LOGINSebastian's POV"You chose." My voice doesn't sound like mine.Arthur lifts his head. He meets my eyes. For a second, I expect the version of him I grew up respecting. The sharpness. The command. The man who taught me that empires survive on precision and legacy survives on control.That man is not in the room anymore. This one just looks old. "Yes," he says. "You chose which version of their lives survived." "Yes." "While telling me you knew nothing."Arthur's cane taps the floor once. "I told you I didn't know about Nadia specifically until later." "Later means after you already signed the continuation." Silence. That is confirmation. Good or not good. Nothing is good anymore.I look at the addendum in Aurora's hand.Chair approval. Two years after my father's death.Which means Arthur sat in a room, read a file about two girls who were being moved and managed like inventory, and signed his name at the bottom because the family needed it handled cleanly, not Vincent alone or Catheri
Aurora’s POV“That’s a lie.”Vincent says it before I finish my first sentence. Good. Let him interrupt. Let the board hear how badly he needs to break the order of this room.I keep my hand flat on page one and look straight at the center screen. “I’m going to continue.” The silver-haired woman nods once. “Do.”Vincent laughs under his breath. “You’re letting a girl with stolen papers dictate an emergency session.” The woman does not look at him. “You had years to speak cleanly, Vincent. You chose not to.” That lands hard. I keep going.“Twenty-six years ago, two girls were separated at birth. One was left visible under the Sinclair name. One was moved through a Reed Foundation facility and buried under alternate guardianship. ” I tap page one. “This page identifies Subject A as retained under Sinclair family identity. This page," I lift the copied transfer record, “contains the signatures of Vincent Reed, Raymond Sinclair, and Victoria Sinclair.” Then I lift the torn page fragment.
Aurora’s POV“Then use it.” The words leave my mouth before anyone else can breathe. Every head in the room turns toward me, not the board screens, not Vincent. Sebastian. Good.Let him hear it from me. He is still standing near the center of the study, shoulders locked, eyes sharp, carrying the weight of his father’s name like it just turned into a weapon he never asked to inherit.“Use what?” Vincent asks, though he already knows. I do not look at him. I keep my eyes on Sebastian. “The founder clause,” I say. “If Adrian wrote it for this, then use it.”Sebastian’s face doesn’t change.That means he’s thinking too fast to show anything.Arthur answers before he can. “Emergency bloodline authority only opens archived material. It does not remove Vincent from operational power.” The silver-haired woman on the board screen cuts in. “It does if those archives prove misuse of Foundation assets and unauthorized child detention under board cover.”That lands not with surprise, with timing.
Aurora’s POV“Answer the question.” My voice cuts through the room before the silence settles properly. No one pretends not to know which question I mean.Why, Damien?Why not Sebastian?Why all those years of steering me toward the safer man when the more dangerous one had my whole life sitting quietly inside his family name.Vincent looks at me first. Then at Sebastian, and then back at the page now hidden inside my bag, like he still believes paper is the most dangerous thing in the room. He is wrong, not tonight. “Because Damien was easy,” Catherine says. That surprises all of us, even Vincent. Good. Let her keep doing that. I turn toward her. “Easy how?”“Easy to flatter. Easy to fund. Easy to make feel important.” Her eyes flick once to Vincent. “He wanted power, but he wanted it the lazy way. Men like that are simple to use.”Megan laughs once. Cold. “You mean he was stupid.” “No,” Catherine says. “Stupid men break too early. Damien was patient. That made him useful.” I feel Se
Nadia’s POV“Read it.”Catherine says it like she’s tired of everyone protecting each other from words.Lucas still doesn’t move. He stands there with the sealed plastic sleeve in one hand and those two men behind him like borrowed muscle, his face caught somewhere between useful and trapped.“Lucas,” Catherine says again, sharper this time. “Show them.” He hesitates. That tells me everything I need to know. Whatever Victoria wrote, it matters more than the rest. I hold out my hand. He looks at me, then at Vincent, then back at me, and finally gives me the sleeve.The plastic crackles in my fingers. My hands are steady enough to open it, which feels wrong because nothing inside me is steady right now.Aurora steps closer without touching me.Sebastian does the same on my other side. I can feel both of them there. Good. I need that more than I want to admit. I unfold the page.Typed first. Clinical. Cold. The kind of language people use when they want to hurt you without ever saying th
Aurora’s POV“Behind me.”Sebastian says it without looking at me. I don’t move.The vault door groans wider. Red light from the corridor spills across the floor in a thin line. For one second, all I can see is shadow. A shape. Then another. Then one person steps into the opening fully, and the whole room changes.Lucas, of course. His shirt is bloodstained at one shoulder. His face is pale. But he’s standing, breathing hard, and very much alive. Behind him are two house security men I recognize from earlier.Vincent’s smile disappears. Good.Lucas looks past us, straight at Vincent, and says, “Sorry, sir. We had to improvise.” Sir. Not Sebastian.Vincent. I grip my bag tighter. So the traitor came back. That should surprise me less than it does.Sebastian steps forward. “You picked a side.”Lucas finally looks at him. His expression is almost apologetic. “Too late,” he says. That answer should not sting Sebastian. I see it land anyway. Small. Sharp. The kind of hurt pride refuses to
Aurora’s POV“Call Megan.”Sebastian says it the second he ends the call with Lucas. I already have her number open. She answers on the first ring. “That was fast.”“No games,” I say. “Someone badged into the west wing using Adrian Reed’s credentials twenty minutes ago.” Silence, not confusion, but
Sebastian’s POV“You’re not sleeping.”Aurora doesn’t look up from the papers spread across my table.“No.”It’s almost four in the morning. Nadia finally gave in thirty minutes ago and is asleep on the couch with one arm over her face, like she was trying to block out the whole night and lost half
Aurora’s POV“Two of them are dead, Aurora.”Sebastian says it the second the car door shuts behind us. We are back inside the townhouse. The transfer box is open on the table. The torn page is in my bag. Nadia is standing by the couch, like sitting down would mean accepting too much too fast.I lo
Sebastian’s PO“Give me the page.”My voice comes out harder than I mean it to.Aurora looks up at me, then at Nadia, then back at the torn sheet in her hand. Smoke is starting to push under the basement door now. Not thick yet. Thick enough that we do not have long.“She signed it,” Nadia says. No







