All Chapters of : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

VOSS ESTATE The lake lay black and endless beyond the tall windows, a sheet of quiet that mirrored the night sky.Amara Voss—once Elara, always mother—sat at a mahogany desk facing that darkness, a single lamp haloing her in warm light.The house slept around her: guards at their stations, cameras humming, Kaylee’s precise footsteps faded into silence hours ago.Only the scratch of her fountain pen broke the hush.Each night she wrote to Milo.Not emails—never something that could be hacked or forwarded—but letters on heavy cream paper, the kind that smelled faintly of linen and rain.She wrote as though the boy still breathed, as though his laughter still ricocheted through mountain air instead of echoing inside her skull.Tonight the ink bled darker than usual, a storm pressed into script.~ My son,The world thinks you’re gone.They don’t know that every breath I take is for you.Tonight I walked into the serpent’s den.Sienna smiled with the same mouth that cursed you, but her ey

The Midtown skyline glittered like a field of cold stars as Amara Voss stepped from the black town car. Wind coiled around the hem of her sable coat, carrying the metallic scent of the East River and the faint throb of late-night traffic.Kaylee moved beside her, clipboard tucked under one arm, every line of her posture whispering bodyguard in disguise. Amara had become fond of the girl. She was only a few years older than her but she looked like her like she hung up stars, with some kind of admiration that Amara didn't see herself worthy of.Inside the converted armory the air shimmered with money and expectation. Chandeliers the size of small planets spilled light across marble floors. The night’s prize was the Hudson Apex Development—a twenty-acre stretch of derelict waterfront slated to become the city’s next billion-dollar jewel.A hundred investors circled like sharks in designer suits. Cameras flashed. Champagne hissed. Amara felt every gaze slide toward her like a test blade.

VOSS ESTATE Morning seeped into the room like a rumor—gray, watchful and cold.Amara woke, her mind replaying last night’s auction like a film she refused to pause. The anonymous note still pulsed against her ribs. Get along just fine.Kaylee was already at the breakfast table, laptop open, hair pulled into a knife-sharp bun. Two mugs of coffee steamed between them.“Found something,” Kaylee said without preamble. “On the lawyer who managed the Monroe family trust back when they passed.”Amara straightened. “The one who helped them?”She didn't have any emotional attachment to her parents, she didn't even know them before their death, she wasn't affected when they were brought up.“Name’s Roderick Vale. Partner at Dempsey & Co.” Kaylee rotated the screen. “Divorce filings sealed, gambling debts quieted by payouts. And—” she tapped another tab—“an offshore account linked to Cade Development. Cayman Islands.”“Bought,” Amara murmured.“Rented. He still practices. Still travels to Genev

CADE ESTATE Los Angeles shimmered under a thin winter moon, the city’s restless hum carried uphill to the Voss estate like a warning. Amara stood at the tall windows of her study, phone dark in her palm, the scent of the ocean pushing through the open doors. Kaylee sat behind her at the desk, every line of her body coiled with energy. “They’ll tear each other apart before midnight,” Kaylee said, eyes on the string of code she’d just loosed into the world. On the monitor, a handful of private financial files flickered in encrypted bloom. Each document pointed at Roderick Vale—and at Ethan Cade—names buried together in offshore ledgers and sealed amendments that only Ethan was supposed to know existed. Amara’s mouth curved, not quite a smile. “And you seeded it clean?” “Like smoke,” Kaylee replied. “No fingerprints. Vale will recognize the files. Ethan will recognize the details. Both will wonder which one of them bled first.” “Good,” Amara murmured. “Let them wonder.” Her phone

VOSS ESTATE Rain had carved the night into trembling streaks, each one gliding down the glass like it wanted in. The thunder finally rolled past, leaving behind a quiet thick enough to hear the house breathe. Kaylee stood there, pale from the glow of the screen, her fingers tight around the laptop like it was the only thing anchoring her to the room. Amara’s voice sliced through the dark again — low, steady, and edged with a kind of control that only existed when something inside her was burning. > “Who, Kaylee?” A beat. Kaylee’s throat moved. “His name is Daniel.” The name landed like a slow drop of acid. Amara blinked once. The sound of the ocean below seemed to dim, the waves caught mid-crash. “Daniel,” she repeated — quiet, disbelieving. “Daniel who?” “Just Daniel,” Kaylee said, her voice flat. “No last name. No traceable identity. Just the Nevada registration and a string of scrambled communications tied to Cade systems. He’s good — really good. I almost didn’t catch it