“That isn't what I believe.”

Her voice sharpened.

“That's what I know.”

Dominic studied her.

“Then tell me.”

Nora's hands tightened around the sleeves covering her bandages.

“My father found something wrong with the company's primary audit records. He told my mother he'd discovered money being moved through accounts that weren't supposed to exist.”

She swallowed.

“The next morning, his office had been emptied.”

Dominic said nothing.

“The police called him a thief. The syndicate called him a traitor. Everyone repeated the same story until people stopped asking questions.”

“And you never stopped.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Nora looked through the windshield at the wet streets.

“Because my father promised me he'd come home.”

Something shifted in Dominic's expression.

Only slightly.

But she saw it.

“You spent nine months inside Adrian Vale's house because you thought he knew.”

“I didn't think.”

She turned toward him.

“I knew.”

Dominic leaned back.

“Adrian was twenty-two when his father died. He inherited everything. The company. The syndicate. The enemies.”

“And the records.”

“Yes.”

“Then he knows.”

“He knows something.”

The SUV turned onto a private road.

Ahead, high walls emerged through the trees.

Dominic spoke again.

“Adrian asked for you.”

Nora's heart stopped for half a beat.

“Why?”

“You'll have to ask him.”

The safe house was quieter than the mansion had been.

No marble ballroom.

No endless staff.

No polished spectacle.

Just stone walls, armed guards, dark windows, and the suffocating silence of a place designed to survive a siege.

Adrian was waiting upstairs.

He sat in a leather chair near the window, one hand resting against his bandaged ribs.

He looked pale.

But he did not look weak.

That was the first thing Nora noticed.

The second was that he was watching her hands.

“You're hurt.”

“You noticed.”

“I notice everything.”

“You certainly noticed my name.”

Something flickered behind his eyes.

“Sit.”

She remained standing.

“You owe me an explanation.”

A faint smile touched his mouth.

“You dragged me out of a burning library.”

“And?”

“And now you're demanding an explanation.”

“Yes.”

He looked at her for a long moment.

Then he gestured toward the chair.

“Sit down before you collapse.”

Nora sat.

Adrian leaned back carefully.

“Dominic told you.”

“He told me enough.”

“Then you know who you are.”

“I've always known who I am.”

His gaze sharpened.

“You know what I mean.”

She did.

The room seemed suddenly smaller.

“You knew I was Thomas Bennett's daughter.”

“Yes.”

“For nine months?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn't you say anything?”

“Because I wanted to know why you were here.”

Nora laughed once, without humor.

“I was here because of you.”

“I know.”

“You could have fired me.”

“I could have.”

“You could have had me removed.”

“I could have.”

“But you didn't.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Adrian looked toward the window.

“Because I was trying to determine whether you came here for revenge or answers.”

“And?”

His eyes returned to hers.

“Answers.”

Nora's throat tightened.

She leaned forward.

“Twelve years ago, was my father a thief?”

“No.”

The word came so quickly that it almost hurt.

Nora stared at him.

“No?”

“Your father wasn't a thief.”

Her chest tightened.

For twelve years, she had imagined hearing those words.

She had imagined relief.

She had never imagined that relief could feel so much like grief.

“Then what happened?”

Adrian's face hardened.

“My uncle happened.”

“Richard?”

Adrian nodded.

Nora shook her head.

“Richard Vale?”

“The same man who sits on charity boards and cuts ribbons at children's hospitals.”

“He was behind it.”

“Why?”

“Because your father found three million dollars moving through a dummy corporation registered offshore.”

Nora stopped breathing.

“He discovered the money was being siphoned out through a network Richard controlled.”

“And my father confronted him?”

“No.”

Adrian shook his head.

“Thomas was too smart for that. He locked the evidence in the primary office safe and prepared an audit report for my father.”

“What happened to your father?”

Adrian's jaw tightened.

“He died before he could read it.”

Nora stared at him.

“Heart attack?”

“Yes.”

“Convenient.”

“Very.”

“And my father?”

“His office was destroyed that same night.”

Nora's fingers trembled.

“He disappeared.”

“Yes.”

“You think Richard killed him.”

Adrian leaned forward.

“I don't think.”

His voice dropped.

“I know.”

Silence filled the room.

Nora stared at the floor.

For years, she had imagined her father trapped somewhere.

Alive.

Waiting.

Or perhaps dead and buried under an unmarked name.

Now she had something worse.

Certainty.

“He killed him.”

Adrian didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

Nora closed her eyes.

Her father's face came back to her.

The rain.

The front door.

His hand on her shoulder.

Whatever happens, don't believe what they tell you about me.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

She wiped it away angrily.

Adrian watched her.

“You don't have to do this alone.”

Nora looked up.

“Don't say that.”

“Why?”

“Because I have been alone for twelve years.”

Something changed in his expression.

Not pity.

She would have hated pity.

Recognition.

“I know.”

“You don't.”

“I do.”

She looked at him.

Adrian's eyes were suddenly older than his face.

“When my father died,” he said quietly, “I inherited an empire I didn't understand and a family that had already decided what I was supposed to become.”

He looked down at his hands.

“I learned very quickly that grief makes people useful to other people.”

Nora said nothing.

“So I stopped grieving.”

“That isn't the same as healing.”

“No.”

His eyes met hers.

“It isn't.”

The silence between them was no longer hostile.

It was simply two people sitting beside the same kind of wound.

Adrian finally broke it.

“The fire wasn't random.”

Nora looked at him.

“Richard tried to kill you.”

“He tried to destroy evidence.”

“What evidence?”

Adrian's mouth curved slightly.

“The evidence he thought was in the library safe.”

“But it wasn't.”

“No.”

“Where is it?”

“Somewhere safe.”

“Where?”

“Only two people know.”

“Who?”

Adrian looked directly at her.

“One is me.”

“And the other?”

“Someone I trust.”

Nora almost smiled.

“You don't trust easily.”

“No.”

“Then why tell me?”

“I haven't.”

She rolled her eyes.

“You're impossible.”

“So I've been told.”

For the first time since the fire, Nora smiled.

It disappeared quickly.

Adrian noticed.

He noticed everything.

The next morning, Boston woke beneath a pale gray sky.

By eight, Adrian had already made his decision.

Richard believed him dead.

That gave them less than forty-eight hours.

If Richard could force an emergency board vote, he could strip Adrian of his authority and seize control of Vale Shipping.

And if Richard gained control of the shipping company, he would gain access to the ports.

The money.

The routes.

The infrastructure.

Everything Thomas Bennett had once tried to expose.

“We go to the tower,” Adrian said.

Nora looked up from the tea in her hands.

“Today?”

“Today.”

“As what?”

“As my corporate liaison.”

She almost laughed.

“I was a maid yesterday.”

“Yesterday you were anonymous.”

“And today?”

“Today you are the daughter of the man Richard Vale tried to erase.”

Dominic stood near the door.

“Boss, this is dangerous.”

“Yes.”

“You're still injured.”

“Yes.”

“And if Richard recognizes her—”

“He will.”

Nora looked at Adrian.

“You knew he would.”

“That is the point.”