His fiancée ordered the bleeding maid to continue scrubbing—until the billionaire followed the trail of blood on the marble floor and uncovered the truth hidden beneath his family’s vast fortune.

PART 6

Ten years earlier, Marcus had been a forensic accountant hired to review old Castellan subsidiaries. He found payments connecting Everett to Silas Sr.’s death and to the forged coastal deeds. Wren discovered him copying records. Instead of going to police, she arranged a false warehouse fire and moved Marcus to a safe property in Maine, intending to keep him hidden until she could dismantle Everett’s network.

“You let me bury him,” Priya said.

“Everett had people watching you. If you knew, he would have followed you.”

“How long was Marcus supposed to remain dead?”

“Weeks. Everett found the safe house after nine days. He took Marcus and threatened to kill him if I exposed anything. I paid, lied, and searched through private channels. Every compromise made the next one easier.”

Priya could barely contain her fury. “Protection without consent is a prison.”

“I know that now.”

“He lost ten years because you decided the truth was too expensive.”

The lights flickered again. Eight minutes.

Weston took out his phone. “The emergency network is still active. I can photograph the pages and transmit them to federal investigators, state police, and every family named here.”

Wren blocked the ledger. “If you release it without preparation, Castellan Holdings will collapse by morning.”

“Then it collapses.”

“Thirty thousand people work for us.”

“And how many families paid for those jobs with stolen homes?”

“You cannot repair one injustice by creating thousands more.”

Priya lifted the deed. “We are not choosing collapse. Everett is. He built a plan around your fear that the Castellan name mattered more than the truth.”

Weston met his mother’s eyes. “We release everything, petition the court for supervised restructuring, protect wages and pensions first, and surrender every disputed property. If the company survives honestly, it survives. If it cannot, it never belonged to us.”

Wren slowly lowered her hand.

They began photographing pages.

At six minutes, the yacht feed returned. Everett stood behind Marcus with a gun.

“Bring the red ledger to the south dock,” he said. “Now.”

“The evidence is being transmitted,” Weston replied.

Everett’s confidence faltered.

Odalys stepped into view wearing a black raincoat over her rehearsal gown. “Weston, stop. We can still fix this.”

He stared at the woman he had intended to marry the next day. “Was any of it real?”

Her lips trembled, and for a heartbeat Priya saw not a monster but a frightened daughter raised to mistake control for security.

“I loved the life we would have had.”

“That is not what I asked.”

Odalys looked away.

Everett shoved Marcus’s chair toward the edge of the deck. “Five minutes.”

Silas Jr. had managed to loosen one wrist. He kept his hand hidden beside the helm.

Priya leaned closer to the screen. “He is stalling.”

“For what?” Wren asked.

“For us.”

Bram’s voice came through Weston’s phone. “Guests are outside the north gate. The cellar doors are wired to the ignition circuit. Cutting them may trigger it.”

Weston looked toward the service passage. “There is an old water tunnel from the cellar to the cliff.”

“Sealed in 1998,” Wren said.

“Not completely,” Priya replied. “A drainage contractor opened it last winter. It reaches the lower boathouse.”

Weston gathered the red ledger and deed into a waterproof document case. “We go through the tunnel, reach the launch, and approach from beneath the south cliffs. Bram keeps uploading.”

Wren said, “You cannot take the ledger to Everett.”

“We are taking the only leverage that might keep Marcus and Silas Jr. alive.”

Priya tucked the case under her uninjured arm.

Weston shook his head. “You stay here.”

“You do not know the tunnel. You also do not know my brother. When he sees me, he will move even if he believes he cannot.”

“Your hand—”

“Will hurt whether I am waiting or helping.”

Wren picked up a flashlight. “I know the manual shutoff for the cellar ignition.”

Weston gave a humorless laugh. “And I am supposed to trust you now?”

“No. You are supposed to watch me.”