PART 2.
“This is the woman who owns half of this estate.”
Silence swallowed the ballroom.
Alex’s champagne glass nearly slipped from his fingers.
And as the woman leaned closer, her quiet smile told him something far worse:
The joke had never been hers to survive.
It had been his.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Even the orchestra seemed to understand that something had shifted.
The violinist lowered his bow.
The pianist’s fingers hovered above the keys.
Around the ballroom, conversations died beneath the glittering chandeliers.
Alex stared at the woman in crimson.
Five minutes ago, she had been carrying empty glasses.
Now half the room looked afraid to breathe around her.
He forced himself to laugh.
It came out too loudly.
“Okay,” he said.
“Very funny.”
Nobody joined him.
The host still held the microphone, but his face had become rigid.
Alex looked around.
“Seriously?
That’s the joke?”
The woman in crimson lifted one eyebrow.
“You seem disappointed.”
Her voice was soft.
It somehow carried farther than Alex’s shouting had.
The glamorous woman in silver beside him shifted uneasily.
“Alex,” she whispered, “who is she?”
Alex ignored her.
He pointed at the host.
“You said she owns half this estate.”
“Yes.”
“Which half?”
The question produced no laughter.
Alex smiled anyway.
It was the smile of a man trying desperately to convince the room that nothing had changed.
The woman in crimson glanced toward the sweeping staircase.
“The eastern residence.
The vineyard.
The lake property.
The north woods.
Forty-eight percent of the surrounding development company.”
She looked back at Alex.
“And this ballroom.”
A murmur spread across the guests.
Alex’s smile disappeared.
The estate was not simply a mansion.
The property stretched across hundreds of acres of extremely valuable land.
Tonight’s gala had been hosted there because membership in the private foundation attached to the estate represented entry into one of the most exclusive financial circles in the country.
People did not merely attend parties here.
Deals worth hundreds of millions were born here.
Alex knew that.
Everyone in the room knew that.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
The woman’s eyes rested on him.
“Evelyn Vale.”
This time the reaction was immediate.
A businessman near the staircase nearly spilled his drink.
Someone whispered, “Vale?”
Another voice answered, “As in Vale Holdings?”
The woman in silver dropped Alex’s arm entirely.
Alex heard the name echo through his mind.
Vale Holdings.
Real estate.
Energy.
Private equity.
Logistics.
Luxury hotels.
An empire built quietly enough that ordinary people rarely recognized the family behind it, but powerful enough that half the executives in the ballroom had probably borrowed money from them, competed against them, or begged them for investment.
Alex stared.
He had heard of Evelyn Vale.
Everyone in his world had.
He simply had never seen her.
Almost nobody had.
Evelyn had avoided magazines, television interviews, and public events for years.
There were rumors that she ran parts of the family empire through representatives while traveling anonymously.
Suddenly Alex remembered reading an article describing her as “the invisible heir.”
He swallowed.
Evelyn glanced at his champagne.
“You were saying something about fifty thousand dollars.”
A few guests looked away to hide their smiles.
Alex straightened.
“That was obviously a joke.”
“Was it?”
“Of course.”
“You offered me money.”
“For a dance.”
“Yes.”
“And you accepted.”
“Yes.”
“So?”
She stepped closer.
“I intend to honor our agreement.”
That confused him.
“What?”
“You wanted me to dance.”
Evelyn turned toward the orchestra.
“Maestro.”
The conductor straightened instantly.
“A waltz, please.”
The musicians hurried into position.
Music began.
Slow.
Elegant.
Merciless.
Evelyn extended one hand toward Alex.
“Shall we?”
He stared at her palm.
Dozens of phones were already raised.
Nobody was pretending not to watch anymore.
Alex understood the trap.
If he refused, he would look frightened.
If he accepted, Evelyn controlled the moment.
He had spent his entire adult life making certain nobody else controlled the moment.
So he smiled.
“Gladly.”
He placed his hand in hers.
The first thing he noticed was that Evelyn knew exactly what she was doing.
She moved effortlessly.
Alex could dance well enough for weddings, charity events, and expensive parties.
Evelyn danced as though she had learned before she had learned to drive.
They crossed the marble beneath the chandeliers.
Guests opened a circle around them.
Alex leaned slightly toward her.
“You planned this.”
Evelyn smiled.
“No.”
“You expect me to believe you just happened to be working as a waitress at your own estate?”
“I never said I was working here.”
Alex missed half a step.
Evelyn corrected it so smoothly that nobody else noticed.
“What?”
“The catering director is an old friend of my mother’s.
One of her employees became ill.
I offered to help for an hour.”
“You carried glasses.”
“I’ve done more difficult things.”
“You dressed like staff.”
“I wore the uniform they gave me.”
Alex tightened his hand around hers.
“So this is all coincidence?”
“Your behavior?”
Her smile sharpened.
“That part was entirely yours.”
Alex felt heat rise beneath his collar.
Around them, the room watched.
He lowered his voice.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“I’m studying you.”
That answer disturbed him more.
“Why?”
Evelyn did not respond immediately.
They turned beneath the chandelier.
Then she said, “Because your name appeared on my desk three weeks ago.”
Alex’s body stiffened.
“What are you talking about?”
“The Carlton redevelopment.”
His expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Evelyn noticed.
Of course she noticed.
Alex’s family company, Mercer Development, was negotiating the acquisition of a deteriorating waterfront district called Carlton Harbor.
If the deal succeeded, Mercer Development would control the largest private redevelopment project in the city’s history.
Officially, negotiations were confidential.
Very confidential.
Alex stared into Evelyn’s eyes.
“How do you know about Carlton?”
“That’s the wrong question.”
The music continued.
“What’s the right one?”
“How much do I know?”
The orchestra reached the end of the movement.
Evelyn released him.
Applause erupted.
Alex barely heard it.
She turned away.
“Wait.”
Evelyn paused.
He followed her through the crowd.
“What do you know?”
She accepted a champagne glass from a passing waiter.
Then, with deliberate calm, she said, “Enough to know your company cannot afford Carlton Harbor.”
Alex laughed.
“We have financing.”
“You have promises.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
Her gaze sharpened.
“Promises disappear.”
Alex glanced around.
People were pretending not to listen.
He lowered his voice.
“Who have you been speaking to?”
Evelyn took a sip.
“Nervous?”
“No.”
“You should be.”
Before Alex could answer, someone interrupted them.
“Evelyn.”
A tall older man approached.
Silver hair.
Black tuxedo.
Cold eyes.
Alex knew him immediately.
Charles Vale.
Evelyn’s uncle.
Chairman of Vale Holdings.
Unlike Evelyn, Charles was famous.
His face had appeared on magazine covers beside words such as ruthless, visionary, and untouchable.
He kissed Evelyn lightly on the cheek.
“Your disappearing act caused unnecessary panic.”
“I was gone for forty minutes.”
“Thirty-seven.”
“You counted?”
“I own watches.”
Then Charles looked at Alex.
The humor vanished.
“Mr.
Mercer.”
Alex extended a hand.
“Mr.
Vale.”
Charles looked at it.
He did not take it.
Alex slowly lowered his arm.
Charles said, “Your father is here.”
Alex blinked.
“My father?”
“He arrived ten minutes ago.”
That made no sense.
Richard Mercer had told Alex that he would not attend tonight.
More importantly, Richard hated surprises.
Alex turned toward the ballroom entrance.
As if summoned by the words, his father appeared.
Richard Mercer was sixty-two, broad-shouldered and severe, with the controlled expression of a man who had spent decades making other people nervous.
Tonight, however, Richard himself looked nervous.
Very nervous.
He walked straight toward them.
“Charles.”
“Richard.”
The two men shook hands.
Then Richard looked at Evelyn.
“Ms.
Vale.”
“Mr.
Mercer.”
Finally his eyes landed on his son.
“What did you do?”
Alex frowned.
“What?”
Richard stepped closer.
“I received three calls while driving here.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“One from our bank.”
Alex stopped breathing.
“One from Carlton Municipal Holdings.”
Richard’s voice grew lower.
“And one from Vale Capital.”
Alex looked at Evelyn.
She remained perfectly still.
“What happened?”
Richard’s jaw tightened.
“Our financing review has been reopened.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means everything.”
Charles Vale calmly adjusted his cuff link.
“Perhaps we should discuss business somewhere private.”
Richard nodded immediately.
Alex hated the speed of that agreement.
Charles led them toward a pair of carved doors behind the ballroom.
Evelyn followed.
Alex did too.
The woman in silver called after him.
“Alex?”
He turned.
For a moment, he had almost forgotten she existed.
She stood alone beneath the chandelier.
“Stay here, Vanessa.”
Her face hardened.
“You’re kidding.”
“Not now.”
He walked away.
The doors closed behind him.
The private library beyond them was dark and magnificent, lined floor to ceiling with ancient books.
A fireplace burned beneath a marble mantel.
Charles stood beside a long table.
Richard remained near the doors.
Evelyn walked toward the windows.
Alex finally lost patience.
“All right.
Enough theater.”
His father snapped, “Be quiet.”
Alex stared at him.
Richard had never spoken to him like that in front of strangers.
Charles placed a folder on the table.
“What is this?”
Alex demanded.
“Carlton Harbor,” Charles replied.
Alex did not touch it.
Charles opened the folder himself.
Inside were photographs.
Contracts.
Bank statements.
Emails.
Alex’s face went pale.
He recognized them.
“No.”
Richard stepped forward.
“What am I looking at?”
Alex closed the folder.
“Nothing.”
Evelyn turned from the window.
“Open it.”
Alex glared at her.
Richard grabbed the folder.
Page after page.
His expression transformed from confusion to disbelief.
Then rage.
“You borrowed against the Westbridge property?”
Alex said nothing.
Richard looked up.
“Answer me.”
“It was temporary.”
“Westbridge belongs to the parent company.”
“I know.”
“You had no authority.”
“I’m executive vice president.”
“You require board authorization for collateral above twenty million.”
Alex’s jaw tightened.
“I was going to replace it after Carlton closed.”
Richard slammed the folder down.
“You forged my authorization.”
Silence.
Charles Vale watched without expression.
Evelyn watched Alex.
That was worse.
Alex finally spoke.
“Carlton would have tripled our valuation.”
“If it succeeded!”
“It would have.”
“You gambled a flagship property on a deal we haven’t even secured!”
Alex’s anger rose.
“Because you were moving too slowly!”
Richard stared at his son.
There it was.
The sentence neither of them could take back.
Alex continued.
“You’ve spent three years talking about Carlton.
Three years of committees and consultants and cautious little meetings.
I was going to finish it.”
“You were going to steal control of it.”
“I was going to save this company from becoming old.”
Richard’s face turned expressionless.
Charles interrupted quietly.
“There is another problem.”
Alex looked toward him.
Charles slid a second document across the table.
“The lender Alex used for the Westbridge transaction was North Crescent Financial.”
Richard frowned.
“I’ve never heard of them.”
“You weren’t supposed to.”
Alex suddenly understood.
He looked at Evelyn.
She was watching him very carefully.
Charles continued.
“North Crescent is controlled by Vale Capital.”
Richard turned toward his son.
Alex felt the room tighten around him.
“No.”
Evelyn spoke.
“Yes.”
Alex shook his head.
“That’s impossible.”
“You signed electronically at 2:17 a.m. on August fourth.”
He remembered.
Of course he remembered.
He had been drinking.
Celebrating.
The financing broker had called the opportunity “private money with aggressive terms.”
He had not cared where the money came from.
Only that it arrived quickly.
Evelyn walked toward him.
“You borrowed eighty million dollars from my family.”
Alex’s throat tightened.
Charles added, “Secured against property you apparently did not have authority to pledge.”
Richard looked sick.
Alex forced himself to think.
“All right.”
He paced once.
“This is fixable.”
Nobody responded.
“We refinance.”
Charles almost smiled.
“With whom?”
Alex opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Charles continued.
“Your primary bank froze additional credit this afternoon pending investigation.”
Alex looked at Richard.
His father did not deny it.
“You did this,” Alex said to Evelyn.
“No.”
“You called them.”
“No.”
“Then how—”
“I asked a question.”
“What question?”
Evelyn tilted her head.
“I asked whether Mercer Development’s board had approved the Westbridge collateral.”
Alex stared at her.
“That’s all?”
“That was enough.”
Richard sank slowly into a chair.
For the first time in Alex’s life, his father suddenly looked old.
Alex hated Evelyn for that.
He moved closer.
“You think this makes you powerful?”
Her expression did not change.
“You humiliated me downstairs.
Congratulations.
You discovered a bad loan.
Congratulations again.”
He gestured toward the ballroom beyond the doors.
“But tomorrow people will forget the dance.
Our attorneys will fight the financing issue.
Carlton will continue.”
Evelyn studied him.
“Will it?”
Alex hesitated.
Charles reached into his jacket.
He removed an envelope.
Placed it on the table.
Alex did not touch it.
“What now?”
Charles said, “At six o’clock this evening, Vale Holdings purchased Carlton Municipal Holdings.”
Alex felt the floor disappear beneath him.
Richard slowly stood.
“You bought Carlton?”
“Controlling interest.”
“That transaction wasn’t available.”
“It became available yesterday.”
“For how much?”
Charles smiled faintly.
“That remains private.”
Alex stared at Evelyn.
She looked almost bored.
The entire Carlton Harbor project—the deal he had gambled his family company to obtain—now belonged to the family of the woman he had mocked in front of a ballroom full of witnesses.
“No.”
His voice was barely audible.
Evelyn stepped closer.
“You told me tonight that everyone has a price.”
Alex remembered saying something similar in the hallway.
He had forgotten.
She had not.
“Apparently,” Evelyn continued, “you were correct.”
Alex clenched his fists.
“What do you want?”
There it was.
The first honest question he had asked all evening.
Evelyn walked around the table.
“I wanted to meet you.”
“You could have called.”
“I wanted to see you when you didn’t know who I was.”
Alex froze.
Richard frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Evelyn ignored him.
She stopped directly opposite Alex.
“You learn remarkable things about people when they believe you cannot hurt them.”
Alex’s face hardened.
“So the waitress act was deliberate.”
“I told you I volunteered to help.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
For the first time, Evelyn’s smile vanished completely.
“It isn’t.”
Richard looked from one to the other.
“Evelyn, why was my son’s name on your desk?”
Charles turned toward his niece.
Something subtle passed between them.
A warning.
Evelyn noticed.
And ignored it.
“Because someone inside Mercer Development has been selling information.”
Richard went still.
Alex blinked.
“What?”
“Financial projections.
Property valuations.
Internal emails.
Board schedules.
Carlton strategy.”
Richard whispered, “Impossible.”
Evelyn walked toward the fireplace.
“The information began appearing six months ago.”
“Who received it?”
Richard asked.
“We did.”
Alex looked at Charles.
“You’ve been spying on us?”
Charles replied calmly, “Someone approached one of our intermediaries.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
Alex laughed bitterly.
“Convenient.”
Evelyn looked back at him.
“We know one thing.”
She reached into the crimson folds of her gown.
From a hidden pocket she removed a small black flash drive.
“The source used your executive credentials.”
Richard turned toward Alex.
Alex’s face drained.
“No.”
“Every file,” Evelyn said, “was accessed using your authorization.”
“That wasn’t me.”
Richard’s stare was devastating.
“Wasn’t it?”
“No!”
Alex slammed one hand against the table.
“I made the loan.
Fine.
I forged the authorization.
Fine.
But I didn’t sell company information.”
Evelyn watched him carefully.
And suddenly Alex understood something.
She believed him.
Or at least she had expected that answer.
“You knew,” he said.
Evelyn said nothing.
“You knew I wasn’t the leak.”
Charles’s expression tightened.
“Evelyn.”
Alex pointed at her.
“That’s why you came tonight.”
Richard looked at Evelyn.
“Is that true?”
Evelyn slowly returned the flash drive to her pocket.
“I came because whoever used Alex’s credentials made one mistake.”
“What mistake?”
Richard asked.
“They accessed a confidential file last Friday.”
Alex frowned.
“So?”
“You were in Zurich.”
Richard nodded slowly.
Alex had spent Thursday through Sunday attending a technology investment summit in Switzerland.
Evelyn continued.
“And the login came from inside Mercer headquarters.”
Silence.
Alex’s anger vanished.
Someone had used his account while he was overseas.
Someone with physical access.
Someone close enough to know his passwords or bypass them.
Richard whispered, “Who?”
Evelyn looked toward the library doors.
“I was hoping tonight would answer that.”
Alex followed her gaze.
“What are you talking about?”
Evelyn checked her watch.
Then she smiled again.
Not the playful smile from the ballroom.
Something colder.
“It already has.”
Before anyone could speak, the library doors opened.
Vanessa entered.
The woman in silver.
Alex’s girlfriend.
Her eyes moved from Alex to Richard, then to Charles.
Finally to Evelyn.
“I’m sorry,” Vanessa said.
“I know you told me to stay outside.”
Alex exhaled angrily.
“Vanessa, not now.”
She ignored him.
“I heard shouting.”
Richard looked toward Alex.
“Get her out.”
Vanessa’s face tightened.
“I only wanted to make sure Alex was okay.”
Evelyn said softly, “How thoughtful.”
Vanessa looked at her.
Their eyes met.
Something changed.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
But Alex saw it.
Recognition.
Vanessa recovered too quickly.
“You.”
Evelyn smiled.
“Me.”
Alex looked between them.
“You know each other?”
Vanessa laughed nervously.
“No.”
Evelyn said, “Yes.”
Vanessa’s face went white.
Alex took one step toward her.
“What?”
Evelyn continued.
“Vanessa attended St.
Catherine’s Academy.”
Vanessa stared at her.
“That was years ago.”
Richard frowned.
“So?”
“So did I.”
Alex looked at Vanessa.
“You told me you went to school in Boston.”
“I did.”
Evelyn nodded.
“For university.”
Vanessa’s breathing changed.
Alex noticed.
“So you knew who she was downstairs?”
“No.”
“Vanessa.”
“I hadn’t seen her in fifteen years!”
“Yet you recognized her immediately when you walked in here.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“This is ridiculous.”
Evelyn approached.
“Perhaps.”
Then she reached toward Vanessa’s neck.
Vanessa recoiled.
“Don’t touch me.”
Evelyn’s eyes dropped toward the diamond pendant resting against her chest.
Alex followed her gaze.
He had given Vanessa that necklace six months earlier.
Or rather, he thought he had.
“That’s not the necklace I bought you,” he said.
Vanessa froze.
He stepped closer.
The diamonds were similar.
But the setting was different.
He had never noticed.
“Where did you get that?”
“Alex—”
“Where?”
Vanessa backed away.
Charles suddenly moved toward the doors.
Locked them.
The click echoed through the library.
Vanessa looked around.
“What is this?”
Evelyn’s voice became almost gentle.
“That pendant contains a storage chip.”
Richard stared.
Vanessa said nothing.
Alex laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
Because his mind refused to accept what was happening.
“Take it off.”
Vanessa remained still.
“Take it off.”
“No.”
Alex’s face changed.
He reached toward her.
Vanessa slapped his hand away.
Then everything happened quickly.
Richard shouted.
Charles moved forward.
Vanessa grabbed the pendant.
There was a sharp cracking sound.
The silver casing snapped beneath her fingers.
Something tiny dropped into her palm.
She ran toward the fireplace.
Evelyn caught her wrist.
Vanessa screamed.
“Let go!”
Alex stood frozen.
The glamorous woman who had laughed at the waitress less than an hour earlier was now fighting desperately to throw a tiny memory chip into the flames.
Charles seized her other arm.
The chip fell.
It landed on the carpet.
Richard picked it up.
Nobody spoke.
Vanessa stopped struggling.
Alex stared at her.
His voice broke.
“Why?”
She looked at him.
The fear disappeared from her face.
And for the first time since he had met her, Alex saw something behind the beauty, the laughter, the carefully cultivated sweetness.
Contempt.
Pure and quiet.
“You really don’t know, do you?”
Alex stepped backward.
“Know what?”
Vanessa looked toward Richard.
Then Evelyn.
Finally back at Alex.
“You think tonight started because you insulted a waitress.”
Her lips curved into a bitter smile.
“You still think this is about you.”
Evelyn’s expression changed.
“Vanessa.”
But Vanessa kept talking.
“Ask your father.”
Richard went pale.
Alex turned toward him.
“Ask him what?”
No answer.
“Dad.”
Richard looked at Vanessa.
“Don’t.”
Vanessa laughed.
There was no warmth in it.
“Oh, now you want silence?”
Evelyn stepped forward.
“Vanessa, whatever you think you’re doing—”
“You don’t know everything either.”
For the first time all night, Evelyn looked genuinely surprised.
Vanessa pointed toward Richard.
“Ask him why the east wing of this estate was closed for eleven years.”
Charles Vale’s face changed.
Evelyn slowly turned toward her uncle.
“What?”
Vanessa smiled.
Now she had control of the room.
“Ask them.”
Alex looked between Richard and Charles.
Both older men were silent.
Vanessa continued.
“Ask what happened here nineteen years ago.”
“Enough,” Charles said.
His voice cracked like a whip.
Vanessa did not flinch.
“You can buy companies, Charles.
You can buy newspapers.
You can buy politicians.”
She looked directly at him.
“But you cannot buy a dead woman back.”
Evelyn’s face lost all color.
Alex felt cold.
“What dead woman?”
Nobody answered.
Then the fireplace popped loudly.
Everyone startled.
Vanessa used the distraction.
She tore free from Charles, unlocked the door, and ran into the hallway.
Alex started after her.
Evelyn grabbed his arm.
“Don’t.”
“She has information.”
“No.”
Evelyn looked toward the ballroom.
“She wants us to follow.”
Alex stared at her.
Then a scream came from outside.
Not from the ballroom.
From the courtyard.
Everyone ran.
They crossed the ballroom as guests turned in confusion.
Security guards rushed toward the terrace.
The doors stood open.
Cold night air swept through the room.
Alex reached the stone courtyard first.
Vanessa was nowhere in sight.
A black sedan was racing down the long driveway beyond the gates.
Security shouted into radios.
Alex leaned against the stone railing, breathing hard.
Evelyn stepped beside him.
Charles and Richard followed more slowly.
Then one of the security guards approached.
“Ms.
Vale?”
“Yes?”
“We found something.”
He held out a phone.
Vanessa’s phone.
The screen was unlocked.
A video was paused.
Evelyn took it.
Alex looked over her shoulder.
The image showed a woman standing beside the estate lake.
The footage was old.
Grainy.
A date appeared in the corner.
Nineteen years earlier.
Evelyn stopped breathing.
Alex looked at her.
“You know her?”
Evelyn did not answer.
Charles whispered, “Turn it off.”
Evelyn looked up.
Her eyes were filled with something Alex had not seen before.
Fear.
“Who is she?”
Charles said nothing.
Evelyn pressed PLAY.
The woman in the video stared directly into the camera.
Behind her stood this same estate.
This same ballroom glowing in the distance.
Then she spoke.
“If you’re watching this, they failed to destroy everything.”
Richard stepped backward.
The recorded woman continued.
“My name is Margaret Vale.”
Evelyn made a tiny sound.
Alex looked at her.
“Your mother?”
Evelyn nodded.
Her mother had supposedly died in a boating accident when Evelyn was nine.
The video continued.
Margaret glanced nervously behind her.
“What Charles and Richard are planning will destroy both families.”
Alex turned toward his father.
Richard’s face was gray.
Charles grabbed for the phone.
Evelyn pulled it away.
“No.”
“Evelyn—”
“No.”
Her voice shook.
It was the first time Alex had heard uncertainty in it.
On the screen, Margaret Vale leaned closer to the camera.
“If anything happens to me, there are records hidden beneath the east wing.”
She swallowed.
“And Evelyn must never be allowed to marry Richard Mercer’s son.”
Nobody moved.
Alex thought he had misheard.
Evelyn slowly turned toward him.
He stared back at her.
“What?”
The video continued.
Margaret’s final sentence came through the tiny speaker with perfect clarity.
“Because Alex Mercer is not Richard Mercer’s biological son.”
The recording ended.
Silence.
Even the distant ballroom seemed to vanish.
Alex looked at his father.
Richard would not meet his eyes.
“Dad?”
Nothing.
Alex stepped closer.
“Dad.”
Richard closed his eyes.
And Evelyn, still holding the phone, whispered the question nobody else seemed willing to ask.
“If Richard isn’t your father…”
She looked toward the darkened east wing of the estate.
“…then who is?”
From somewhere inside the supposedly abandoned wing, a light suddenly switched on.
One window.
Top floor.
A human silhouette appeared behind the glass.
Watching them.
Charles Vale whispered one word.
A name.
A name that made Richard stagger backward.
A name Evelyn had believed belonged to a man who had been dead for twenty years.
“Jonathan.”
The silhouette lifted one hand.
And waved.
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Source: Stories of Destiny · Thao Thao
