Z

We returned to the estate at two in the morning knowing one thing.

Someone under Adrian’s roof had been helping Northline.

Nobody knew who.

That changed everything.

The guards at the gates looked different.

The house staff looked different.

Even familiar hallways felt wrong.

Trust was easy when danger lived outside the walls.

Once it entered the house, every smile became a question.

Adrian gathered six people in the dining room.

Marcus.

Vincent.

Maria, the longtime house manager.

Samuel Ortiz, head of transportation.

Daniel Ross, Adrian’s chief financial officer.

And me.

I didn’t belong at that table.

Everyone knew it.

Adrian put the file in front of him.

“You all know why we’re here.”

Daniel glanced at me.

“Does she need to be?”

“Yes,” Adrian said.

No explanation.

No apology.

Daniel looked away.

Adrian opened the file.

“The original list contains seventeen names connected to the Northline investigation.”

Vincent leaned forward.

“How many are internal?”

“Four.”

My stomach tightened.

Adrian continued.

“Three are dead.”

Silence.

Marcus’s expression darkened.

“And the fourth?”

“Still active.”

Maria crossed herself.

Samuel swore softly.

Daniel said nothing.

I watched everyone.

I had spent two years around these people.

Maria baked Ethan’s birthday cakes.

Samuel taught me how to change a tire.

Daniel had once spent twenty minutes explaining taxes when he discovered I had accidentally overpaid.

Marcus terrified everyone but secretly fed stray cats near the east gate.

Vincent complained about children but kept crayons in his briefcase for Ethan.

One of them?

I couldn’t believe it.

Adrian slid four sealed envelopes onto the table.

“I changed the file.”

Marcus understood first.

“You created false versions.”

“Four.”

Vincent smiled slowly.

“You’re marking the leak.”

“Yes.”

Each version contained a different fake detail.

A meeting location.

A bank account.

A shipment number.

Something Northline would act on if they received it.

“And who gets which?” Daniel asked.

Adrian’s gaze moved around the table.

“Nobody knows except me.”

“Then why tell us?” Samuel asked.

“To give the traitor a chance to stop.”

The room chilled.

Adrian leaned back.

“If the leak continues, I’ll know.”

Nobody moved.

Then Ethan’s voice came through the doorway.

“Dad?”

Every adult turned.

He stood barefoot in pajamas holding his stuffed dinoNextr.

My heart stopped.

“What are you doing awake?”

He looked at me.

“I had the dream.”

I stood immediately.

The dream.

He never called it a nightmare.

He called it the dream.

The one about his mother.

I went toward him, but Adrian reached him first.

He knelt.

“What happened?”

Ethan’s mouth trembled.

“Mom couldn’t find me.”

Adrian closed his eyes briefly.

Then lifted him.

“Come here.”

Ethan pressed his face into his father’s neck.

“I want Claire.”

That hurt Adrian.

I saw it.

Not because Ethan rejected him.

Because his son needed both of us.

I walked closer.

“I’m here.”

Ethan reached one hand toward me.

I held it.

For one strange minute, the meeting stopped mattering.

The traitor.

Northline.

Hospital bills.

All of it disappeared around a five-year-old boy scared of a dream.

Adrian carried him upstairs.

I followed.

We sat beside Ethan until he fell asleep between us.

His hand held mine.

His foot rested against Adrian’s leg.

When his breathing finally deepened, neither of us moved.

Adrian whispered, “He doesn’t remember her voice.”

My heart broke.

“He remembers how she made him feel.”

“Is that enough?”

“For children, sometimes that’s what survives longest.”

Adrian looked down at his son.

“What would he remember about me?”

I smiled faintly.

“That you pretend you don’t like cartoons.”

“I don’t.”

“You know every character.”

“Occupational exposure.”

“He’ll remember you check his closet every night because he once thought monsters lived there.”

Adrian looked at me.

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve seen you.”

He went quiet.

“He’ll remember that when he gets sick, you sleep outside his room.”

Silence.

“That you cut grapes because you’re terrified he’ll choke.”

“They’re dangerous.”

“Absolutely terrifying.”

His mouth twitched.

“And he’ll remember you love him.”

Adrian’s eyes held mine.

“How?”

“Because children know.”

Something passed between us.

Warm.

Dangerous.

Too intimate for a dark bedroom.

Then a phone vibrated.

Adrian checked it.

Marcus.

We stepped into the hallway.

Adrian answered.

“What?”

His expression changed.

“When?”

He listened.

“Don’t move until I’m downstairs.”

He ended the call.

“What happened?”

“One of the false details moved.”

My heartbeat jumped.

“Already?”

“Yes.”

“Which one?”

He looked at me.

“I gave Marcus a fake meeting location.”

My stomach dropped.

“So Marcus—”

“No.”

“Then?”

“I gave the information to him verbally.”

I didn’t understand.

“Meaning nobody else knew.”

“Except whoever had access to his phone.”

We moved downstairs quickly.

Marcus stood in the security room holding his phone inside a plastic evidence bag.

“Spyware,” he said.

Daniel stared.

“So nobody here leaked it?”

“Someone installed software on Marcus’s phone.”

“When?” Adrian asked.

Marcus looked sick.

“Device log says eight months ago.”

Eight months.

Around the same time Lily’s transplant status changed.

I leaned toward the screen.

“There.”

Everyone looked.

A device connection history listed several dates.

One location repeated.

Riverview Medical Center.

My skin prickled.

“When were you at Riverview eight months ago?” I asked Marcus.

He frowned.

Then went pale.

“Adrian was there.”

“For what?”

Marcus looked at Adrian.

“Ethan.”

My chest tightened.

“Ethan was sick?”

“Appendicitis,” Adrian said. “Emergency surgery.”

Marcus had stayed for two days.

Someone at the hospital had accessed his phone.

The same hospital where Deborah worked.

Where Caldwell controlled records.

Where my sister had been manipulated.

“It all started there,” I whispered.

Adrian looked at me.

“No.”

“What?”

He stared at the connection dates.

“The surveillance started there.”

“What’s the difference?”

He turned toward Marcus.

“Pull Caroline’s records.”

The room froze.

Marcus frowned.

“Caroline?”

“Riverview treated her after the kidnapping.”

I felt the air leave the room.

Adrian’s face had gone white.

“Before she died,” he said slowly, “she was brought into Riverview for forty-three minutes.”

Vincent stood.

“You think Northline had someone inside even then.”

Adrian didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

Marcus began searching.

Minutes passed.

Then a file appeared.

Old.

Restricted.

Caroline Mercer.

Adrian stared at the screen.

A notation sat at the bottom.

Administrative authorization.

M. CALDWELL.

Nobody breathed.

Caldwell had been there.

Three years ago.

Before Lily.

Before me.

Before Deborah approached me.

Adrian read the file.

Then his eyes stopped.

“What?”

I moved closer.

One line had been deleted from the public record but remained in the audit history.

PATIENT ARRIVED CONSCIOUS.

Adrian gripped the desk.

The official story had always said Caroline was unconscious when found.

Unable to speak.

Unable to identify anyone.

But she had arrived conscious.

For forty-three minutes.

“What happened during those forty-three minutes?” I whispered.

Adrian’s face became something I had never seen before.

Broken.

Because for three years, he had believed his wife died without saying another word.

Now we knew she had been awake.

And somebody had made sure Adrian never knew.