The Smith estate was a labyrinth of secrets, its marble corridors echoing with the ghosts of choices made in the dark. Lucy Maureen stood frozen in the hidden passage where Adam had pulled her after the explosion, her heart hammering against her ribs. The air was thick with dust, the faint scent of gunpowder lingering from the Volkov attack that had shaken the mansion moments ago. Adam's hand still gripped hers, his touch a steady anchor in the chaos, but his words about his father, Victor, sent a chill down her spine. The locket in her other hand—her mother's, somehow in Isabel's possession—burned against her palm, a tangible link to a past she didn't understand.
"Move, Lucy," Adam urged, his voice low and urgent, his dark eyes scanning the dimly lit tunnel. His black shirt was streaked with dirt, the snake tattoo on his forearm glinting in the faint light of an emergency bulb. "We're not safe yet."
Lucy yanked her hand free, her brown eyes blazing with defiance. "Not until you tell me what's going on. You said Victor's waiting for us. What does he know about my parents? About this?" She held up the locket, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination. Her psychology training screamed at her to read him—his tense jaw, the flicker of guilt in his gaze—but her heart was too tangled in his intensity, his protectiveness, to stay objective.
Adam's expression hardened, but his voice softened. "I don't know everything, Lucy. But Victor was part of the deal that got your parents killed. He's… complicated. And right now, he's our only way out of this tunnel." He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "You want answers? So do I. But we need to keep moving."
Lucy's chest tightened, her mind racing. Victor, the man who'd ordered Adam to kill Isabel, was tied to her parents' murder? The weight of it threatened to crush her, but she refused to crumble. She was done being a pawn in someone else's game. "Fine," she said, her voice steady despite the storm inside. "But I'm not just following you blindly, Adam. I'm part of this now."
A flicker of respect crossed his face, followed by a reluctant smile. "Noted, psychology girl. Just don't do anything reckless." He turned, leading her deeper into the passage, his steps purposeful but cautious.
The tunnel was narrow, its stone walls damp and cool, lined with flickering lights that cast eerie shadows. Lucy's sneakers squeaked softly, her blue dress catching on rough edges as she followed. The locket was now tucked into her pocket, its butterfly engraving a mystery she was determined to unravel. Her parents, Thomas and Eliza, had been more than they seemed—tied to the mafia, to Isabel, to this dangerous world. And Victor held the key.
As they moved, Lucy's mind worked overtime, piecing together the fragments. Her psychology training urged her to look for patterns, to question motives. Adam's protectiveness wasn't just duty—it was personal, tied to his guilt over Isabel. But why did he care so much about her, a stranger who looked like his lost love? And why did the Volkovs think she held Isabel's secrets? The questions fueled her, pushing back the fear.
The passage ended at another steel door, and Adam paused, his hand on the keypad. "Victor's on the other side," he said, his voice low. "He's not like me, Lucy. He doesn't bend. Whatever he says, don't let him get in your head."
Lucy nodded, her pulse racing. "I'm not afraid of him," she lied, squaring her shoulders. She'd faced loss before—her parents, Bob's betrayal—and she'd survived. She could handle a mafia patriarch.
Adam punched in the code, and the door slid open, revealing a dimly lit office. Victor Smith stood behind a mahogany desk, his silver hair gleaming under a chandelier, his suit pristine despite the chaos outside. His eyes, cold and calculating, locked on Lucy, and she felt like a specimen under a microscope.
"Miss Maureen," Victor said, his voice smooth as ice. "You've caused quite a stir." He gestured to a leather chair. "Sit. We have much to discuss."
Lucy stayed standing, her chin lifted. "I'm not here for pleasantries. You knew my parents. You were part of the deal that got them killed. Start talking."
Victor's lips twitched, a hint of amusement in his steely gaze. "Bold. I see why my son is so taken with you." He glanced at Adam, who stood rigid beside her, his jaw tight. "But boldness won't keep you alive. The Volkovs want you, and I need to know why."
Adam stepped forward, his voice sharp. "Enough games, Father. Tell her what you told me—about Thomas, about the ledger."
Victor's eyes narrowed, but he leaned back, steepling his fingers. "Very well. Your father, Thomas, was more than an accountant. He was our intermediary with the Volkovs, managing a joint operation to funnel money through offshore accounts. But he got greedy—or scared. He kept a ledger, a record of every transaction, every player. When he threatened to expose it, the Volkovs eliminated him. And your mother."
Lucy's breath caught, her hands clenching. "You're saying my dad was a traitor? That's why they died?" Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to break in front of Victor.
"Not a traitor," Victor said, his tone measured. "A man caught in a war he didn't understand. The ledger was his insurance, but he hid it before he died. Isabel found it—or part of it. And now, the Volkovs think you have it."
Lucy's mind reeled, the locket in her pocket feeling heavier. "I don't have any ledger," she said, her voice shaking. "I was a kid when they died. Why would they think I know anything?"
Victor's gaze sharpened. "Because of that." He nodded toward her pocket, where the locket's outline was visible. "Isabel wore it, said it was a gift from someone she trusted. If it's yours, it's no coincidence. It's a clue."
Adam's eyes widened, and he turned to Lucy. "You didn't tell me it was your mother's."
"I didn't know it was important," she snapped, pulling out the locket. She opened it, the tiny photo of her childhood self with her parents staring back. "This was my mom's. My dad gave it to her before I was born. How did Isabel get it?"
Victor's expression darkened. "That's what we need to find out. If the ledger is tied to that locket, it could destroy the Volkovs—and us. We need to find it before they do."
Lucy's heart pounded, anger surging. "You're using me," she said, her voice rising. "Just like you used my parents. Like you used Isabel." She turned to Adam, her eyes blazing. "And you're letting him."
Adam flinched, his voice low. "I'm not, Lucy. I brought you here to keep you safe, not to use you. I swear it."
She wanted to believe him, but doubt gnawed at her. Her psychology instincts kicked in, reading the tension between father and son—Victor's cold control, Adam's barely restrained anger. There was a rift here, one she could use. "Then prove it," she said, stepping closer to Adam, her voice a challenge. "Help me find the truth, not just your father's version of it."
Adam's eyes softened, a flicker of something warm—something dangerous—passing through them. "I will," he said quietly. "But you need to stay alive to get those answers."
Victor interrupted, his voice cutting. "Enough sentiment. Lucy, you'll stay here under guard until we sort this out. Adam, assign Marco to her. And find that ledger."
Lucy's defiance flared. "I'm not your prisoner," she snapped, but Victor's cold smile silenced her.
"You're whatever I need you to be to keep this empire standing," he said. "Don't test me, girl."
Adam's hand grazed her arm, a silent reassurance, and he led her out before she could argue further. In the hallway, Marco waited, his kind smile a stark contrast to the tension. "You okay, miss?" he asked, his gruff voice gentle.
"No," Lucy admitted, her voice breaking. "But I'm not giving up."
Adam's gaze lingered on her, a mix of admiration and worry. "You don't have to do this alone," he said, his voice low. "I'm with you, Lucy. Whether you trust me or not."
Her heart skipped, caught in the push and pull of his words. She wanted to push him away, to protect herself, but his sincerity, his scars, drew her in. "We'll see," she said, her voice softer now, a small concession.
Lucy was escorted to her room, Marco trailing behind like a shadow. The opulence of the guest suite felt stifling now, the silk curtains and chandelier mocking her captivity. She sank onto the bed, the locket in her hand, her mind racing. Victor's words echoed—her father, a man she'd loved, had been tangled in this world. And the locket, her mother's keepsake, was a clue to a ledger that could end this war—or start a new one.
Determined to take control, Lucy began exploring the room, her psychology training guiding her to look for patterns, for hidden truths. She checked the drawers, the wardrobe, even the seams of the curtains, searching for anything out of place. Under the bed, her fingers brushed a loose floorboard. Her pulse quickened as she pried it up, revealing a small, dusty box. Inside was a single letter, its paper yellowed, in Isabel's handwriting.
Her hands trembled as she read:
"T, if you're reading this, I've failed. The ledger is safe, but not for long. They know about her—your butterfly. Protect her, or everything we did was for nothing. - I."
Lucy's breath caught. "Butterfly." Her mother's nickname for her, whispered in bedtime stories. Isabel had known her, had been protecting her. But why? And how was the locket tied to this ledger? She tucked the letter into her pocket, her resolve hardening. She wasn't just a victim—she was a key, and she'd unlock this herself.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. "Lucy, it's Lena," came a voice, bright but cautious. The pink-haired hacker slipped inside, her laptop under her arm. "Adam sent me to check on you. Also, I found something."
Lucy's eyes narrowed, her trust thin. "What?"
Lena grinned, unfazed. "Your dad's last known location before the crash— a safehouse in Tokyo. I cross-referenced it with Isabel's letters. It's a match. Want to check it out?"
Lucy's heart raced. This was her chance to act, not just react. "Yes. But not with Adam. He's too… complicated." She hesitated, then added, "Can you keep this quiet?"
Lena's grin widened. "I like you, psychology girl. Deal. But we need to move fast—Volkovs are sniffing around that address."
Lucy nodded, adrenaline surging. She wasn't just following Adam's rules anymore. She was taking charge, even if it meant sneaking out under his nose. But as she followed Lena to a side exit, a guard's shout echoed through the estate, followed by the unmistakable sound of shattering glass.
"Intruders!" Marco's voice boomed from the hallway. Lucy froze, her eyes meeting Lena's. The Volkovs were back, and this time, they weren't retreating.
Lena grabbed her arm, pulling her toward a hidden stairwell. "Move, now!" she hissed. But as they descended, a figure loomed at the bottom—tall, shadowed, holding a gun. Not a Volkov. It was Victor, his cold eyes glinting with something darker than before.
"Going somewhere, Miss Maureen?" he asked, his voice a low threat. "I warned you not to test me."
Lucy's heart pounded, the letter and locket burning in her pocket. Victor wasn't just protecting his empire—he was hiding something, something tied to her parents, to Isabel, to her. And as Adam's footsteps echoed behind her, she realized she was trapped between father and son, with a truth that could destroy them all.