Chapter 10 - The Betrayal Nobody SawBianca came to ValeCore at nine that night.

She walked into my office alone.

No sunglasses.

No silk scarf.

No influencer smile.

Just my sister.

"Did Mom tell you?"

"No."

"Did Dad?"

"No."

"Then who?"

I turned the laptop toward her.

She saw the contract.

Her face drained.

"I never meant for this."

"You signed it."

"I was eighteen."

"That's still signing."

"I didn't understand."

"You understood enough to sign a confidentiality agreement."

"I thought it was a scholarship."

I stared.

"What?"

"They offered me a program."

"Northbridge?"

"They said they were investors."

"What did they want?"

"Nothing at first."

"And later?"

She looked away.

"They asked questions."

"About me?"

"Yes."

"What kind?"

"Where you lived. What you were building. Whether you had investors."

My jaw tightened.

"Did you tell them?"

"Some things."

"How much?"

"Not the source code."

"That's not what I asked."

She closed her eyes.

"I told them you were building a company."

"That's all?"

She looked at me.

"I told them you were terrified of Dad."

I said nothing.

"And I told them Mom had been using your trust."

My heart hardened.

"You knew."

"Not how much."

"You knew."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She started crying.

"Because every time I tried, they threatened Mom."

I froze.

"Threatened her how?"

"They had evidence."

"What evidence?"

"That she had helped move the money."

"And?"

"They said they'd send it to Dad."

I felt a cold anger rise.

"So you protected her."

"Yes."

"By protecting the people blackmailing her."

"I thought I was saving my family."

"You were saving yourselves."

She flinched.

Then she whispered:

"I know."

I walked toward the window.

The city glittered below.

Fifteen billion dollars.

Thousands of employees.

A company I had built from nothing.

And all I could think about was a kitchen table and three empty chairs.

"Who controls Northbridge?"

Bianca wiped her face.

"I don't know."

"You met them."

"Once."

"Who?"

She hesitated.

"Marcus Vale."

I turned.

"Who?"

"My uncle."

I stared.

"Mom's brother died before I was born."

"That's what everyone thinks."

My skin prickled.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know."

"Bianca."

"He contacted me through email."

"From where?"

"London."

Europe.

The trip.

I understood.

"Your trip wasn't a vacation."

"No."

"It was a meeting."

She nodded.

"With Marcus."

My phone rang.

Unknown number.

I answered.

A man's voice spoke calmly.

"Hello, Ava."

I froze.

Bianca went pale.

The voice continued.

"Your sister has been very cooperative."

"Who are you?"

A quiet laugh.

"You know exactly who I am."

"No."

"Then ask your mother."

The call ended.

A second later, an encrypted file arrived.

One video.

I opened it.

My mother was sitting in a room I didn't recognize.

Across from her was a man.

His face was turned away.

But his watch was visible.

Black metal.

Silver scar.

My father's watch.

Then the man leaned forward.

And I saw his face.

My knees nearly gave out.

It wasn't my father.

It was the man whose photograph had been scratched out in the basement.

Marcus Vale.

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