Chapter 22

I didn’t reply to the message. I just stared at the screen, hands cold, the words replaying in my head like a warning.

“They lied about the DNA test. She is of Lachlan blood. But not in the way they think.” Not in the way they think? What did that even mean?

I looked down at the book again. George Lachlan’s private journal sat heavy on my lap, and everything inside me screamed that I wasn’t safe. Not in this house. Not with the Lachlans. Not even with Clara.

I closed the book slowly and locked it in the drawer. Then I locked the office door. If someone wanted to come after me, they’d have to break through it.

I needed to think. I needed space. I paced around the room, my mind spinning. Everyone believed the DNA test proved I wasn’t a Lachlan. Julian and his mother had probably popped champagne already. But if this message were true, then someone faked that result. Someone had something to hide. And they wanted me gone before I found out what it was.

I stepped closer to the fireplace, staring at the flames. My reflection danced in the glass screen—messy hair, dark circles under my eyes, and fear hiding behind a stubborn face.

What if George was never sorry for choosing me? What if this was exactly what he wanted? The knock came at the door. Sharp. Three times.

I turned. “Who is it?” No answer. I didn’t move. Another knock. Slower this time. I took a deep breath and unlocked the door. Marcus stood there, dressed in black, eyes colder than usual.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“I’m not in the mood,” I replied.

“Well, I wasn’t in the mood to be lied to either, but here we are.” He walked past me, straight into the room like he owned the place. I shut the door behind him.

“What’s this about now?” I asked.

He turned to face me. “Julian told us you were at the board meeting. That you sat in George’s chair.”

“I didn’t ask to be there,” I said. “I was summoned.”

“And you went,” Marcus replied, voice calm but sharp. “That alone makes you dangerous.”

I narrowed my eyes. “To who? Julian? Debra? Or you?”

Marcus tilted his head. “To the house. To the legacy. Don’t pretend like you don’t know how this works.”

“I don’t,” I said honestly. “I’m still figuring it out.”

His expression softened, barely. “Then figure it out fast. Because something’s about to break, Hailey. And when it does, you’ll either be on the right side of it… or buried under it.” I stepped toward him. “I found George’s notebook.” That got his attention.

“What notebook?”

“The one he kept hidden in the office. With names. Letters. Clues. My name is in it.”

Marcus didn’t speak. I added, “So is yours.”

He took a step back, as if someone had pushed him. “He left that for you?”

“No,” I said. “He left it hidden. I just found it.”

He stared at me for a long time, then finally said, “Whatever’s coming… that book is part of it. Keep it safe.”

“I will.”

Marcus turned to leave but paused at the door. “You’re not wrong to be afraid. But don’t let fear stop you from reading everything. Even the parts that hurt.”

Then he was gone. I stood there for a moment, the room too quiet, the fire too loud. I walked back to the drawer, pulled the book out again, and flipped to the last page. There was one final line, scrawled in darker ink, like it had been written later, maybe just before George died.

“Look where it all began. Not where you think.”

That was it. I stared at the words, my heart beating faster.

What beginning? What did he mean by “not where you think”?

The house creaked around me like it was holding its breath. Somewhere in this place, George had hidden the truth. And I was going to find it. Even if it destroyed everything. Even if it destroyed me.