Chapter 2 - Grant Whitmore had buried men for less than what had happened in his garden.Now his entire estate was under lockdown.
Every gate was sealed.
Every road leading out had been blocked.
Helicopters swept over the surrounding woods.
But Lily was gone.
So was Atlas.
Grant stood in the security room while seventeen monitors flashed across the walls.
“Show me the last camera.”
The head of security replayed the footage.
The garden appeared.
Claire running.
Lily turning toward the trees.
Then a shadow.
A gloved hand.
Static.
The screen went black.
“Enhance it.”
“We already did.”
“Do it again.”
The technician obeyed.
Frame by frame.
Nothing.
Then Grant saw it.
A vehicle reflected faintly in a window across the garden.
Black van.
No plates.
His jaw tightened.
“Who was watching that area?”
“Marcus Hale's team.”
Grant slowly looked over.
Marcus was standing near the door.
“You said all cameras were working.”
“They were.”
“Then why was this one disabled?”
Marcus stared back.
“I don't know.”
Grant's eyes hardened.
“That's a bad answer.”
Marcus didn't blink.
“For years you've trusted me.”
Grant stepped closer.
“For years I thought I knew you.”
Silence.
Then Atlas's growl echoed through Grant's memory.
He understood.
Too late.
“Find Marcus's vehicle.”
Security checked the records.
No response.
A minute passed.
Then another guard looked up.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“Marcus Hale's SUV is missing.”
Grant's hand tightened around the silver pendant.
“Locate it.”
“Already trying.”
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
Grant answered.
A distorted voice spoke.
“You finally noticed.”
Grant's eyes went cold.
“Where is my daughter?”
“She isn't your daughter.”
The room went silent.
Grant felt something heavy drop inside his chest.
“My daughter?”
The voice laughed softly.
“She belongs to the woman who was erased.”
Grant stared at the screen.
“Where is Lily?”
“Find the truth.”
“Who are you?”
The call ended.
Grant immediately ordered every available man onto the streets.
Meanwhile, Claire was sitting alone in the interrogation room.
She looked shattered.
Blood from a cut on her forehead had dried against her cheek.
Grant entered.
She looked up.
“Where is my daughter?”
“I’m going to bring her back.”
“You don't know that.”
Grant stopped.
Claire stood.
“You don't know Lily.”
“I know enough.”
“No.”
Her voice trembled.
“You know she's three years old. You know I'm a maid. You know she likes white blankets and strawberry milk.”
Grant stared at her.
Claire stepped closer.
“But you don't know why someone has been watching her.”
Grant went still.
“What did you just say?”
Claire realized she'd revealed too much.
Her face changed.
Grant noticed.
“You knew.”
“No.”
“You knew someone was watching her.”
Claire looked away.
“Claire.”
She said nothing.
“Tell me now.”
Her hands trembled.
“I saw the cameras.”
“When?”
“Months ago.”
Grant's expression darkened.
“You should have told me.”
“I tried.”
“No one told me.”
“They didn't want you to know.”
“Who?”
Claire closed her eyes.
Then whispered:
“Your father.”
Grant froze.
“My father died eight years ago.”
“I know.”
“Then explain.”
Claire looked at him.
“He left instructions.”
“What instructions?”
“To watch Lily.”
The room went silent.
“Why?”
Claire swallowed.
“Because he believed someone would come for her when she turned three.”
Grant's blood ran cold.
“She turned three yesterday.”
Claire nodded.
“They've been waiting.”
“For what?”
She looked toward the window.
“For the birthday.”
Grant walked out.
His father.
Dead for eight years.
Yet somehow he'd known.
Back in the security room, the technician called out.
“Sir.”
Grant returned.
“We recovered a partial image from the disabled camera.”
The screen displayed a blurred figure.
A woman.
Holding Lily.
Grant stared.
Then Atlas appeared in the frame.
Standing between the woman and Lily.
Growling.
The woman stepped backward.
The image froze.
Grant zoomed in.
A scar was visible on the woman's wrist.
A symbol.
Three interlocking circles.
Grant's face went pale.
He knew it.
The same symbol was carved into the silver pendant.
A symbol connected to an organization he'd spent years believing was dead.
“The Black Veil.”
One guard whispered:
“What?”
Grant turned.
“Shut every road out of the city.”
His phone rang again.
This time it was from an unknown landline.
Grant answered.
A child's voice whispered.
“Mr. Grant?”
He stopped breathing.
“Lily?”
Silence.
Then:
“Atlas says don't come.”
Grant's blood froze.
“Lily, where are you?”
A man's voice suddenly replaced hers.
“You have six hours.”
“For what?”
“To open the Whitmore vault.”
Grant stared at the phone.
“No.”
“You want the girl?”
“Yes.”
“Then give us what your father stole.”
Grant's expression changed.
“My father stole nothing.”
The man laughed.
“That's what he told you?”
The line went dead.
Grant immediately ordered his men to bring up every record connected to his father.
But Claire suddenly whispered something.
“Grant.”
He looked at her.
“Your father didn't steal something.”
“What then?”
“He hid it.”
“Where?”
Claire's eyes filled with fear.
“Inside the person he trusted most.”
Grant stared at her.
“Who?”
Claire looked toward the empty corridor.
Then she whispered:
“You.”
Grant felt the entire world tilt.
Because if Claire was telling the truth, the vault wasn't the real target.
He was.
And somewhere beneath the city, Lily was being held by people who knew something Grant had never known about himself.
May you like
Something that might explain why Atlas had chosen her.
Something that had begun long before she was born.
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