Adrian stared.

“Who sent it?”

“The number was prepaid.”

“You think Marcus?”

“We don’t know.”

“Clara had just told Vanessa she found the pills.”

“Yes.”

“Then someone ordered Vanessa to silence Clara.”

“Possibly.”

Adrian stood.

“Where is Marcus?”

Bell’s expression told him before she answered.

“Gone.”

Marcus Vale had disappeared twenty minutes after Vanessa’s arrest.

His car was found at the airport.

He had not boarded a plane.

His accounts had been emptied.

And inside his penthouse, investigators found something far worse.

Photographs.

Hundreds of them.

Adrian’s home.

Olivia’s school.

Emma’s neonatal ward.

Evelyn leaving medical appointments.

Clara buying groceries.

Every photograph meticulously dated.

This had not begun with Vanessa.

It had begun years earlier.

Then the police found Marcus’s safe.

Inside was a handwritten letter addressed to Adrian.

Adrian read it with Detective Bell beside him.

You will believe this is about money.

It never was.

Ask your mother what happened on October 18, 1987.

Adrian read the sentence twice.

“My mother?”

Bell frowned.

“Is she alive?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Connecticut.”

Adrian had spoken to his mother, Margaret Mercer, twice in the last year.

They had never been close.

Margaret lived quietly on the estate Adrian’s father had left her.

She had adored Evelyn.

She had refused to attend Adrian’s engagement dinner to Vanessa.

At the time, Adrian assumed she thought he had moved on too quickly.

Now he called her.

She answered on the second ring.

“Adrian?”

“What happened October eighteenth, 1987?”

Silence.

“Mom?”

When Margaret finally spoke, her voice sounded twenty years older.

“Who told you that date?”

“Marcus.”

A sharp breath.

“Where are you?”

“At the police station.”

“Is Olivia with you?”

“No.”

“Emma?”

“Safe.”

Margaret began crying.

“Mom.”

“You need to come here.”

“Tell me now.”

“I can’t.”

“Vanessa nearly killed Emma. Evelyn may have been murdered. Marcus disappeared and left me your name.”

Margaret sobbed.

Then said four words Adrian would remember for the rest of his life.

“Marcus is your father.”

Adrian drove to Connecticut with Detective Bell.

Margaret was waiting in the library.

She looked small inside the enormous room.

A framed photograph of Adrian’s father—Richard Mercer, the man who had raised him—stood on the mantel.

Adrian remained standing.

“You have five minutes.”

Margaret wiped her face.

“When I was twenty-three, your father and Marcus were best friends.”

“Richard wasn’t my father?”

“He was your father in every way that mattered.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“No.”

Adrian turned away.

Margaret continued.

“Marcus and I had one night together. One mistake. Richard learned the truth after you were born.”

“And he stayed?”

“He loved you.”

“Did Marcus know?”

“Yes.”

“Did Evelyn?”

Margaret shook her head.

“Not from me.”

Detective Bell asked, “Why would Marcus target Adrian’s family?”

Margaret looked at her son.

“Because Richard changed his will.”

Adrian frowned.

“The trust?”

“Richard knew Marcus believed you should inherit everything without restrictions because you were his biological son. But Richard had begun to suspect Marcus was obsessed with controlling you.”

“So he created the family trust.”

Margaret nodded.

“And made Evelyn co-controller once Adrian married.”

Adrian understood.

“Marcus couldn’t access the principal without Evelyn.”

“Not legally.”

The room went cold.

“So he poisoned her.”

Margaret covered her mouth.

“I never knew.”

“He killed my wife because she stood between him and money?”