Chapter 2 - THE MAN WHO KNEW MY FATHERI didn't sleep.
Not that night.
Not the next.
The anonymous call replayed in my mind until every word became a blade.
Your father won't survive the three hundred.
Dad dismissed it.
"It's intimidation."
"You don't believe that."
He looked at me over the rim of his coffee cup.
"No."
That answer frightened me more than the threat.
We were staying in one of Dad's private residences outside Boston, a place so heavily protected that I couldn't see a single camera and yet knew I was being watched from at least six directions.
I sat across from him at the kitchen island.
"Who could know about the number?"
Dad's expression hardened.
"The number isn't public."
"Exactly."
He placed the cup down.
"Only five people knew."
"Who?"
"Me. You. My security chief. My former attorney."
"And?"
He hesitated.
"One more."
My stomach tightened.
"Who?"
"My wife."
I stared at him.
My mother had died when I was eleven.
Dad rarely spoke about her.
"Mom?"
He nodded.
"Before she died."
I frowned.
"How could she know?"
"Because she helped create the protocol."
I suddenly felt as if the floor had moved.
My mother hadn't been the quiet housewife I remembered.
Dad had spent my childhood protecting a much larger truth.
My mother had been the architect of Vale Dominion's original financial intelligence system.
She had designed the encrypted network that eventually became the backbone of Dad's empire.
She had also created the emergency protocol called Three Hundred.
I didn't ask why.
I already knew.
If Two Hundred meant extracting a victim from immediate danger, Three Hundred meant something much darker.
It meant the threat had reached the family itself.
Dad stood.
"We're leaving."
"Where?"
"New York."
"Why?"
He looked toward the window.
"Because the threat came from inside my organization."
The drive to New York was tense.
Our convoy used three vehicles and changed routes twice.
When we arrived at the Vale Dominion headquarters, I saw something I had never witnessed before.
Fear.
Not from me.
From Dad's employees.
People who had handled billion-dollar investigations without blinking were whispering in hallways.
An analyst intercepted Dad before we reached the elevators.
"Sir."
Dad stopped.
"What happened?"
"The Black Vault was accessed at 3:14 this morning."
I didn't know what that meant.
Dad did.
"Who accessed it?"
"We don't know."
"Then find out."
The analyst swallowed.
"There's another problem."
Dad turned.
"What?"
"The account that was used to access the vault belongs to Mrs. Ashford."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"What?"
The analyst looked horrified.
"It's your biometric signature."
I stared at Dad.
"I've never accessed anything called the Black Vault."
"I know."
"But the system says I did."
Dad's expression became stone.
"Lock the building."
Security doors slammed shut throughout the floor.
Then every screen in the command room went black.
A countdown appeared.
00:09:59
00:09:58
I stared.
"What is that?"
Dad didn't answer.
He was already moving.
"Disconnect every external network."
The technicians scrambled.
"It isn't connected to the main system," one shouted.
"Then where is it coming from?"
Nobody answered.
The countdown reached seven minutes.
Then six.
A message appeared.
HELLO, NINA.
My chest tightened.
Dad stepped in front of me.
Another message appeared.
DID YOU REALLY THINK THE NIGHT AT BLACKTHORN WAS THE END?
Then a photograph appeared.
It was old.
Very old.
A photograph of my mother standing beside a man I had never seen before.
But I recognized the place.
Blackthorn Manor.
My father's face changed when he saw it.
I whispered, "Who is that?"
He didn't respond.
"Who is he?"
Dad stared at the screen.
"The man your mother was supposed to marry."
Silence.
I stared at him.
"My mother was engaged to another man?"
"Before she met me."
The photograph changed.
A second image appeared.
Then a third.
Then a document.
At the bottom was my mother's signature.
And beside it was another name.
Victor Ashford.
Nathan's father.
I felt sick.
Dad closed his eyes.
"The Ashfords didn't enter our lives by accident."
The countdown hit two minutes.
I whispered, "Nathan knew?"
"I don't know."
Another message appeared.
ASK YOUR HUSBAND WHY HIS FATHER KILLED YOUR MOTHER.
The room went silent.
Then every screen went black.
The countdown disappeared.
My father looked at me.
May you like
And in his eyes, for the first time in my life, I saw something I had never seen before.
Guilt.
