Chapter 6

Chapter Six

I stared at the safe.

Six numbers.

I hadn’t thought about them in years.

My father had made me memorize them when I was seven.

Maybe eight.

We’d been sitting at the kitchen table doing math homework when he wrote them across the top of my worksheet.

3-1-7-9-2-4.

“Again,” he’d said.

I’d rolled my eyes.

“Three-one-seven-nine-two-four.”

“Again.”

“Dad.”

“Evie.”

That tone.

The one that meant he wasn’t playing.

I’d repeated them.

He’d made me do it again the next morning.

And the morning after that.

Eventually it became a joke between us.

Whenever he caught me doing something careless, he’d randomly ask.

What’s the number?

I’d groan.

Then he’d smile and go back to whatever he was doing.

I always assumed it was something stupid.

An old alarm code.

A locker combination.

Maybe the PIN to an account he wanted me to know in case of an emergency.

Eventually he stopped asking.

And I forgot to wonder why.

Until now.

“317924.”

Martin’s smile disappeared.

That was enough.

I stepped toward the safe.

“That’s it, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer.

“You knew I’d remember.”

“Your father knew.”

Something about the way he said it made my skin crawl.

“You keep talking about him like you knew him.”

“I did.”

“How well?”

“Very.”

I turned away from the safe.

“Then let’s start there.”

Martin sighed.

“We don’t have time.”

“I’ve had several men tell me that in the last twenty-four hours. I’m getting tired of it.”

“You have no idea what’s happening.”

“Correct. Which is why you’re going to explain it.”

His eyes moved toward the hidden door.

Nervous.

That bothered me.

“Are you afraid of Lucian?”

He laughed.

“No.”

“Adrian?”

The laugh disappeared.

Interesting.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did he send you?”

“No.”

“Then who did?”

Martin looked at me.

“No one.”

“You just happened to be sitting in a secret room beneath my mother’s house at exactly six o’clock?”

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

“That’s not less creepy.”

“I didn’t expect it to take seven years.”

My stomach tightened.

“Seven years?”

“Open the safe.”

“No.”

His expression hardened.

“Open it.”

“I don’t take orders well.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“From whom?”

Silence.

I stepped closer.

“Who have you been talking to about me?”

“Open the safe, Evelyn.”

“Tell me why.”

“Because what’s inside belongs to you.”

“Then you won’t mind if I wait until the police arrive.”

For the first time, Martin looked genuinely alarmed.

“No police.”

“Why?”

“No police.”

He stood.

I backed away.

“Sit down.”

He ignored me.

“Martin.”

He took another step.

I reached into my purse.

The brass key Lucian had given me was there.

So was my phone.

No gun.

Brilliant.

I’d walked into a secret basement room to meet a presumed murderer without a weapon.

My survival instincts deserved an award.

“Don’t come any closer.”

Martin stopped.

“I am not going to hurt you.”

“Another phrase I’m getting tired of hearing.”

“Evelyn, if Lucian finds out I’m alive—”

“He already knows.”

Martin froze.

I held up my phone.

“Adrian sent us your picture.”

Something changed in his face.

“Adrian contacted you?”

“Several times.”

“Today?”

“Yes.”

Martin whispered something under his breath.

“What?”

He paced away from me.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“What wasn’t?”

“He wasn’t supposed to come back.”

“Adrian?”

Martin didn’t answer.

“Martin.”

He looked at me.

“You need to open that safe and leave.”

“Not until you tell me what’s inside.”

“I don’t know.”

I laughed.

“Of course you don’t.”

“I don’t.”

“Everyone in my life is suddenly obsessed with a safe nobody knows anything about.”

“Your father never opened it in front of me.”

“But you know something is inside.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Because I helped him put it there.”

I stopped.

“What?”

“Not the contents. The safe.”

“When?”

“Eight years ago.”

A year before my father died.

“Why?”

“Because your father knew someone would eventually come looking.”

“Who?”

Martin’s eyes met mine.

“Conrad Vale.”

Lucian’s father.

The name felt strange.

I’d seen it online.

Conrad Vale.

Seventy-two.

Founder of Vale Holdings.

Retired.

A billionaire several times over.

There were photographs of him standing beside presidents.

Opening hospitals.

Donating millions to universities.

Smiling beside Lucian at business events.

He looked distinguished.

Respectable.

Nothing like the monster Lucian had described.

“Why would Conrad Vale come looking for something in my house?”

“Because your father stole from him.”

“Evidence.”

Martin nodded.

“Of what?”

“Everything.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one that matters.”

He walked toward the safe.

I moved between them.

“Everything what?”

“Fraud. Bribery. Offshore accounts. Politicians. Judges.”

“Murders?”

Martin went quiet.

My stomach turned.

“Murders?”

“Open the safe.”

“Was my father killed because of what’s inside?”

“Yes.”

The word hit hard even though I’d already suspected it.

I looked away.

My father.

Not falling asleep.

Not losing control.

Being hunted.

Because he’d tried to expose someone.

“Did Conrad order it?”

Martin didn’t answer.

“Did he?”

“I never heard the order.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I can’t tell you something I don’t know.”

“Lucian thinks Adrian did it.”

Martin laughed.

Not loudly.

Almost sadly.

“Lucian thinks many things about Adrian.”

“What does that mean?”

“That the brothers have spent most of their lives blaming each other for their father’s sins.”

“Did Adrian kill my father?”

“I don’t know.”

“Was he involved?”

“Yes.”

“Was Lucian?”

Martin looked at me.

The pause was too long.

My heart sank.

“Was Lucian involved?”

“Ask him.”

“I have.”

“And?”

“He says he was trying to help.”

Martin’s expression changed.

Not disbelief.

Something worse.

Pity.

I hated it immediately.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

He didn’t answer.

My anger flared.

“Tell me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because if Lucian hasn’t told you himself, it isn’t my place.”

I laughed.

“Suddenly everyone has ethics.”

A sound came from somewhere above us.

A floorboard.

Martin’s head snapped toward the hidden door.

“Is that Lucian?”

I whispered.

“Maybe.”

Martin crossed the room.

“Open the safe.”

“No.”

“Now.”

“Why?”

“Because if it’s him, we’re out of time.”

“You said you weren’t afraid of Lucian.”

“I’m not.”

Another sound.

Closer.

Martin looked at the door.

“I’m afraid of who might be with him.”

My pulse jumped.

“Who?”

“Open it.”

I turned toward the safe.

Six numbers.

My father’s voice echoed through my memory.

Again, Evie.

I entered the code.

For one terrible second, nothing happened.

My stomach dropped.

Had I remembered it wrong?

Then a soft beep broke the silence.

The lock clicked.

Martin exhaled.

I stared at the handle.

Seven years.

Whatever was behind that door had survived longer than my father.

My mother.

Almost everything I’d known about my family.

I reached for it.

Martin grabbed my wrist.

I spun around.

“What are you doing?”

“Wait.”

“You just spent ten minutes demanding I open it.”

“I heard something.”

We both went silent.

Footsteps.

Definitely.

Above us.

More than one person.

Then my phone vibrated inside my purse.

I pulled it out.

Lucian.

I answered immediately.

“Where are you?”

His voice was furious.

“In the basement.”

“I told you not to go down there.”

“And I told you I don’t take orders.”

“Get upstairs.”

“I’m a little busy.”

“Evelyn.”

“Martin Kessler is alive.”

Silence.

Complete silence.

“Lucian?”

His voice changed.

“Where is he?”

“Standing in front of me.”

Martin shook his head.

Don’t tell him.

Too late.

“Get away from him.”

“He says he knew my father.”

“Evelyn, listen to me.”

“Apparently he helped install the safe.”

Lucian swore.

I’d never heard him swear before.

For some reason, that frightened me more than yelling would have.

“Do not open it.”

I looked at the safe.

“Too late.”

“What?”

“I entered the combination.”

“Did you open the door?”

“Not yet.”

“Don’t.”

Martin stepped closer.

“Hang up.”

I moved away from him.

“No.”

Lucian heard.

“Is he touching you?”

“No.”

“Did he threaten you?”

“No.”

“Then move away from him and wait for me.”

“Where are you?”

“Upstairs.”

My heart jumped.

“What?”

A crash came from above.

Lucian shouted something away from the phone.

Then gunfire.

One shot.

Two.

Three.

I ducked instinctively.

Martin grabbed me and pulled me behind the metal chair.

“Get down!”

“What’s happening?”

“Stay down!”

Lucian’s voice came through the phone.

“Evelyn!”

“I’m here.”

“Lock the room.”

“I can’t. The door locks from outside.”

Another shot.

Closer.

Martin went pale.

“Who is up there?” I demanded.

He didn’t answer.

“Martin!”

“I don’t know.”

“You said you were afraid of whoever might come with Lucian.”

“Because I knew this could happen.”

“What could happen?”

Lucian shouted through the phone.

“Stay where you are.”

The call disconnected.

“Lucian?”

Nothing.

I called back.

No answer.

My heart hammered.

I stood.

Martin grabbed my arm.

“Don’t.”

“Let go of me.”

“You can’t go upstairs.”

“Lucian is up there.”

“Exactly.”

I ripped my arm away.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Martin looked at me.

“You still think he’s protecting you.”

“He is.”

“Is he?”

“Yes.”

The certainty of my answer surprised me.

Martin noticed.

“That’s dangerous.”

“Why?”

“Because Lucian Vale is most dangerous when he cares about something.”

“Stop talking in riddles.”

“I’m trying to keep you alive.”

“Then tell me who’s upstairs.”

“I don’t know.”

Another gunshot.

Then silence.

Long.

Terrible silence.

I looked at the safe.

The door remained unlocked.

“What’s inside?”

Martin shook his head.

“I told you.”

“You don’t know.”

“No.”

“Then we’re opening it.”

“Evelyn—”

“If someone is shooting people over whatever my father put in here, I’m done waiting.”

I grabbed the handle.

Pulled.

The safe opened.

Inside were three things.

A flash drive.

A sealed envelope.

And a small black notebook.

That’s it.

No stacks of documents.

No photographs.

No dramatic confession.

I reached inside.

Martin grabbed the flash drive.

“Hey!”

“We need to leave.”

“Give me that.”

“There’s another exit.”

“What?”

He moved toward the rear wall.

“Your father built one.”

“Of course he did.”

Martin pressed something beneath the safe.

A section of wall released.

Cold air rushed inside.

A tunnel.

I stared at it.

“Where does that go?”

“Neighboring property.”

“Why does my childhood home have an escape tunnel?”

“Because your father wasn’t nearly as boring as you thought.”

That hurt.

I took the notebook and envelope.

Martin shoved the flash drive into his pocket.

“Give me the drive.”

“I’ll give it back when we’re safe.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Then stay here and find out who’s shooting upstairs.”

I hesitated.

My phone rang.

Lucian.

I answered.

“Lucian?”

“I’m coming down.”

Relief hit me so hard my knees almost weakened.

“Are you okay?”

Silence.

“Lucian?”

“I’m fine.”

He didn’t sound fine.

“Who was shooting?”

“Security.”

“At who?”

“One of Adrian’s men.”

Martin’s expression changed.

“Ask him his name.”

I frowned.

“What?”

“Ask Lucian who the man was.”

“Why?”

“Ask him.”

Lucian heard.

“Don’t listen to Kessler.”

“Who was upstairs?”

“Evelyn.”

“Name.”

Silence.

I closed my eyes.

“Seriously?”

“Victor Hale.”

Martin went completely still.

The color drained from his face.

“No.”

I looked at him.

“You know him.”

Martin backed away.

“No.”

“Who is Victor Hale?”

Lucian’s voice came through the phone.

“Stay away from Kessler.”

“Why?”

“Because Martin knows exactly who Victor is.”

Martin looked terrified.

Not nervous.

Terrified.

“Martin?”

He shook his head.

“He can’t be here.”

“Who?”

“Victor.”

“Why?”

Martin stared at me.

“Because Victor Hale is dead.”

I almost laughed.

“Apparently that’s becoming a flexible concept in your social circle.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“He died eighteen years ago.”

My stomach tightened.

“Who was he?”

Martin looked toward the tunnel.

“We need to go.”

“Who was he?”

Footsteps sounded on the basement stairs.

Lucian.

I hoped.

Martin stepped backward.

“Your father knew him.”

“Everyone knew my father.”

“Not like Victor.”

“What does that mean?”

The basement door opened.

Lucian appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

Gun in his hand.

Blood on his shirt.

My heart stopped.

“Lucian.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“Not mine.”

He looked past me.

At Martin.

Everything about him changed.

I’d seen Lucian angry.

I’d seen him afraid.

I’d never seen this.

Hatred.

Pure and immediate.

“Kessler.”

Martin stared back.

“Lucian.”

“You have three seconds to step away from her.”

“I’m not hurting her.”

“Two.”

“Lucian.”

“One.”

I stepped between them.

“Stop.”

Lucian’s gun lowered instantly.

Not much.

Enough.

“Move, Evelyn.”

“No.”

“Evelyn.”

“We are not shooting anyone else in my mother’s basement.”

Martin almost laughed.

I turned.

“Not helping.”

His mouth closed.

Lucian’s eyes moved to the open safe.

Then to the notebook in my hand.

His face changed.

“What did you take?”

“Everything.”

“The drive?”

I looked at Martin.

Lucian followed my gaze.

His gun came back up.

“Give it to her.”

Martin slowly reached into his pocket.

He handed me the flash drive.

Lucian watched until it was in my hand.

Then his attention shifted to the envelope.

“What does it say?”

“I haven’t opened it.”

Lucian stared at it.

For some reason, that frightened me.

“You recognize it.”

“No.”

“You do.”

“I’ve never seen it.”

“But?”

His eyes moved to the handwriting on the front.

My name.

Evie.

Only one person had ever written my name like that.

My father.

My throat tightened.

I tore open the envelope.

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

Lucian moved closer.

Martin didn’t.

I unfolded it.

My father’s handwriting covered the page.

My hands began to shake.

Evie,

If you’re reading this, then I failed to keep you out of this.

I’m sorry.

I swallowed.

The words blurred.

I blinked until they cleared.

There are things about me you deserve to know. Things about the Vales. Things about your mother.

I stopped.

“My mother?”

Lucian went still.

Martin looked away.

I kept reading.

Do not trust Conrad Vale.

Do not trust Adrian Vale.

And whatever happens—

My heart pounded.

I looked at Lucian.

Then back at the letter.

Do not trust Lucian.

The room went silent.

Lucian stared at the paper.

I couldn’t breathe.

There was one final sentence.

I read it twice.

Then a third time.

“What does it say?” Lucian asked.

I looked at him.

My voice shook.

“My father says you killed him.”