They reached the chapel just before midnight.

Rain poured through the trees.

Lightning illuminated the mountain for a fraction of a second at a time.

The old building looked abandoned.

Its roof was broken.

Its wooden doors hung crooked.

But Samuel knew where to look.

“Behind the altar.”

Silas pushed the rotting wood aside.

A narrow staircase appeared beneath it.

Nora stared into the darkness.

“How long has this been here?”

“Longer than the chapel,” Samuel said.

They descended.

The air became colder.

The walls were carved directly into stone.

At the bottom stood an iron door.

Three symbols were carved into it.

Nora recognized the first.

The mountain.

The second was the same symbol from her pendant.

The third—

she had never seen before.

She touched it.

A memory suddenly returned.

Her grandfather’s voice.

Three numbers.

She whispered them.

Nothing happened.

Then she remembered another lesson.

Three numbers.

Then three letters.

She entered the sequence.

Click.

The door opened.

Everyone fell silent.

Behind it was a chamber.

Shelves covered the walls.

Boxes filled the floor.

Old deeds.

Ledgers.

Photographs.

Letters.

Records of nearly forty years of transactions.

Silas stared.

“This is everything.”

Daniel walked slowly into the room.

“No.”

He pointed toward the center.

“Not everything.”

A single black ledger sat on a stone table.

It was chained to the wall.

Nora approached.

Her name was written on the cover.

NORA WHITMORE.

She touched it.

Jonathan appeared behind them.

“Open it.”

Nora didn’t move.

“Why is my name on it?”

Jonathan said nothing.

Clara stepped forward.

“Because your grandfather knew the final decision would belong to you.”

Nora opened the cover.

The first pages contained names.

Payments.

Land transfers.

Threats.

But then she reached the final section.

Her expression changed.

“These aren’t transactions.”

Daniel moved closer.

“What is it?”

Nora read aloud.

“Witnesses.”

She turned the page.

Dozens of names.

Some crossed out.

Some marked dead.

Some marked missing.

Then she saw one name.

Samuel Whitmore.

She looked at him.

“Why is your name here?”

Samuel didn’t answer.

Nora continued reading.

Samuel Whitmore — presumed dead.

Transferred to the Vale organization.

Assigned to protect the surviving heir.

Nora’s eyes widened.

“You were assigned to protect me?”

Samuel nodded.

“By your grandfather.”

Jonathan laughed.

“Your brother wasn’t spying on me.”

Nora looked at him.

“He was working for you.”

Samuel shook his head.

“No.”

Jonathan’s smile faded.

“He was working for Thomas.”

Samuel stepped forward.

“Your father died believing I could keep you alive.”

Daniel looked at his son.

“I thought you were dead.”

“I had to let you.”

Nora closed her eyes.

All the lies suddenly made sense.

Not excuses.

Not forgiveness.

But reasons.

Then she turned the page.

Her hands stopped.

At the top was a name.

CLARA WHITMORE.

Beneath it:

Status — deceased.

Nora looked up.

Her mother was standing directly in front of her.

“You were declared dead.”

Clara nodded.

“To keep Jonathan from looking for me.”

Nora turned the page.

There was another name.

ELIZABETH WHITMORE.

Status — deceased.

Another.

DANIEL WHITMORE.

Status — deceased.

Nora looked at Jonathan.

“You falsified all of these.”

Jonathan’s expression was calm.

“No.”

Nora frowned.

“Then who did?”

Jonathan pointed toward the ledger.

“Your grandfather.”

Everyone froze.

“What?”

“He created the false deaths.”

Clara shook her head.

“Why?”

“To make sure no one could follow the family.”

Nora stared at the pages.

Then she reached the final entry.

Her own name.

NORA WHITMORE.

Status —

She stopped.

The word beneath it was written in red.

UNKNOWN.

Nora felt the room grow cold.

“What does that mean?”

Jonathan smiled.

“It means your grandfather never knew whether you would survive.”

Clara stepped forward.

“That isn’t the final page.”

Nora turned.

“What?”

Clara pointed toward the back cover.

“There’s something behind it.”

Nora ran her fingers along the leather.

A hidden compartment opened.

Inside was a small envelope.

Her name was written on it.

Not by Thomas.

By her mother.

Nora opened it.

One sentence.

If you are reading this, then Jonathan has found you.

Below it was another.

Do not trust the man who tells you the truth.

Nora looked up.

Everyone was silent.

She read the final line.

Especially if his truth makes you hate your own family.

Nora slowly turned toward Jonathan.

His expression had changed.

For the first time—

he looked afraid.

Then the chapel door slammed shut.

A heavy bolt dropped from the outside.

Someone had locked them in.

Silas ran toward it.

“It’s jammed.”

Samuel looked around.

“There’s another exit.”

Jonathan shook his head.

“No.”

Nora stared at him.

“You know this place.”

“Yes.”

“Then you know how to get out.”

Jonathan looked at the ledger.

Then at Nora.

“There is one way.”

“What?”

He pointed beneath the stone table.

“The mountain tunnel.”

Silas looked down.

“There?”

Jonathan nodded.

“But it collapsed twenty years ago.”

Nora’s eyes narrowed.

“Then how do you know?”

Jonathan looked at her.

“Because I was the one who sealed it.”

Thunder shook the mountain.

Stone dust fell from the ceiling.

Then came a sound from beneath them.

A deep cracking noise.

The floor moved.

Elizabeth screamed.

Nora grabbed Silas’s arm.

The chamber began to collapse.

And Jonathan suddenly shouted—

“RUN!”

For the first time, they were no longer enemies.

They were trapped together.

And the mountain was beginning to bury them alive.