Chapter 10

I froze on the sidewalk, shoulder bag pressed tight against my side — inside it were the crash‑scene photos, the witness statement, and the small discarded tracker. Every warning we’d read about Ms. Hale flashed through my mind: Rowan’s voice memo accusing her of paying off police, the scrap note behind the boathouse brick, all the quiet doubts we’d held back. Yet there she sat, leaning slightly out of the sedan’s rear window, her usual flawless composure frayed around the edges.

“Zara, please get in quickly,” she repeated, voice low and urgent. “If Diana’s surveillance team spots you standing here with me, they’ll assume we’re conspiring — and neither of us will make it back to the penthouse safely.”

I glanced toward the bus stop, scanning for anyone watching. No obvious figures lingered, but I could not be certain. If I ran, would she chase me? If I got in, was I walking into a trap? After a sharp breath, I opened the rear‑door and slid onto the seat beside her. The door clicked shut softly behind me. The driver pulled away immediately.

“Where are we going?” I asked, keeping my tone steady, one hand resting near the bag’s zipper.

“To a small café near the old waterfront — a place my late husband used to own. No Vance‑industry ties, no Diana‑linked staff.” She tilted her head, studying me. “I know you found safety‑deposit box 417. I know you took its contents. And I know Rowan’s recording made you believe I bribed the investigating officers ten years ago.”

My heart skipped. “Is it true?”

Ms. Hale stared out the side window at passing city streets, a quiet sadness settling over her face. “Partially. I did deliver envelopes of cash to the lead investigator. But I was not working for Diana. I was sent by Caelum’s father — secretly.”

That knocked me off‑balance. “His own father?”

“Before the crash, he suspected Diana was plotting to seize the company. He feared she would arrange an ‘accident’ for him. He told me: if he died suddenly, hand over hush‑money to keep the official report listed as an accident — temporarily. He wanted Caelum to be safe long enough to grow strong enough to uncover the truth later. If foul‑play was exposed too soon, Diana’s allies on the board would destroy Caelum before he could fight back.” Her voice cracked. “I followed his orders. For ten years I’ve carried that secret, pretending loyalty to Diana to keep watch over Caelum. Rowan only saw the payments — he never knew why they were made.”

I sat back, processing the massive twist. She had not been the villain. She had been a hidden protector all along. The warning note behind the boathouse brick — it must have been planted by the third unknown player, to turn us against our quiet ally.

“Who sent that note saying ‘Beware Hale’?” I asked.

“I don’t know their identity,” she said. “But I know they’ve been feeding selective clues to both sides, trying to force everyone into open conflict. They want Diana, Caelum, and me all to unravel each other so they can step in and claim Vance Industries for themselves.” She pulled a folded photo from her pocket: a younger man, unfamiliar to me. “This is Elias Voss.”

My breath caught. “Voss? That’s my last name.”

“Elias was your father’s younger brother — your great‑uncle. He was pushed out of the company decades ago after a bitter dispute with Caelum’s grandfather. He’s the hidden third party. He’s the one sending the anonymous texts, arranging small coincidences… including steering you toward that lobby collision the morning you met Caelum.”

The ground felt like it shifted beneath me. It had not been Diana who arranged for me to walk into Vance Tower. It was my own family.

My phone vibrated inside my pocket — a new anonymous message, no longer mysterious at all now: Well done, Zara. You’ve brought all the pieces close enough. Tomorrow everything begins to fall.

Ms. Hale’s jaw tightened. “He’s been waiting for the board‑review week. He plans to reveal partial, manipulated evidence publicly — framing Diana for murder, making Caelum look unstable, then stepping forward as the ‘rightful hidden heir’ to take control.”

Just then my phone rang — Caelum’s name on the screen. I answered quickly. “Caelum — I’m with Ms. Hale. We learned —”

“I know,” he said, his voice tight with alarm. “Elias just sent me a direct message. He says he’s taken Rowan. If we don’t bring the box‑417 evidence to the abandoned harbour warehouse by sunset, he’ll leak a falsified confession that pins Caelum for his father’s death.”

A cold wave of dread swept over me. We had thought we were chasing Diana’s secrets. Now we realized we had been walking straight into Elias’s carefully laid trap all along.

Ms. Hale leaned forward, speaking into the phone. “Sir — do not go alone. I know a hidden side‑entrance to that warehouse. We can arrive ahead of you and set an observation position.”

Outside the car window, afternoon sunlight faded into heavy grey cloud. Four days remained until the critical board vote. The real enemy was not who we had believed. And now Rowan’s life hung in the balance.