CHAPTER 3 — THE WOMAN WHO NEVER DIED
The voice echoed again.
"Daddy..."
Every instinct screamed at me to run upstairs.
It sounded exactly like Noah.
The same tiny voice.
The same frightened cry.
The same trembling tone that had haunted my dreams since Emily died.
Beside me, Noah tightened his grip on my hand.
"Dad..."
His real voice.
Small.
Alive.
"I didn't say that."
Thomas grabbed my shoulder before I could move.
"Don't."
"But—"
"They're baiting you."
Another scream tore through the mansion.
This time...
Emily.
"Daniel!"
The sound was so real my knees almost buckled.
Grace covered Noah's ears.
Victoria watched everything unfold with an expression I couldn't read.
Not fear.
Recognition.
She knew exactly what was happening.
Thomas switched on a powerful tactical flashlight.
Three other guards did the same.
The beams cut through the darkness of the security office.
"We move together," Thomas ordered.
"No one separates."
He handed Grace another flashlight.
"You stay behind me."
Grace nodded.
Noah clung tightly to her hand.
I drew a slow breath and checked the pistol Thomas had given me.
I prayed I would never need to use it.
The hallway outside the security office was completely dark.
The emergency lights hadn't activated.
That alone told Thomas everything.
"They're inside the electrical room."
"You know that already?"
"They disabled both backup systems."
"Could that happen accidentally?"
He looked at me.
"Not in this house."
We moved slowly.
Every marble step echoed.
Every shadow looked alive.
The mansion that had once been my family's safest place now felt like enemy territory.
Halfway down the corridor...
Thomas suddenly raised his fist.
Everyone stopped.
He pointed his flashlight toward the floor.
Tiny drops of water.
Leading toward Emily's bedroom.
Grace frowned.
"Water?"
Thomas crouched.
He touched it with two fingers.
Not water.
Oil.
Fresh.
Someone had lubricated a door.
Recently.
The bedroom door stood slightly open.
I had closed it myself less than an hour earlier.
Now...
It slowly creaked wider.
No wind.
No movement.
Just enough to invite us inside.
Thomas whispered,
"They want us in there."
I stared into the darkness.
"I have to know."
The room looked exactly as we had left it.
The laptop still sat on the desk.
Emily's perfume bottle remained beside the mirror.
The curtains barely moved.
Nothing seemed disturbed.
Then Noah quietly pointed.
"Dad..."
The wardrobe.
One door had opened.
Only a few inches.
Thomas approached first.
He nodded toward one of the guards.
Together they pulled the wardrobe doors open.
Empty.
Except...
A black leather folder.
Thomas picked it up carefully.
No fingerprints.
Professional.
He placed it on Emily's bed.
Inside...
Blueprints.
Not of the estate.
Of my company headquarters.
Every executive office.
Every security camera.
Every vault.
Every emergency exit.
My blood ran cold.
"They're not after Noah."
Thomas looked at me.
"No."
"They're after Ashford Holdings."
Grace turned another page.
There were names.
Photographs.
Schedules.
Bank accounts.
Executives.
Board members.
Every person who controlled the company.
Someone had spent years preparing this.
Victoria stared at the folder.
She whispered before realizing she'd spoken aloud.
"He found it."
I looked at her sharply.
"Who?"
She closed her mouth.
Too late.
Thomas opened the final pocket.
Inside lay one photograph.
Old.
Faded.
Emily.
Marcus.
Victoria.
Standing together.
Smiling.
The date printed on the corner stopped my heart.
Five years ago.
Two years before Emily died.
Three years before I supposedly met Victoria.
My hands began shaking.
"She lied from the beginning."
Grace nodded.
"She never entered your life after Emily died."
Thomas finished the sentence.
"She entered before."
Suddenly...
A loud metallic click echoed through the bedroom.
Thomas spun around.
"The door!"
The heavy wooden door slammed shut.
Locks engaged automatically.
One.
Two.
Three.
Electronic deadbolts.
The room was sealed.
The lights flickered back on.
Only inside the bedroom.
The hallway remained dark.
Then the television mounted above the fireplace switched on by itself.
Static.
For several seconds...
Nothing.
Then an image appeared.
A hospital room.
Three years earlier.
Emily.
Alive.
Attached to monitors.
She wasn't speaking to the camera.
She didn't know she was being filmed.
She looked terrified.
A man entered the room.
Only his back was visible.
Tall.
Expensive suit.
Snake tattoo climbing his neck.
Victor Hale.
He leaned toward Emily.
His voice remained calm.
"You should have signed."
Emily answered weakly.
"I'll never let you touch Noah."
Victor smiled.
"You don't have a choice."
I couldn't breathe.
Thomas immediately removed a flash drive from the television.
"It's prerecorded."
The video continued.
Emily reached beneath her blanket.
She pulled out her phone.
Trying to call someone.
Victor noticed.
He ripped it away.
Then...
Another man entered the room.
My entire body froze.
Marcus.
My brother.
He walked to Emily's bedside without hesitation.
She stared at him in disbelief.
"You?"
Marcus never answered.
Victor handed him a syringe.
Marcus took it.
The recording suddenly ended.
Black screen.
Silence.
Grace covered her mouth.
"No..."
My legs gave way.
I collapsed into the chair beside Emily's desk.
Everything I believed about my brother...
Gone.
Every childhood memory.
Every Christmas.
Every birthday.
Every promise.
Destroyed by twenty seconds of video.
Victoria suddenly started crying.
Real tears.
Not the performance from earlier.
"You don't understand."
I slowly looked up.
"What?"
"It wasn't supposed to happen."
"Emily wasn't supposed to die."
Every person in the room turned toward her.
Thomas stepped closer.
"What did you just say?"
Victoria's breathing became uneven.
"I only wanted custody."
Silence.
"I never wanted..."
She stopped.
Realizing what she'd confessed.
Thomas stared directly into her eyes.
"You knew there was a plan."
She closed her eyes.
Tears streamed down her face.
Then she whispered six words that changed everything.
"It wasn't Marcus who planned it."
The room became perfectly silent.
I stepped toward her.
"Who did?"
Victoria slowly opened her eyes.
She looked past me.
Toward the family portrait hanging above the fireplace.
A portrait of Emily...
Noah...
Me...
And standing proudly behind us...
My father.
May you like
Victoria whispered,
"It was your father."
