part 7
The apartment walls pressed in around me. Every photograph, every memory, every bedtime story shifted under a truth I had not invited in.
My mother had not lied about loving me.
But she had lied about the beginning.
The tarnished key sat in the shoebox, dull and waiting.
Liam picked it up.
A tiny number was engraved along its side.
His eyes moved to mine.
“The numbers on the flower.”
My mouth went dry.
“What does it open?”
He looked back into the box and found one final folded note beneath the flowers.
This one was not addressed to me.
It was addressed to Liam.
His hand shook when he unfolded it.
I watched his eyes move across the words.
Then all color left his face.
“What?” I asked.
He did not answer.
“Liam.”
He handed me the paper.
There were only three sentences.
The child I hid was never meant to inherit their fortune.
She was meant to expose the murder that built it.
Locker 714 holds the proof.
My heartbeat slammed once.
Twice.
Then came a sound from the hallway.
A floorboard creaked.
Liam’s head snapped toward the door.
Neither of us moved.
The doorknob turned slowly.
Once.
Then stopped.
My phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.
Unknown number.
Against every instinct, I picked it up.
A woman’s voice flowed through the line, smooth and familiar.
Vivian Vance.
“Hello, Emma,” she said softly. “I believe you have something that belongs to my family.”
The apartment door flew open.
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And standing behind it, covered in snow, was Daniel Cross—with a gun in his hand.
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