Chapter 8 - THE NIGHT EVERYTHING BURNED
I watched my childhood home burn on a phone screen.
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
Then anger replaced shock.
“He has the codex.”
James nodded.
“How?”
“I left it in my estate safe.”
“So he got into your house?”
James was already calling his security chief.
“Check the estate.”
The answer came quickly.
No breach.
The codex in James's safe was still there.
I stared.
“Then what's Mercer holding?”
“A copy.”
Grandma tapped weakly on the hospital window.
We entered.
She had seen the footage.
“Fake,” she whispered.
“You knew?”
She nodded.
“Two.”
Two codices.
James understood first.
“One real. One decoy.”
Grandma pointed at me.
“Your…book.”
“The one from the auction?”
She shook her head.
“Fake.”
I almost laughed.
I had broken into a mafia auction, nearly been shot, kidnapped indirectly, discovered my secret father, and uncovered a criminal conspiracy over a fake medieval book.
James actually did laugh.
I stared at him.
“Are you enjoying this?”
“Not remotely.”
“You're laughing.”
“Because if I don't, I'm going to start shooting furniture.”
Grandma smiled.
I loved her for that.
“Where's the real one?” I asked.
She pointed toward herself.
“You?”
Another nod.
Then she touched her chest.
Necklace.
I remembered.
Grandma always wore a small gold cross.
The hospital had stored her jewelry.
I retrieved it.
Behind the cross was a tiny key.
James stared.
“Your family enjoys keys.”
“We're old-fashioned.”
Grandma wrote an address.
A storage facility outside Boston.
Unit 118.
Inside, we found a plain wooden trunk.
The real Blackwell Codex lay beneath blankets.
No gold.
No dramatic display.
Just a book.
I opened the hidden compartment.
The missing pages were there.
So was a letter from my father.
My Evelyn,
I couldn't breathe.
James moved away, giving me privacy.
I read.
Daniel Thornton had known he might die.
He admitted helping Mercer hide money during the early years.
He admitted being afraid.
Then he described discovering Mercer's plan to kill Thomas, steal the criminal accounts, and blame Sullivan.
Daniel tried to stop him.
He failed.
His final request was simple.
Do not inherit my sins simply because you inherit my blood.
I cried.
Quietly at first.
Then not quietly.
James sat beside me.
He didn't tell me to stop.
Didn't tell me everything would be fine.
He simply stayed.
Eventually, I leaned against him.
“My father was a criminal.”
“So was mine.”
“That doesn't bother you?”
“Your father is not you.”
I looked up.
“Neither is yours.”
Something in James's face softened.
We found the account information.
But Daniel had altered it.
The fortune wasn't accessible through a password.
It had been converted decades earlier into a trust.
A legitimate trust.
Its beneficiary:
The Blackwell Foundation for Missing and Exploited Persons.
I stared.
“My father gave it away.”
James read the documents.
“Not all of it.”
“How much?”
“Approximately eighty-six million dollars.”
I nearly dropped the page.
“And Mercer thinks he can take it.”
“He can't.”
“Then why is he still chasing me?”
James found another page.
His face darkened.
“What?”
“The trust can be dissolved.”
“By whom?”
“The sole surviving direct beneficiary.”
Me.
Mercer didn't need a password.
He needed my signature.
James immediately increased security.
But Mercer had anticipated us.
My phone rang.
This time the caller ID showed my cousin Rachel.
I answered.
“Rachel?”
Crying.
“Evelyn, I'm sorry.”
My blood froze.
“Where are you?”
“Mercer told us it was just about the estate. He said Grandma cheated us.”
“What did you do?”
“I gave him the hospital information.”
I closed my eyes.
James heard.
He signaled his men.
Rachel sobbed.
“He has my daughter.”
My anger disappeared.
Rachel had a six-year-old named Lily.
“What?”
“He says he'll kill her unless you meet him.”
“Where?”
“The docks.”
James shook his head.
“No.”
I turned away.
“Send me the location.”
“Evelyn—”
“Send it.”
Rachel did.
Pier 19.
James took my phone.
“You are not going.”
“A child is involved.”
“That's exactly why you're not going.”
“You said you cared about me.”
His jaw tightened.
“Don't use that.”
“Then understand me.”
“I understand perfectly. You're willing to walk into a trap.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“If it were me, would you go?”
Silence.
“If Mercer had me, would you go?”
James didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
“Then don't ask me to be less courageous than you.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
“I hate when you're right.”
“You must hate me constantly.”
“It's becoming exhausting.”
We planned carefully.
I would meet Mercer.
James would stay hidden.
Federal agents—contacted through evidence from the chamber—would surround the docks.
At midnight, I walked alone toward Pier 19.
Mercer waited beside a shipping container.
Lily sat inside a car.
Alive.
Terrified.
“Let her go.”
Mercer smiled.
“Sign first.”
He handed me documents.
Trust dissolution.
Transfer authorization.
I took the pen.
“Evelyn.”
James's voice came through the tiny earpiece.
“Wait.”
Mercer noticed.
His smile vanished.
He grabbed me.
The gun pressed beneath my jaw.
“Thornton!”
James emerged from the shadows.
Weapon raised.
Mercer dragged me backward.
“Drop it.”
James did.
“Kick it away.”
He obeyed.
Mercer smiled.
“You really do love her.”
James looked directly at me.
“Yes.”
The word hit harder than fear.
Mercer pushed me into the car beside Lily.
Then fired at James.
I screamed.
James fell.
Mercer slammed the door.
The car accelerated.
I twisted around.
James lay motionless on the dock.
Blood beneath him.
And for the first time since this nightmare began, I forgot about the codex.
The money.
The inheritance.
May you like
Everything.
Because the man I loved wasn't moving.
