Chapter Thirteen: The Safe Deposit Key

The office was silent.

The tiny silver key lay inside the hollowed-out book, catching the light from the desk lamp.

No one reached for it.

No one dared.

It suddenly felt less like a key...

And more like the beginning of a truth my family had spent twenty-four years hiding.

Ronan broke the silence first.

“Don't touch it.”

I looked at him.

“Why?”

“Because whoever called you knew you'd find it.”

“That doesn't mean it's dangerous.”

“No.” He kept his eyes on the key. “It means they're watching.”

The realization settled over the room like ice.

Watching.

My gaze swept across the office.

The framed awards.

The bookshelves.

The paintings.

The smoke detector above the conference table.

I froze.

“There.”

Marcus followed my line of sight.

“What?”

“The detector.”

Ronan looked up.

“It wasn't replaced after the renovation.”

“How do you know?”

“I noticed it during the Helix presentation.”

He dragged a chair beneath it and climbed carefully.

The detector looked ordinary.

Until he twisted it.

Instead of wiring...

A miniature camera stared back at us.

Marcus swore under his breath.

Ronan climbed down, holding the device in his hand.

“It isn't connected to the building.”

He turned it over.

“It transmits wirelessly.”

“For how long?” I asked.

He examined the battery.

“At least two months.”

Someone had been watching my office.

Listening to every meeting.

Every conversation.

Every decision.

My chest tightened.

“Marcus.”

“Yes?”

“Everyone who entered this office in the last two months.”

He nodded immediately.

“I'll make a list.”

“No.”

I looked directly at him.

“Make three lists.”

His expression sharpened.

“Employees.”

He nodded.

“Contractors.”

Another nod.

“Visitors.”

“I understand.”

He hurried from the office.

The moment the door closed, Ronan placed the camera inside an evidence bag.

“You're not giving that to Voss.”

“Not yet.”

“You don't trust her?”

“I don't trust coincidence.”

He looked around the office once more.

“The caller knew about the key.”

“So?”

“So they wanted us to find it.”

I frowned.

“That doesn't make sense.”

“It does if what's inside matters less than where it leads.”

I looked down at the silver key again.

There was something engraved along its side.

Tiny numbers.

A-2719.

Ronan took out his phone.

“Bank?”

“Maybe.”

“Storage locker?”

“Possible.”

I picked up the hollowed-out book.

A folded piece of paper slipped from between the back cover and the hidden compartment.

It landed upside down on the carpet.

Three handwritten words.

Trust no board.

My father's handwriting.

I recognized it immediately.

The room became very still.

Ronan looked at me.

“When was the last time you saw him write?”

“This morning.”

“No.”

His voice remained calm.

“When was the last time he wrote by hand?”

I thought back.

Business contracts were digital.

Board approvals were electronic.

Even family notes were typed.

“Months.”

He nodded.

“That ink is fresh.”

I looked again.

The black ink hadn't faded.

My father hadn't hidden the message years ago.

He had hidden it today.

Which meant—

“He was in this office.”

“Before he disappeared,” Ronan finished.

A chill spread through me.

He hadn't come to Silverfang because of the murder.

He had already planned to leave me something.

The kidnapping hadn't interrupted his plan.

It had happened after he completed it.

My phone vibrated.

Marcus.

I answered immediately.

“Tell me.”

“I found something.”

“What?”

“One visitor wasn't scheduled.”

I exchanged a glance with Ronan.

“Who?”

“There isn't a name.”

“What do you mean?”

“The visitor log is blank.”

“That isn't possible.”

“It is now.”

Marcus sounded unsettled.

“The receptionist remembers signing someone in.”

“But?”

“The electronic record was erased.”

“When?”

“During the eleven-minute blackout.”

Ronan's eyes narrowed.

“Did anyone see the visitor?”

“Yes.”

“What did they look like?”

Marcus hesitated.

“The receptionist said...”

“What?”

“She thought it was your father.”

I stopped breathing.

“My father?”

“She said the man looked exactly like Chairman Sebastian Vale.”

The office fell silent.

“That makes no sense,” I whispered.

Marcus continued.

“She only realized something was wrong after reviewing the lobby footage.”

“What was wrong?”

“The tie.”

“The tie?”

“She remembers your father wearing a navy tie.”

“And?”

“The man on the camera was wearing burgundy.”

A tiny detail.

The kind almost everyone overlooked.

Almost.

Except my father never wore burgundy.

Not once in my entire life.

Ronan slowly folded his arms.

“So there were two Sebastians.”

“No.”

I shook my head.

“There was my father...”

“And someone pretending to be him.”

Exactly.

Marcus spoke again.

“One more thing.”

“What now?”

“The receptionist remembered something strange.”

I closed my eyes briefly.

“Go on.”

“She greeted him by name.”

“Yes?”

“He answered before she spoke.”

My eyes opened.

“What?”

“She hadn't said 'Chairman Vale' yet.”

The realization hit me instantly.

The impersonator had known she recognized Sebastian.

He'd responded before she introduced him.

He'd rehearsed the encounter.

Every word.

Every step.

Every movement.

Someone hadn't simply kidnapped my father.

Someone had spent weeks—

Maybe months—

Preparing to become him.

A knock interrupted us.

Three slow knocks.

Not hurried.

Not nervous.

Deliberate.

Ronan looked toward the door.

Marcus was still on the phone.

Neither of us had called anyone.

Another three knocks echoed through the office.

Then a familiar voice spoke from the hallway.

“Adrian.”

I froze.

My father's voice.

Perfectly calm.

Perfectly clear.

“Open the door.”

Ronan looked at me.

Neither of us moved.

Because according to every piece of evidence we had...

Sebastian Vale had been kidnapped.

Which meant only one thing.

The man standing outside my office...

Wasn't my father.