Chapter 3 - WHAT MASON INHERITEDMason was rushed into intensive care the second we landed.

Doctors surrounded him.

Machines beeped.

Nurses shouted numbers.

The doors slammed shut.

I stood frozen outside.

My father remained beside me.

I barely recognized him anymore.

He had always been my father.

Quiet.

Disciplined.

Protective.

But there was another man beneath the surface.

A man accustomed to emergencies that involved more than broken bones.

“Tell me the truth,” I said.

He didn't answer.

“Dad.”

He looked at me.

“What did Mason inherit?”

“Not money.”

“Then what?”

Dad reached into his jacket.

He pulled out a small metal case.

He opened it.

Inside was an old brass key.

I frowned.

“What is that?”

“The only remaining key to a private archive.”

“What archive?”

“Your grandfather's.”

I stared at him.

“Grandfather?”

“He died before you were born.”

“I know.”

“You were told he was a military engineer.”

“Yes.”

Dad closed the case.

“That was only part of the truth.”

I felt dizzy.

“What was he?”

Dad looked toward the ICU doors.

“A forensic investigator specializing in industrial disasters.”

I stared.

“He spent thirty years investigating corporate sabotage.”

“Why didn't Mom ever tell me?”

“She wanted you safe.”

“And now?”

Dad's jaw tightened.

“Now someone knows your son has access to information that was never supposed to resurface.”

I felt a sudden chill.

“How would Mason have access?”

“He doesn't.”

Dad looked at me.

“You do.”

I didn't understand.

He reached into my coat pocket.

I hadn't even realized something was there.

A thin black envelope.

My name was written on it.

My maiden name.

Not my married name.

I tore it open.

Inside was a single line.

YOU HAVE UNTIL MIDNIGHT.

Below it was an address.

I knew it.

My grandfather's old warehouse.

I'd been there once as a child.

It had been abandoned for years.

“What is this?”

Dad took the paper from me.

His face changed.

“This was in your bag?”

“I don't know.”

“Daniel?”

“I don't think so.”

Dad looked at his watch.

“It's 8:12.”

“What happens at midnight?”

He stared at the note.

“Something bad.”

I almost laughed.

“That's your answer?”

“No.”

He looked at me.

“My answer is that we don't wait to find out.”

A hospital administrator approached.

“Mrs. Hale?”

I turned.

“The boy is stable for now.”

Relief nearly knocked me over.

“Can I see him?”

“In a few minutes.”

I nodded.

Then I looked at Dad.

“We're going to the warehouse.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because that's exactly what they want.”

“Then we do the opposite.”

He studied me.

For years, I'd thought my father was always trying to protect me from the world.

Now I understood.

He had been protecting me from the truth.

A scream came from inside the ICU.

My heart stopped.

The doors opened.

A nurse ran out.

“Security!”

Dad immediately pushed forward.

“What happened?”

“Someone tried to enter the pediatric room.”

“Who?”

The nurse shook.

“A man with a hospital badge.”

Dad's eyes sharpened.

“What did he look like?”

“Tall. Dark hair.”

I knew.

Daniel.

“No.”

I ran toward the ICU.

Security officers stopped me.

“Ma'am, you cannot go in.”

“That's my son!”

Dad grabbed my arm.

“Wait.”

“Someone is inside!”

The nurse's face went pale.

“He got to the room.”

Everything inside me shattered.

Dad moved faster than I've ever seen him move.

He pulled a concealed handgun from beneath his jacket.

Security stared.

I stared.

“Dad…”

“Stay behind me.”

The ICU door opened.

A doctor stumbled out.

Blood stained his sleeve.

“He's been sedated,” the doctor said.

“Who did this?”

“A man attacked one of the nurses.”

“Where is Mason?”

“In the second room.”

Dad pushed past him.

I followed.

Mason was there.

Alive.

An oxygen mask covered his face.

His eyes were closed.

A nurse stood beside him.

She whispered, “He woke once.”

“What did he say?”

She looked at me.

“He asked for you.”

I grabbed Mason's hand.

“Mama's here.”

His fingers moved weakly.

Then he whispered something.

I leaned closer.

“What?”

His lips barely moved.

“Daddy…”

My heart twisted.

“What about Daddy?”

Mason opened his eyes.

“He told the man…”

He coughed.

I bent lower.

“What did Daddy tell him?”

Mason's lips trembled.

“He said…”

My father froze.

The entire room went silent.

Mason whispered the last words.

“Take the red box.”

I looked at my father.

He went white.

“What red box?”

Dad slowly stepped backward.

“I thought it was destroyed.”

“What are you talking about?”

He looked at me.

“The box your grandfather hid.”

I stared.

“And where is it?”

Dad didn't answer.

He looked toward the window.

Then toward the door.

Someone was standing in the hallway.

Watching us.

Vanessa.

Her ankle was wrapped.

She was supposed to be in another ward.

She smiled.

And lifted one finger to her lips.

Then she whispered through the glass.

“You should have asked your father about the fire.”

She turned and disappeared.

My father's hand tightened around the gun.

I looked at him.

“What fire?”

He didn't answer.

Because suddenly I knew.

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