Chapter 11 - Three Stones, One TruthThe fireplace was in the north wing of the estate, inside a room that had been locked since Rhett's father died.
Conrad led Isa there at gunpoint.
She had spent three years cleaning this house, polishing its silver, dusting its portraits, and learning which floorboards creaked beneath a careless step. She knew the north wing better than most of the men who claimed to own it.
But she had never entered this room after the fire.
The door opened onto darkness.
Conrad flicked on the lights.
A broad marble fireplace dominated the far wall. Three carved stones formed its center, each marked with a different symbol: a circle, a line, and a small square.
Isa approached slowly.
“My father used to tell me stories about this room,” she said.
“Then perhaps you can tell me which stone hides the ledger.”
She examined the carvings.
The circle had a tiny scratch along its lower edge. The line was smooth. The square was worn at one corner, as if someone had touched it repeatedly.
She pressed the square.
Nothing happened.
Conrad raised his gun.
“Try again.”
Isa pressed the circle.
A quiet click sounded inside the wall.
The center stone shifted outward.
Behind it lay a narrow compartment containing a leather-bound book wrapped in oilcloth, along with a small envelope addressed to Rhett.
Conrad snatched the book.
His hands trembled when he opened it.
Page after page revealed payment records, account transfers, names, and dates. The ledger covered more than a decade of criminal activity. Some names belonged to men still powerful enough to ruin entire careers with one phone call.
Conrad turned several pages.
Then he stopped.
His face drained of color.
“What is it?” Isa asked.
He slammed the book shut.
“Nothing.”
But she had seen the page.
A handwritten note beside a list of payments bore the initials C.V.
Underneath was another line.
Authorization for the warehouse fire. Witnesses to be eliminated.
And directly below it was the name of Conrad's private security company.
He had just found the evidence that could destroy him.
“Give it to me,” Isa said.
Conrad laughed.
“You still believe truth is enough to save anyone.”
He slipped the ledger inside his coat.
Then he grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the door.
Isa twisted free, striking his wrist with the brass key. The gun discharged into the ceiling.
She ran.
Conrad shouted, and two guards appeared at the far end of the corridor.
Isa darted through a service entrance, crossed the pantry, and slammed into the kitchen. She overturned a tray of metal pots behind her, buying a few seconds as the guards stumbled through the doorway.
Her injured ribs screamed with every movement.
She reached the cellar stairs.
Rhett was gone.
The ropes lay cut on the floor.
For one brief second, hope surged through her.
Then she heard a gunshot from downstairs.
She ran.
Rhett stood at the bottom of the stairs, blood on his sleeve, one hand pressed against the wall. Anton was beside him, holding a pistol trained on a fallen guard.
“Isa!”
She reached him just as his knees buckled.
She caught his arm.
“What happened?”
“Conrad had a second guard.”
“You're bleeding.”
“I noticed.”
“You're impossible.”
“So I've been told.”
For one second, their foreheads touched.
Then Anton interrupted.
“Boss, we've got to move. The west entrance is compromised.”
Rhett looked toward the corridor.
“Where's Conrad?”
Isa's face fell.
“He has the ledger.”
Rhett's expression became frighteningly calm.
“Then we take it back.”
He tried to straighten, but pain forced him against the wall.
Isa gripped his hand.
“No. We get everyone out first.”
“Isa, that book contains evidence against the entire organization.”
“And if you die trying to retrieve it, Conrad wins.”
Rhett stared at her.
For once, he had no answer.
They escaped through the service tunnel beneath the estate, emerging beside the old stables. Anton's men brought a vehicle around while gunfire echoed from the house.
As they drove toward the city, Rhett held his injured arm against his chest.
Isa sat beside him, pressing a clean cloth to the wound.
“I found something else,” he said.
She looked up.
“What?”
He opened the envelope he had taken from the fireplace compartment before Conrad grabbed the ledger.
Inside was a letter from his father.
It was addressed to Rhett but contained one sentence underlined twice.
The last person you should trust is the man who has spent his life telling you he is protecting you.
Rhett looked toward the rain-streaked window.
“Conrad isn't the only person who knew about the fire.”
Isa went cold.
“Who else?”
He passed her the letter.
At the bottom was a name written in his father's hand.
MARCUS HALE.
They both stared at it.
Marcus, Rhett's assistant, had worked beside him for nine years.
Marcus, whose credentials had been used to disable the clinic's cameras.
Marcus, who had vanished into Conrad's hands.
Marcus, who had begged Rhett not to come looking for him.
Isa whispered, “Your father knew he was involved.”
Rhett folded the letter.
“No.”
His voice grew quieter.
“My father knew Marcus was afraid.”
He looked at her.
“And I think my uncle has been using that fear to control him ever since.”
Rhett reached for his phone and called the number Marcus had used for years.
It rang once.
Twice.
On the third ring, a man's breathless voice answered.
“Boss?”
Rhett closed his eyes.
“Marcus. Tell me where my mother is.”
Silence followed.
Then Marcus began to cry.
“I'm sorry, sir.”
May you like
A gunshot sounded through the phone.
The line went dead.
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