line. A heavy thud. Then, a new voice spoke.
It was faint, raspy, and weak, as if the speaker hadn’t used their vocal cords in years. But beneath the static, there was an undeniable, ghostly familiarity.
“Evie…?” the voice whispered.
Tears instantly blurred my vision. “Celeste? Celeste, is that you? Hang on, I’m coming down there!”
“Evie, listen to me,” Celeste gasped, her voice fraught with desperate urgency. “Don’t bring the babies down here. And whatever you do… little sister… don’t trust Marcus.”
The line went dead.
I lowered the phone slowly. The snow continued to fall, burying Graham’s ruined suitcase, dusting the shoulders of my security team.
Don’t trust Marcus.
I didn’t turn my head. I didn’t flinch. Over the past year of building my empire in the shadows, I had learned to master my micro-expressions. I kept my eyes fixed on the red glow of the basement windows.
Ms. Vale,” Marcus said gently, stepping up right behind my left shoulder. “We need to move. If Vivian has hostages in a fortified bunker, local law enforcement won’t have the ordinance to breach it in time. We need to send our Alpha Team down through the wine cellar.”
I felt the subtle shift in the air. The operatives standing closest to the SUV—where my babies were sleeping—took a half-step forward. Not toward the house. Toward the car.
“Marcus,” I said, keeping my voice perfectly level. “How long have you known about the biometric trust?”
A pause. Just a fraction of a second too long.
“I only learned of it when I intercepted the clinic files this morning, Evelyn,” Marcus lied smoothly.
I turned around slowly to face him. Marcus Reed had been my most trusted weapon. He had executed every legal maneuver, shielded my identity, and dismantled Graham’s life with
