PART 2.
The ballroom doors locked.
Ethan saw the first page beneath my hand, and the color drained from his face.
“Claire,” he whispered.
“Don’t.”
Across the ballroom, Sheikh Adrian Rashid stepped onto the stage and lifted the microphone.
Two hundred guests waited in breathless silence.
And for the first time in four years, Ethan Blake looked at me as though he finally understood who I was.
Not the woman standing behind him.
Not the fiancée he could replace.
Not the quiet girl in the lavender dress.
The woman who could take everything back.
A metallic click echoed through the Grand Plaza ballroom as the final door sealed.
Someone near the terrace laughed nervously.
“What is this?”
Another guest tried the handle.
Locked.
Security guards in black suits moved calmly into position along the walls.
They weren’t hotel security.
I knew because I had watched Adrian’s team arrive forty minutes earlier through the service entrance.
Ethan knew too.
His eyes darted from one guard to another before returning to me.
“What did you do?”
I almost smiled.
For four years, whenever something went wrong at Blake Systems, those were the words he used.
What did you do, Claire?
As though every disaster began with me.
Even when I was the one fixing it.
“Nothing,” I said.
Vanessa gave a sharp little laugh.
“You expect anyone to believe that?”
I turned toward her.
She still had one hand looped possessively around Ethan’s arm, but her confidence was fading.
Up close, I could see it.
The slight tension in her jaw.
The way her eyes kept flicking toward Adrian.
The way she had begun calculating whether Ethan was still worth standing beside.
That was Vanessa’s gift.
She could smell a sinking ship before the captain felt the water.
Adrian tapped the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience.”
The room obeyed immediately.
“My security team has temporarily secured the ballroom because certain documents being presented tonight concern active corporate investigations.
No one is in danger.”
A murmur rippled across the room.
Corporate investigations.
Those two words struck investors harder than any alarm could have.
Phones appeared everywhere.
Ethan moved toward the stage.
“Your Highness, perhaps we should discuss this privately.”
Adrian looked at him.
“No.”
One word.
Quiet.
Absolute.
Ethan stopped.
I had never seen anyone stop Ethan with one word.
He glanced toward Daniel Mercer, chairman of the board.
Vanessa’s father.
Daniel stood near the front table, silver-haired and perfectly composed.
But he wasn’t looking at Adrian.
He was staring at me.
Or more precisely, at the folder in my hand.
He recognized it.
That interested me.
Three months earlier, I had found the folder inside an old cedar chest belonging to my father.
I had been cleaning out the storage unit after receiving the final notice on it.
Inside were old notebooks, engineering drawings, photographs, and patent documents bearing a name I had barely heard since childhood.
Dr.
Jonathan Hale.
My father.
To most people, he had been a restoration engineer obsessed with preserving old mechanical systems.
To me, he had been the man who smelled like coffee, machine oil, and cedar.
The man who taught me that broken things often revealed their true design only after they failed.
He died when I was thirteen.
For years, I believed his work had died with him.
It hadn’t.
Adrian looked toward me.
“Claire?”
My heels sounded unnaturally loud as I walked toward the stage.
Behind me, Ethan caught my wrist.
Hard.
The room reacted with a collective inhale.
“Don’t make a scene,” he muttered through clenched teeth.
I looked down at his fingers.
Then up at him.
“You already did.”
He released me.
Not because he wanted to.
Because Adrian’s head of security had taken one step forward.
I continued walking.
When I reached the stage, Adrian offered his hand again.
This time, I didn’t need it.
I climbed the stairs alone.
He seemed to understand.
The projector screen behind us came alive.
BLAKE SYSTEMS – STRATEGIC CAPITAL ANNOUNCEMENT
That was the presentation Ethan had expected.
His triumph.
The night Adrian Rashid would announce a nine-figure investment that would rescue Blake Systems from its worsening cash crisis and establish Ethan as one of the most promising technology executives in New York.
The title disappeared.
A new one appeared.
HALE RESTORATION TECHNOLOGIES
Gasps moved through the ballroom.
Ethan stared at the screen.
“What the hell is that?”
I faced the crowd.
“My father’s company.”
Daniel Mercer stood.
“Jonathan Hale never had a company.”
My eyes found him immediately.
Interesting.
“You knew my father?”
The chairman realized his mistake half a second too late.
Vanessa looked at him.
“Dad?”
Daniel ignored her.
Adrian spoke instead.
“Mr.
Mercer, perhaps you should allow Ms.
Hale to continue.”
Ethan frowned.
“Hale?”
He looked at me.
I had used my mother’s surname, Bennett, since university.
Claire Bennett.
Convenient.
Unremarkable.
Easy to underestimate.
My father’s name had appeared only on documents I never expected anyone to care about.
Until three months ago.
“My legal name,” I said, “is Claire Jonathan Hale-Bennett.”
Ethan’s expression changed.
He remembered something.
Four years ago, during our second date, I had told him my father had been an engineer.
He had barely listened.
He had been checking messages from investors.
Now he listened.
Everyone did.
I opened the folder.
“In 1998, my father developed a family of adaptive restoration systems designed to preserve damaged industrial machinery while allowing digital control architecture to be built around existing mechanical frameworks.”
Most guests didn’t understand.
The engineers did.
I saw it immediately.
Several leaned forward.
One whispered to another.
Ethan’s mouth tightened.
Because Blake Systems’ most valuable product did exactly that.
Adapt old machinery.
Digitize its controls.
Extend its life without requiring complete replacement.
The technology had transformed struggling factories.
It had won federal infrastructure contracts.
And Ethan had always claimed the central architecture was his.
He stepped forward.
“This is ridiculous.
Similar technologies have existed for decades.”
“Correct.”
I changed the slide.
Patent numbers appeared.
Diagrams followed.
Then dates.
Years before Blake Systems existed.
Years before Ethan graduated from high school.
The murmurs grew louder.
I looked directly at him.
“Your platform doesn’t merely resemble my father’s patents.”
Another click.
Technical schematics appeared side by side.
My father’s original drawing.
Blake Systems’ proprietary architecture.
They were almost identical.
“It was built from them.”
Silence.
Ethan’s mother covered her mouth.
Vanessa slowly released his arm.
Ethan laughed.
It sounded wrong.
Forced.
“Claire, you helped prepare our technical documentation.
You could have fabricated this.”
“I wondered if you would say that.”
Adrian nodded toward one of the guards.
A man entered carrying a sealed archival box.
He placed it on the stage.
Adrian addressed the audience.
“These documents were authenticated independently by three patent-law firms, two engineering laboratories, and the International Archive for Industrial Innovation.”
Ethan stopped smiling.
I opened the box.
Inside were my father’s original notebooks.
Age-yellowed pages.
Handwritten calculations.
Photographs.
And one familiar object.
His cracked gold watch.
Except the watch was no longer on my wrist.
Vanessa noticed first.
Her eyes dropped toward my empty arm.
Earlier she had mocked it.
Vintage.
She had no idea what she had been looking at.
Neither had I.
Not until Adrian showed me.
I lifted the watch.
“My father built prototypes constantly.
He distrusted banks, disliked computers, and believed important information should exist in more than one place.”
I turned the crown.
Nothing happened.
Then I pressed it inward and twisted.
The cracked face lifted.
Inside sat a tiny circular storage wafer.
Several engineers in the audience reacted.
Ethan’s face became completely still.
The wafer held dated design files.
Contracts.
Scanned correspondence.
And recordings.
Adrian’s team had spent weeks restoring them.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Daniel Mercer.
Vanessa’s father sat back down.
Very slowly.
Adrian changed the screen.
An email appeared.
FROM: DANIEL MERCER
TO: JONATHAN HALE
DATE: MARCH 14, 2002
The message was short.
Jonathan,
Take the offer.
No one funds dead technology.
Sign over the patents and walk away.
Otherwise, you will lose them anyway.
—D.M.
Vanessa stared at her father.
“What is this?”
Daniel remained silent.
Another document appeared.
A contract.
My father had refused to sign.
Then another.
A lawsuit draft.
Then letters from creditors.
Then notices from a company called Stonebridge Industrial Holdings.
Vanessa whispered, “Stonebridge?”
Her mother’s maiden name was Stone.
Everyone in New York finance knew the family money came from Stonebridge.
Vanessa’s grandfather had founded it.
My father hadn’t simply failed.
He had been crushed.
Daniel Mercer spoke carefully.
“Business disputes happen every day.
None of this establishes criminal wrongdoing.”
I looked at him.
“No.”
Then I changed the slide.
“This does.”
A bank transfer appeared.
The recipient account belonged to a junior engineer employed by my father.
Three weeks later, that engineer copied twelve boxes of technical files.
Six months later, a Stonebridge subsidiary filed patents containing modified versions of my father’s work.
Years after that, the intellectual property was transferred through three shell corporations.
Eventually, it landed inside a startup.
Blake Systems.
The room exploded.
Questions erupted.
Investors stood.
Phones rose higher.
One reporter pushed toward the front.
Ethan looked at Daniel.
Not me.
Daniel.
And in that moment, I saw something I hadn’t expected.
Confusion.
Real confusion.
Ethan knew his technology had questionable origins.
I was certain of that.
But he hadn’t known everything.
“Daniel?”
Mercer’s face hardened.
“Do not say another word.”
Ethan stared at him.
“You told me the patents came from distressed acquisitions.”
“They did.”
“You told me everything was clean.”
“Ethan.”
“You told me—”
“Enough.”
The word cracked across the ballroom.
Vanessa stepped away from both men.
I almost pitied her.
Almost.
Then she looked at me and the hatred in her eyes erased the thought.
“This is why you came tonight?”
“No.”
Her brows drew together.
I closed the folder.
“This is why I came three months ago.”
Ethan froze.
“What?”
“I found the patents three months ago.”
His face changed again.
Calculating backward.
Three months.
Investor meetings.
Technical reviews.
Acquisition negotiations.
The nights I sat beside him at our dining table reviewing contracts.
The mornings I kissed him goodbye.
The weekend we toured wedding venues.
“You knew?” he whispered.
“I suspected.”
“And you said nothing?”
“I needed to know how deep it went.”
His voice rose.
“So you spied on me?”
A bitter laugh escaped me.
That was almost impressive.
Even now he needed to be the betrayed one.
“You brought stolen technology into our apartment, Ethan.”
“I didn’t steal it!”
“You used it.”
“I built Blake Systems!”
“On my father’s work.”
“I improved it!”
“And when your attorneys discovered the patent chain was questionable?”
His silence answered for him.
The audience noticed.
So did the cameras.
I stepped closer.
“What did you do, Ethan?”
He stared at me.
I knew that look.
I had seen it whenever he was trapped in negotiations.
He would search for the weakest person in the room.
Then push.
He found me.
Or thought he did.
“You were there,” he said suddenly.
The room quieted.
He pointed at me.
“You signed internal reports.”
There it was.
“You reviewed contracts.
You helped raise money.
You prepared investor materials.
If Blake Systems committed fraud, Claire participated.”
Several investors began murmuring again.
Vanessa smiled.
A small, relieved smile.
Ethan saw it.
And pressed harder.
“She wasn’t some innocent girlfriend sitting at home.
She worked with me.
She had access to everything.”
Adrian watched me.
He didn’t intervene.
He knew this part was mine.
“Yes,” I said.
Ethan blinked.
“Yes?”
“Yes.
I had access.”
He looked almost triumphant.
“So you admit—”
“That is how I found the ledger.”
The triumph vanished.
Behind me, a new file appeared.
BLAKE SYSTEMS – OFF-BOOK LICENSING ACCOUNT
The ballroom seemed to shrink.
Ethan stared at the figures.
Millions of dollars routed through consulting agreements.
Shell companies.
Foreign licensing entities.
Executive bonuses disguised as technology fees.
And payments.
Regular payments.
To someone identified only by initials.
D.M.
Daniel Mercer’s chair scraped backward.
Adrian’s security moved immediately.
Mercer stopped.
I turned toward Ethan.
“This is the document that can destroy your company.”
“You stole confidential records.”
“They were stored on my laptop.”
“Company laptop.”
“My laptop.
Purchased on my credit card because Blake Systems couldn’t make payroll.”
A few people laughed.
Ethan flinched.
I continued.
“And because your chief financial officer emailed me the backup after you ordered him to delete it.”
That landed harder.
Ethan’s head snapped toward a table near the stage.
His CFO, Marcus Bell, stood there.
Marcus looked exhausted.
But calm.
Ethan whispered, “You.”
Marcus adjusted his glasses.
“You asked me to destroy financial records.”
“You traitor.”
“No,” Marcus said.
“Accountant.”
That earned louder laughter.
But Daniel Mercer wasn’t laughing.
His expression had become strangely peaceful.
Too peaceful.
I noticed Adrian noticing it too.
Daniel rose again.
“All of this theatrical nonsense changes nothing.”
Vanessa looked at him.
“Dad, stop.”
He buttoned his jacket.
“No, darling.
I think we’ve watched enough.”
He looked at Adrian.
“You cannot invest in Blake Systems without board approval.”
“I no longer intend to.”
Ethan swayed slightly.
That was the blow he feared most.
Without Adrian’s investment, Blake Systems had perhaps six weeks.
Maybe less.
Daniel smiled.
“Then this performance is pointless.”
Adrian returned the smile.
“You misunderstand.”
The screen changed again.
ACQUISITION AGREEMENT EXECUTED – 4:18 P.M.
Ethan stared.
Then read the buyer’s name.
HALE RESTORATION TECHNOLOGIES.
I heard his breath leave him.
“No.”
I said nothing.
He looked at me.
“No.”
This time louder.
Adrian stepped aside so the entire room could see the document.
Over the previous six weeks, Blake Systems’ lenders had quietly sold portions of distressed debt to a private investment vehicle controlled by Adrian.
That afternoon, after Ethan refused an emergency restructuring proposal without even reading it because he was too busy preparing for the gala, the final covenant was triggered.
The debt converted.
Collateral rights transferred.
And Hale Restoration Technologies acquired controlling rights to Blake Systems’ core intellectual-property subsidiaries.
Not the entire company.
Something worse.
The parts worth saving.
“You can’t do this,” Ethan said.
“It’s already done,” I replied.
His face twisted.
“You planned this.”
“I gave you an opportunity this morning.”
His eyes widened.
The envelope.
I had left it beside his coffee.
He tossed it into the trash without opening it.
He had assumed it contained wedding invoices.
Inside was a disclosure letter explaining everything I had discovered and offering him one final chance to cooperate.
He hadn’t even looked.
“I tried to tell you.”
“You could have said something!”
“You told me to stay home.”
For the first time that night, the ballroom laughed at Ethan.
Not cruelly.
Not loudly.
That was worse.
It was the involuntary laughter people made when arrogance finally became absurd.
Ethan looked around.
At investors who had once chased him.
Employees who had feared him.
Board members who praised him.
No one moved to help.
Then his eyes returned to the champagne glass.
My engagement ring still rested at the bottom.
He picked it up.
Champagne dripped from his fingers.
His voice lowered.
“This isn’t you.”
Four years of memories stood between us.
The ramen noodles we ate on the floor of his first office.
The night he cried because our first investor rejected him.
The afternoon he proposed in Central Park.
The promises.
The apologies.
The endless little compromises that became my entire life.
“This is exactly me,” I said.
“You just preferred me when I belonged to you.”
His eyes reddened.
For one dangerous second, I thought he might actually cry.
Instead he smiled.
That frightened me more.
“You think you won?”
Something cold entered his voice.
“You really think Adrian Rashid rescued you?”
Adrian’s expression sharpened.
Ethan looked at me.
“Ask him why he knew about your father.”
I didn’t move.
“Ethan.”
“Ask him.”
Adrian stepped forward.
“That is enough.”
“No, I think Claire deserves the truth.”
Security started toward Ethan.
I raised one hand.
“Stop.”
Adrian looked at me.
A tiny hesitation.
That was all I needed to see.
My stomach tightened.
I turned toward him.
“How did you know my father?”
Silence.
Adrian’s eyes remained on mine.
“I knew his work.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Vanessa was watching us now.
Daniel Mercer smiled.
That peaceful smile again.
Suddenly, I understood.
He had been waiting for this.
Ethan saw my uncertainty and seized it.
“Three months ago, Claire receives mysterious help identifying forgotten patents.
Then Adrian Rashid appears, authenticates everything, buys our debt, funds her new company, and arrives tonight ready to hand her an empire.”
His laugh was quiet.
“You never wondered why?”
I had.
Of course I had.
Adrian told me his investment office had monitored Blake Systems for years.
He said my inquiry regarding patent authentication triggered an internal review.
It had seemed plausible.
Convenient.
But plausible.
Now Adrian said, “Claire, there are details I intended to explain privately.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“Before or after the announcement?”
He didn’t answer.
Daniel laughed.
“There it is.”
Vanessa turned.
“Dad, what are you talking about?”
Daniel walked toward the stage.
Security blocked him.
He didn’t resist.
Instead, he looked at me.
“You found your father’s watch.”
“Yes.”
“And the storage wafer.”
“Yes.”
“Did Rashid tell you there was another?”
My fingers tightened around the watch.
Adrian went still.
Daniel saw it.
His smile widened.
“Apparently not.”
I turned toward Adrian.
“Another what?”
Daniel answered for him.
“Another storage device.”
The ballroom had become utterly silent.
“Jonathan Hale never trusted a single backup.
You said so yourself.”
My father’s voice echoed in my memory.
Important things should exist in more than one place.
I looked at the watch.
Then at Adrian.
“Where is it?”
He said nothing.
That was answer enough.
Ethan laughed.
“Oh, Claire.”
I ignored him.
“Adrian.”
“There is a second archive.”
A strange sensation moved through me.
Not shock.
Not yet.
Something colder.
“Where?”
“With my family.”
The room blurred slightly around the edges.
“Why?”
Adrian exhaled.
“Because your father gave it to my father twenty-four years ago.”
Daniel Mercer closed his eyes briefly.
As though a clock had finally reached midnight.
Adrian continued.
“My father financed Jonathan’s research privately during its final years.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because the archive contains more than patents.”
“What?”
He hesitated.
“The truth about your father’s death.”
The words struck harder than anything else that evening.
My hand went instinctively to the stage railing.
My father died in a highway accident.
Rain.
A barrier failure.
A truck losing control.
That was what I had been told.
I was thirteen.
My mother never discussed it.
“What truth?”
Adrian glanced toward Daniel.
Mercer’s smile had disappeared.
Vanessa whispered, “Dad?”
Adrian reached inside his jacket.
Security stiffened.
He withdrew a small black drive.
“I brought a copy tonight.”
Daniel moved.
Fast.
Faster than I thought a man his age could move.
He knocked one guard sideways and lunged toward the stage.
Chaos erupted.
Vanessa screamed.
Ethan stumbled backward.
Another guard caught Daniel before he reached us.
The drive fell.
Skidded across the polished stage.
Stopped at my shoe.
Daniel struggled wildly.
“Do not open that!”
Every camera in the ballroom turned toward him.
His face had transformed.
No calm.
No sophistication.
Only fear.
Real fear.
I bent down.
Picked up the drive.
Adrian stared at Daniel.
“You should have destroyed it when you had the chance.”
Daniel stopped struggling.
Then he looked directly at me.
“Claire, listen carefully.”
I almost laughed.
Everyone suddenly wanted me to listen.
Ethan.
Adrian.
Daniel.
Men who had spent years deciding what I deserved to know.
“No.”
Daniel’s face tightened.
“You don’t understand what’s on there.”
“Then I’ll find out.”
“You think this is about patents?”
His voice cracked.
“You think your father died because someone wanted his technology?”
Adrian stepped forward.
“Mercer.”
Daniel ignored him.
He stared at me with something close to desperation.
“Jonathan discovered something.”
My throat went dry.
“What?”
Daniel shook his head.
“You open that archive and everyone in this room becomes part of it.”
Vanessa moved closer.
“Dad, what did you do?”
He looked at his daughter.
For the first time that evening, his expression broke.
Not guilt.
Grief.
“I tried to stop it.”
“Stop what?”
He looked back at me.
Then at Adrian.
And suddenly I realized something.
Daniel wasn’t afraid of Adrian.
He was afraid for him.
Adrian seemed to realize it at the same moment.
His expression changed.
“Where is my father?”
Daniel said nothing.
Adrian took a step down from the stage.
“My father was supposed to arrive thirty minutes ago.”
My heart started pounding.
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Then you’re already late.”
Adrian grabbed him by the jacket.
“Where is he?”
Security hesitated.
No one knew whether to intervene.
Daniel whispered something I couldn’t hear.
Adrian went completely still.
“What did you say?”
Daniel repeated it louder.
“Your father has the original archive.”
Adrian’s grip tightened.
“And?”
“And someone knows.”
At that exact moment, every light in the ballroom went out.
Screams erupted.
The chandeliers vanished.
Phones illuminated frightened faces.
Someone crashed into a table.
Glass shattered.
I felt a hand seize my arm.
I swung blindly.
“Claire!”
Adrian.
Then a gunshot exploded somewhere near the ballroom entrance.
People screamed and dropped to the floor.
A second shot.
Security shouted.
“Down!”
Adrian pulled me behind the stage.
I hit the carpet hard, still clutching the drive.
Across the darkness, the locked ballroom doors suddenly opened.
Cold air rushed inside.
Emergency lights flickered red.
For three seconds, I saw everything in broken flashes.
Ethan crawling beneath a table.
Vanessa screaming her father’s name.
Daniel Mercer on his knees between two guards.
And a masked figure disappearing through the open doorway.
Then Daniel looked down.
Blood spread across his white shirt.
“Dad!”
Vanessa reached him first.
She dropped beside him.
“No, no, no—”
Daniel’s face had gone gray.
His eyes searched wildly through the chaos.
Then found me.
“Claire.”
I moved before I could think.
Adrian tried to stop me.
I pulled away and crawled toward Daniel.
Vanessa was pressing both hands against his chest.
“Call an ambulance!”
Someone shouted that emergency services were already coming.
Daniel grabbed my wrist.
His fingers were slick with blood.
“Listen.”
“I’m listening.”
He coughed.
“The archive.”
“Yes.”
“Your father…”
His breath rattled.
“What about him?”
Daniel stared at me.
And smiled.
Not cruelly.
Sadly.
“Jonathan Hale didn’t die in that crash.”
Everything inside me stopped.
I stared at him.
“What?”
Vanessa froze.
Adrian turned sharply.
Daniel’s fingers tightened around my wrist with surprising strength.
“They lied to you.”
“Who?”
His eyes shifted.
Not toward Adrian.
Toward Ethan.
I followed his gaze.
Ethan had emerged from beneath the table.
He stood several yards away.
White-faced.
Terrified.
Holding something in his hand.
Not a weapon.
An envelope.
The envelope I had left beside his coffee that morning.
The one he supposedly threw away.
He had opened it after all.
And written across the back, in handwriting I recognized from my father’s old notebooks, were five words.
CLAIRE MUST NEVER FIND ME.
My knees went weak.
I looked at Ethan.
“How did you get that?”
He shook his head slowly.
“You really don’t know.”
“Know what?”
His eyes moved toward the black drive in my hand.
Then back to me.
“Your father contacted me two years ago.”
The emergency lights flashed red again.
For one second, no one spoke.
Not Vanessa.
Not Adrian.
Not Daniel.
Not me.
Two years.
While I slept beside Ethan.
While we planned our wedding.
While I sold my mother’s jewelry to keep his company alive.
Ethan had known.
“He’s alive?”
I whispered.
Ethan swallowed.
Then the faintest hint of his old confidence returned.
“Yes.”
My entire world tilted.
“Where?”
He looked toward the open ballroom doors.
Outside, sirens were screaming closer.
Inside, Daniel Mercer was bleeding beneath Vanessa’s hands.
And Adrian Rashid looked more frightened than I had ever seen him.
Ethan stepped backward.
“You destroyed my company tonight, Claire.”
Another step.
“But you still don’t understand what Blake Systems was really built to do.”
“What are you talking about?”
He smiled.
“Your father wasn’t hiding from Mercer.”
His eyes moved toward Adrian.
“He was hiding from the Rashids.”
Adrian’s face hardened.
“That’s a lie.”
“Is it?”
Ethan raised the envelope.
“Then tell her who ordered Jonathan Hale to disappear.”
I looked at Adrian.
He said nothing.
Outside the ballroom, boots thundered through the corridor.
Police.
Paramedics.
Security.
Or someone else.
I didn’t know anymore.
Then the black drive in my hand suddenly vibrated.
A tiny green light appeared.
Once.
Twice.
A file activated automatically.
My father’s voice emerged from the stage speakers.
Older than I remembered.
Tired.
But unmistakable.
“Claire, if you are hearing this, then Adrian found you.”
My breath vanished.
Every person in the ballroom looked toward the speakers.
The recording continued.
“And if Adrian found you…”
A pause.
“…you are in more danger than you know.”
Adrian slowly turned toward me.
The ballroom doors began closing again.
And this time, no one knew who was locking them.
…If you want to know what happened next, please type “YES” and like for more.
READ FULL PART 2:
FULL STORY: THE WOMAN THEY TRIED TO ERASE -PT04
Source: Stories of Destiny · Thao Thao
