Chapter 32: The Cipher of Blood and Ash

Vespera

The phone in my hand felt as hot as burning coal.

…the sapphire ring your grandmother gave her tonight was taken from her father’s dead finger.

I stared at the glowing screen until the words became blurry. My whole body went cold. It felt like the air had frozen inside my lungs, and I could barely breathe.

I slowly looked back at the bed.

Kasimir was still asleep. His chest moved up and down under the dark velvet blanket with every deep breath. A small spot of fresh blood had appeared on the bandage over his shoulder, probably because he had moved and hurt the wound again.

Even while sleeping, his jaw was tight.

He looked so vulnerable lying there.

Yet he was still the same man who had been willing to do anything to protect me.

And yet, his tactical vest was lying on the floor, and that phone was proof that he had been protecting the very people who had destroyed my life.

He had erased the autopsy report.

He knew.

He had always known.

A violent shiver ran through my body, but I forced myself not to scream. I didn’t drop the phone. Instead, I carefully placed it back on his damaged vest.

Then I slowly stepped backward, my bare feet making no sound until they touched the cold wooden floor of the hallway.

I didn’t go toward the main gates. There were guards everywhere, and I had nowhere to escape. Liesea was trapped in the mountains, and I was trapped inside the Adler family’s walls.

So I quietly walked down the dark, carpeted stairs toward the private library.

The room smelled of old whiskey, cold coffee, and worn leather. The tall glass doors leading to the balcony were still slightly open. Cold mountain air came through the gap, making the heavy curtains move like dry leaves.

I closed the oak door behind me and locked it. Then I pushed the heavy brass bolt into place.

I hurried to the large mahogany desk where the pages from my father’s hidden vault were still spread out under the soft light of the desk lamp.

My hands were shaking so badly that I almost knocked over the glass inkwell. I pulled the old leather book closer and quickly flipped to the back. The pages showing the money transfers were attached inside the cover.

My eyes moved quickly over the numbers and names.

L. Falkenrath.

That was the offshore account that had slowly taken almost all of my father’s money three weeks before he died.

“Think, Vespera. Think,” I whispered, pressing my hands against my aching temples.

My father had always been careful. He knew everything about keeping records hidden. His work was full of codes, secret account numbers, and private records.

He never wrote anything down without making sure there was a way to protect it.

I pulled the desk lamp closer and tilted the green glass shade until the light fell directly on the old yellow paper.

That was when I noticed something.

Along the left side of the account numbers, my father had made tiny holes in the paper. They were so small that I almost missed them. At first, I thought they were just stains or marks from age.

But under the bright light, I could see that they formed a pattern.

Three small holes.

A space.

Then two holes.

A long red line had also been drawn through some of the zeros.

This wasn’t a normal bank record.

It was a secret code.

My father had used the same code years ago to track shipping containers across the Baltic Sea. He had taught me how to use it when I was a child.

My breath caught.

My heart started beating so hard that I could hear it in my ears.

I pulled a sheet of Alpine Ridge paper from the desk drawer and grabbed a fountain pen. My hands were shaking as I began comparing the tiny marks with the numbers in each transaction.

I moved the numbers six places to the left, exactly the way my father had taught me at our kitchen table in Hamburg.

Row 4, Column 2: G

Row 12, Column 1: R

Row 1, Column 9: E

Row 8, Column 4: T

Row 3, Column 6: A

The pen slipped from my fingers and left a long blue line across the white paper.

My knees suddenly went weak. I grabbed the edge of the heavy oak desk to stop myself from falling.

The code wasn’t pointing to some shell company in Panama. It wasn’t pointing to Soren Lindner either.

The tiny marks revealed the main registration number for Adler Maritime Sub-Zero, a secret branch of the company registered directly under Greta Adler’s personal tax ID.

My hands started shaking. Every payment that had slowly destroyed Falkenrath Logistics was connected to Greta.

The stolen pension money. The money taken from the medical trust. The Baltic shipping routes that had been sabotaged. It had all been sent straight into Greta’s personal account.

She had done it to destroy my father and force his company into bankruptcy. She hadn’t simply watched him lose everything. She had planned his downfall piece by piece, year after year.

She had taken his life’s work away from him so the Adler family could take over his shipping routes and the sapphire ring sitting inside the velvet box on my nightstand. It was the final trophy.

A sick reminder taken from a broken man after Greta had made sure he would die.

“God… oh God…” I whispered, tears finally spilling down my face.

Everything had been a lie.

The protection, the safety.

Even the slow, painful love that had grown between Kasimir and me over the past three months.

It had all been a trap.

A cage meant to keep me from discovering the truth about my father’s death.

Kasimir hadn’t saved me.

He had brought me here to keep me under his control to make sure I could never uncover the truth about Greta’s biggest crime.

Then I heard a soft, heavy sound from the hallway.

Tap.

I felt a sudden chill.

Tap. Tap.

I froze.

My hands stayed above the decoded paper, and I stopped breathing for a moment. The footsteps were slow and heavy. Someone was walking down the carpeted hallway toward the library.

It wasn’t Kasimir. His steps were lighter and quicker.

It wasn’t Jonas either. His footsteps were usually firm and steady.

Then I heard it.

Clack.

My heart seemed to stop.

It was the sharp sound of a three-notched cane hitting the wooden floor right outside the library door. I stared at the heavy brass lock. Slowly, the door handle began to turn.

Then a soft voice came through the keyhole. It was quiet and almost gentle, but something about it sent fear rushing through my body.

“I know you’re in there, Vespera,” Greta Adler said softly. “Open the door, child. It’s time we talked about what Kasimir has been hiding in his safe.”