My mother had known.

Adrian had known something.

And somehow I had been the only person in the room who didn't.

I laughed bitterly.

“So that's what this is.”

My mother looked at me.

“What's what?”

“My entire life.”

I looked around the room.

“Everyone knows something.”

“You.”

Dad.

Adrian.

His father.

People I've never met.

“And I'm the idiot who gets protected.”

Her eyes softened.

“No.”

“You all keep saying you're protecting me.”

“Because we are.”

“No.”

I shook my head.

“You're controlling me.”

She didn't respond.

“Dad controls what I know.”

“You control what I know.”

“You disappear for eleven years.”

“You let me mourn you.”

“And now you expect me to trust you because you say there are dangerous people outside?”

She looked at me.

“I don't expect you to trust me.”

That surprised me.

“Then what do you expect?”

“I expect you to survive.”

The answer was so quiet that it stopped me.

My mother reached into a drawer.

She pulled out a small envelope.

My name was written on it.

CLAIRE.

My handwriting was not on it.

Neither was hers.

“What's this?”

“Your father gave it to me.”

“When?”

“Three years ago.”

I looked up.

“Three years?”

She nodded.

“Why didn't you give it to me?”

“Because the moment you opened it, you would become involved.”

“I already am.”

“Yes.”

She looked at the cameras.

“That's why I can give it to you now.”

I opened the envelope.

Inside was a single photograph.

I recognized the building immediately.

Blackwell Tower.

But the photograph wasn't of the tower.

It showed a private meeting room.

Four people sat around a table.

My father.

Edward Blackwell.

A man I didn't recognize.

And a woman.

I stared.

“Who is she?”

My mother took the photograph.

Her face went pale.

“You know her.”

“No, I don't.”

“You've seen her.”

“Where?”

“At the gala.”

I looked at the photograph again.

The woman was younger.

Her hair was darker.

But the face...

I remembered.

She had been standing near the orchestra.

A woman in a silver dress.

She had watched me when Adrian attacked me.

She hadn't looked shocked.

She had looked...

Satisfied.

My mother whispered:

“Victoria Ashford.”

“Who is she?”

“Victor Ashford's daughter.”

I looked at her.

“Victor Ashford is dead.”

My mother shook her head.

“That's what they told you.”

I stared.

“Everyone is dead.”

“Apparently not.”

A sudden sound came through the speakers.

Static.

Then a man's voice.

“Evelyn.”

My mother froze.

I knew immediately.

The voice was coming from somewhere inside the mansion.

“Evelyn.”

She stepped toward the monitor.

“Who is that?”

She didn't answer.

The voice came again.

“You've had your reunion.”

My blood ran cold.

“Now bring her upstairs.”

My mother whispered:

“No.”

The voice continued.

“Jonathan knows.”

She looked at me.

“Who is that?”

Her lips barely moved.

“Victor.”

The speakers went silent.

Then every screen in the room went black.

The lights flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then—

darkness.

I reached for my phone.

“No signal.”

My mother grabbed my arm.

“Don't move.”

“Why?”

“Because they want you to panic.”

Something scraped outside the door.

Slowly.

Metal against metal.

I looked at my mother.

“Did they lock us in?”

She nodded.

I took a breath.

Then another.

The door handle moved.

Once.

Twice.

My mother stepped behind me.

I stared at the door.

A man's voice came through.

“Claire.”

I knew it.

Adrian.

“Claire, open the door.”

I looked at my mother.

She shook her head violently.

“No.”

“It's Adrian.”

“I know.”

“He could help us.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because he isn't alone.”

Three shadows appeared beneath the door.

Not one.

Three.

I backed away.

The handle turned again.

Then Adrian spoke.

His voice was low.

“Claire.”

I stepped toward the door.

My mother grabbed my wrist.

“Don't.”

Adrian continued.

“I know you don't trust me.”

I said nothing.

“I wouldn't trust me either.”

My mother's grip tightened.

“But if you stay in that room, they'll kill you.”

I looked at her.

She looked terrified.

Not of Adrian.

Of what he was saying.

Adrian continued.

“Your father lied to you.”

My mother whispered:

“So did I.”

I looked at her.

She released my wrist.

“Go.”

“What?”

“Open the door.”

“Mom—”

“Go.”

I moved toward the door.

Then stopped.

“What about you?”

She smiled sadly.

“I've been hiding for eleven years.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“I'm done hiding.”

I unlocked the door.

It opened.

Adrian stood outside.

His tuxedo was torn.

Blood stained his collar.

He looked at me.

Then at my mother.

His face went completely white.

“She's alive.”

My mother nodded.

Adrian whispered:

“Then everything changes.”

A gunshot exploded somewhere upstairs.

We all froze.

Another shot.

Then screaming.

Adrian grabbed my arm.

“We have to move.”

“Where?”

He looked at my mother.

She answered.

“Vault Seventeen.”

I frowned.

“What?”

Adrian looked at me.

“Your father never told you?”

“No.”

He laughed once.

It wasn't amusement.

“Of course he didn't.”

My mother took my hand.

“We have to get there before they do.”

“Why?”

She looked into my eyes.

“Because what's inside Vault Seventeen is the reason your father has been lying to you your entire life.”

Another gunshot echoed above us.

Adrian pulled open a hidden panel behind the monitor.

A narrow passage appeared.

I stared into it.

“Where does that go?”

“Under the east wing.”

“To the vault?”

“Yes.”

I looked at my mother.

Then Adrian.

Then the dark passage.

For thirty-one years, my father had told me that our family secrets existed to protect me.

Tonight I was finally beginning to understand.

The secrets weren't protecting me.

They were protecting something else.

Something worth killing for.

I stepped into the passage.

My mother followed.

Adrian came behind us.

The hidden door closed.

And somewhere above us, inside the mansion that had belonged to my family for generations, someone shouted my name.

Not Claire.

Not sweetheart.

Not daughter.

A different name.

A name I had never heard before.

A name that made my mother stop walking.

A name that made Adrian turn pale.

A name that made me realize the woman who had just returned from the dead was not the only thing my family had been hiding.

“Eleanor!”

My mother closed her eyes.

I stared at her.

“Who is Eleanor?”

She opened her eyes.

And for the first time since I had seen her alive...

She looked afraid of me.

“That's you.”

::