Chapter 8

• Sienna didn’t move.
• Her hand stayed on the doorknob, but her feet were planted firmly just inside the threshold, staring at the faint trail of footprints that stopped a few feet into the room.
• They were fresh, still sharp. No dust had settled over them. And they didn’t look like hers. Bigger, wider. Maybe a man’s.
• She didn’t call out.
• She didn’t want to.
• She took one small step forward, quietly pushing the door shut behind her. It smelled like old wood and colder air, like something sealed tight for too long.
• Her eyes scanned the living room. The old plaid couch was still there, the faded green rug, and the bookshelf that leaned too far left. Everything looked untouched… except for those prints.
• She followed them.
• They led past the coffee table, past the stone fireplace, and stopped at the edge of the hallway that led to the two bedrooms and the back porch.
• Sienna’s fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.
• The air was too still.
• She stepped carefully down the hallway, slow and quiet. One foot after the other. The wooden floor didn’t creak, not yet.
• When she reached the first bedroom, she paused. The door was cracked open.
• She pushed it wider.
• Empty.
• The bed was neatly made, the sheets undisturbed. She backed out carefully.
• Then moved to the second room.
• Also empty.
• But the window was open.
• She stepped closer, heart racing. Looked outside.
• Nothing, no one.
• “Fuck.”
• The person was already gone.
• But they had been there.
• And they’d been looking for something.
• Sienna turned quickly, walking back down the hallway. Her boots made dull sounds against the old wood floor. She went straight to the fireplace.
• She dropped to her knees, pulled the fire grate aside, and ran her fingers along the bottom of the stone backing.
• There.
• A small metal latch.
• She yanked it.
• A hollow pop echoed behind the wall, and the entire left side of the fireplace swung forward, revealing a narrow cubby hidden between the stones.
• Inside was a thick black book.
• Worn, dusty, and leather-bound.
• Sienna reached for it with both hands.
• The ledger.
• It felt heavier than it looked. Like it carried weight beyond the pages. She sat back on the floor, her knees tucked under her as she flipped open the cover.
• No title, no names.
• Just rows of numbers, columns, and transactions... Company codes she didn’t recognize. And at the bottom of each page, initials.
• E.L.
• Her chest went tight.
• Edward Langston.
• Adrian’s father’s former partner. The one who’d “cut ties” years ago. The one who left with nothing… or so they said.
• There were pages and pages of it. Accounts that didn’t exist. Transfers that bypassed normal systems.
• The deeper she flipped, the more her head spun.
• And then—halfway through—her own last name appeared.
• Hale Industries.
• Right there. In bold ink. Written next to one of the transfers.
• And then again.
• And again.
• Her father’s company.
• But it didn’t make sense. The transfers were dated months before the collapse. Months before the investigation. Back when everything was still “fine.”
• The records were clear.
• Hale Industries had been framed.
• She read until her eyes hurt. Until the lines started to blur.
• She hadn’t eaten; she hadn’t spoken to anyone.
• Hadn’t called Adrian.
• She didn’t want to.
• The things in this book… they weren’t just proof. They were at war. Every page was another weapon. Another nail in someone’s coffin.
• And she had it all.
• She closed the ledger gently, resting her hand on the cover.
• The cabin had gone quiet again.
• She stood up, stretched her legs, and walked into the small kitchen to get a glass of water.
• And that’s when she saw the folded paper taped to the fridge.
• It hadn’t been there when she arrived.
• She pulled it off slowly. Opened it.
• Just five words.
• “You’re not the only one.”
• Her breath caught.
• No signature. No initials. No fucking clue who had written it.
• She stepped back, her eyes darting around the cabin. Nothing moved. The window was still open, but no sound came through.
• Who had left this?
• Who else knew she was here?
• She grabbed her phone.
• Still no signal.
• She pulled out the satellite device Adrian had given her and turned it on.
• No missed messages or alerts.
• She hesitated. Then dialed his number.
• It rang once.
• Then again.
• On the third ring, his voice answered. Tired and cold.
• “I told you to call only if it was urgent.”
• “I found the ledger,” Sienna said, skipping the greetings.
• Silence.
• Then: “Good.”
• “Someone was here before me.”
• “I know.”
• That stopped her.
• “What?”
• “There was a car parked near the lake an hour before you arrived. I had someone watching.”
• Her stomach twisted. “And you didn’t say anything?”
• “I needed to know what they were after.”
• “And if they were still inside? What then?”
• “You were never in danger.”
• “You didn’t know that.”
• A pause.
• “No,” Adrian said quietly. “I didn’t.”
• Sienna closed her eyes. Her hands were shaking again.
• “I found entries with Edward’s initials,” she said. “And my family’s company. Multiple ones.”
• “I assumed as much.”
• “There’s a note here, Adrian.”
• “From whom?”
• She looked at the paper again. “No name. Just a message. It says I’m not the only one.”
• A long silence followed.
• Then Adrian said, “I’m sending a car. You’re coming back.”
• Sienna opened her mouth—but he’d already hung up.
• The drive back felt longer.
• She stared out the window, the ledger clutched tight in her lap, the note folded in her pocket. Her thoughts spun. Every time she blinked, she saw the words again.
• You’re not the only one.
• Then who was it?
• Who else knew what Edward had done? Who else had kept records?
• Or worse—who else wanted to bury them?
• When the car pulled up outside the penthouse building, Sienna didn’t wait for the driver to open her door. She got out quickly and walked straight inside.
• As she stepped into the hallway, the door to the penthouse was already open.
• Adrian stood there, leaning against the frame.
• He didn’t speak.
• Neither did she.
• She walked past him, straight to the dining table, and slammed the ledger down on the surface.
• He picked it up carefully and opened it.
• His face didn’t change.
• Not at first.
• But the longer he flipped through the pages, the darker his expression got. His jaw tensed. His fingers curled tighter around the spine of the book.
• Then he closed it.
• “This changes everything,” he said quietly.
• Sienna watched him. “You’re going to use it?”
• “Yes.”
• “Against him?”
• Adrian looked at her. “Against all of them.”
• She stepped back.
• “Wait—there’s more than one?”
• Adrian didn’t answer.
• “Sienna,” he said instead, voice low. “There’s something you should know.”
• He reached into his jacket. Pulled out a sealed manila envelope.
• “I wasn’t going to show you this yet.”
• “What is it?”
• He handed it to her.
• “Open it.”
• She did.
• Inside were photographs.
• Old ones.
• Grainy. Surveillance-style.
• One of them showed her father in a meeting with a man she didn’t recognize.
• Another showed Edward Langston.
• And another—
• Her hand trembled. It was her.
• At fifteen.
• Sitting outside a school gate.
• And behind her, half-hidden in a black car, was Adrian.
• She looked up at him, eyes wide. “You were watching me.”
• He didn’t deny it.
• “Why?”
• His voice was quiet.
• “Because your father asked me to.”
• Her heart stopped.
• “What?”
• Adrian met her gaze without blinking. “He didn’t trust anyone else.”
• Sienna stared at the photo again, her hands going cold. If Adrian had been watching her for years… then what else had he never told her?