooden rose decorated the mantel.
One petal was cleaner than the others.
I pressed it.
Click.
A narrow panel opened.
Inside was a metal box.
Nobody moved.
My hands trembled.
Damian said, "You should open it."
"Why?"
"Because somebody wanted you to."
I lifted the box.
No lock.
Inside lay a flash drive.
A key.
And an envelope.
ELENA.
My father's handwriting.
I knew it instantly.
Birthday cards.
Lunchbox notes.
The last message he'd ever left me.
I opened the envelope.
My Elena,
If you're reading this, then I failed to come home.
I stopped.
Couldn't continue.
Damian waited.
No pressure.
No "keep going."
Just waited.
I breathed.
Then read.
What I discovered wasn't about one family. It was about people who built fortunes by hiding behind respectable names. I trusted someone I should not have trusted.
There is evidence.
But evidence is useless without the final key.
You are not the key.
Never believe anyone who tells you otherwise.
My heart hammered.
I continued.
The key is hidden where Damian Vescari will never look unless you make him remember what his father regretted most.
I looked up.
Damian had gone pale.
"What did your father regret most?"
"I don't know."
"You have to."
"I was thirteen when he died."
"Think."
His jaw tightened.
Then footsteps sounded behind us.
Cole returned.
But he wasn't alone.
Trevor stood beside him.
My coworker looked terrified.
"I found him near the service wing," Cole said.
Trevor raised both hands.
"I can explain."
I stared at him.
"Explain what?"
He reached into his pocket.
Damian moved instantly.
"Slow."
Trevor removed a folded sheet of paper.
He handed it to me.
It was our catering manifest.
My name was circled.
Beside it were three words.
KEEP HER INSIDE.
I looked at Trevor.
"Who gave you this?"
His eyes filled with fear.
"I don't know his real name."
"Try."
"He paid me to make sure you came tonight."
My stomach dropped.
"You knew?"
"I thought it was some rich-guy surprise. I swear."
Damian took one step toward him.
Trevor backed away.
"He said nobody would get hurt."
"Name."
"I only heard someone call him Mr. Vale."
Damian stopped.
My mother made a sound behind me.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
I turned.
"You know him."
She shook her head.
Too fast.
"Mom."
"No."
"Who is Vale?"
Before she could answer, the hidden panel beside the fireplace moved.
A second door opened behind it.
Darkness waited beyond.
Then a man's voice came from inside.
"Rebecca."
My mother's face drained of color.
May you like
She whispered one name.
"Nathaniel."
