Mag-log inGwenThe library felt smaller after that. Not physically, psychologically. As though the walls themselves had shifted closer.For months, every road had seemed to lead toward Marcus Voss. Every discovery, every document and every hidden connection. Marcus had become the center of the web. Now the notebook was suggesting something entirely different. Someone stood above him. Someone powerful enough that even a man like Marcus Voss answered to them.I closed the notebook and rested it carefully on my lap. My hands had started trembling again. Adrian noticed immediately. Without a word, he reached for the glass of water sitting on the side table and handed it to me. I accepted it gratefully. The cold helped a little. My thoughts were racing too quickly. "Do you believe it?"The question left my mouth before I could stop it. Adrian leaned back slightly. "What?" "The notebook." I looked down at the worn black cover. "The woman who wrote this was me, but she was also living through unimagin
GwenFor a long moment, neither Adrian nor I spoke. The words seemed to hang between us. They took her son. Not a vague fear or a confused statement. It was a specific claim. A child and a mother. Another victim.The realization sent a chill through me. Because until now, despite everything we had uncovered, part of me still viewed the farmhouse as something built around me. A place created for my disappearance. A prison designed for my destruction. Now that assumption was beginning to crumble.If there had been another woman, then there could have been others. The possibility felt enormous and terrifying. I lowered my gaze back to the notebook. My fingers trembled slightly against the paper. The entry continued beneath the sentence.'She cries at night.' I swallowed, hard. 'The walls are thin. Sometimes I hear her calling a name. Sometimes she sounds angry. Sometimes she sounds broken. Today she begged them to let her see her son.' My chest tightened painfully. The words felt intima
GwenBy the time breakfast ended, nobody had much of an appetite left. The atmosphere inside the villa had changed completely. A few days ago, we were chasing suspicions. Now we had evidence. Not enough to expose everyone. Not enough to understand the full scope of what happened. But enough to know that the missing years contained far more darkness than we originally believed.The notebook sat at the center of all of it. A simple black notebook. Nothing remarkable about it. Yet everyone seemed to orbit around its existence. Because it represented something precious. The truth. Or at least a piece of it.Adrian spent most of the morning coordinating with his people. My father disappeared into his study. Sebastian began reviewing old family records and correspondence. Matteo practically turned the security office into his second home. Meanwhile, Miguel remained close to Kayla.The arrangement felt natural now. For six months, he had become one of the safest people in her world. A consta
GwenThe words seemed to linger in the air long after Adrian said them. "A room with your name on the door." I stared at him.Part of me expected him to take the sentence back. To explain that there had been some mistake. A clerical error. A misunderstanding. Anything. Instead, Adrian held my gaze steadily. Which told me there had been no mistake at all.My mother was the first to react. "What do you mean her name was on the door?" Her voice sounded strained and fragile. The question everyone wanted answered. Adrian remained calm. "The team sent photographs." My pulse accelerated as he unlocked his phone.Nobody seemed willing to breathe. Then Adrian placed the device on the table. The image filled the screen. I felt the blood drain from my face. The photograph showed a narrow hallway, faded wallpaper, a row of doors and old fluorescent lighting. The building looked abandoned now, but it hadn't always been. You could tell that someone had invested money into the facility once.A place
GwenThe dining room remained silent long after my mother's words faded. I stared at her. Not because I thought she was mistaken. Because I could see from her expression that she wasn't. The realization was unsettling.For months we had been looking backward, trying to understand what happened six years ago. Meanwhile, one of the people connected to that nightmare might have been walking freely through our lives in the present.My father looked stunned. "When?" The question emerged more sharply than he intended. My mother flinched slightly. Immediately, his expression softened. "Elena, think carefully." She nodded. "I am." Her hands remained wrapped tightly around her coffee cup. I wasn't sure she had taken a single sip since breakfast began. "I never paid much attention to him." She looked ashamed as she said it. "Why would I? Camilla was always introducing people. Lawyers. Advisors. Charity organizers. Business associates." A bitter feeling settled in my chest. That was how Camilla
GwenFor several seconds, nobody reacted. Not because Adrian's words were unclear but because they were terrifyingly and painfully clear. My mother was the first to find her voice. "What do you mean she wasn't alone?" Adrian placed his phone on the table and looked around the room. His expression had become unreadable. I had learned enough about him over the past six months to know that was never a good sign. The calmer Adrian appeared, the more dangerous the situation usually was."The security footage captured a second individual arriving with her." My father's face darkened. "Why wasn't this noticed immediately?" "Because he never entered through the front." A knot formed in my stomach. Nobody interrupted. Adrian continued. "He remained outside the primary camera angles."My father swore under his breath. The sound startled my mother. Not because of the language. Because Victor Cruz almost never swore. At least not in front of the family. "What happened?" Sebastian asked. "The rev
Adrian’s POVI had forgotten how loud Miguel Santos could be. The man had not even stepped inside my house before his voice carried through the hallways like a storm. I stood at the foot of the stairs, Kayla tucked safely against my side as she peeked at the commotion from behind my shoulder.The f
Adrian’s POVMost battles announce themselves with noise, clashing steel, cracking gunfire, the snap of bones or the hiss of a blade.This one arrived as silence.The kind that slithers into your lungs and sits there, heavy and infuriatingly patient. The kind that reminds you that even a man like m
Gwen News of my “improvement” spread quickly.Julian, my older brother, became less anxious in his hovering. Camilla regained her sugary smile. Even Father Cruise, stern and unreadable, allowed himself a nod of approval.“She’s stabilizing,” I heard him murmur to Julian. “Perhaps with time, she’ll
Gwen’s POVThe next session with Dr. Weston began the same way the first one had....quietly, sweetly and deceptively. She had a soft smile, soft voice, soft eyes. Everything about her was muted, like the sound of rain against thick curtains. Safe, if you were not paying attention. Dangerous, if you







