Elara's POV
I'm breaking into my own café at three in the morning because Cain's "dead" grandmother just threatened to kill us both.
"This is insane," Sage whispers, keeping watch by the door. "You should be at the hospital with Cain."
"He's sedated until morning. And if Victoria knows about the café—" I pry at the loose floorboard in the storage room, the one that's been squeaking for months. "My grandmother's journals. She said she hid something important here. Something that would protect me."
"Your grandmother's been dead for three years."
"And apparently Cain's grandmother has been 'dead' for ten but somehow just called me." The floorboard comes up. "Nothing's impossible anymore."
Underneath is a metal box, rusted but intact.
My hands shake as I pull it out.
Inside: three leather journals, yellowed with age, and a thick envelope labeled "FOR ELARA - OPEN WHEN THEY COME FOR YOU."
They came for me. Time to open it.
The envelope contains documents—birth certificates, marriage licenses, legal papers I don't understand.
And a letter in my grandmother's elegant handwriting.
My dearest Elara,
If you're reading this, I'm gone, and they've started hunting you. I'm so sorry, my darling. I should have been stronger. Should have stopped them years ago.
The truth: Your mother and father were legally married when you were born. I have the certificate. Patricia's marriage to Richard came AFTER—making it invalid. Vivienne is the illegitimate one, not you.
You are the rightful Winters heir. Everything—the company, the fortune, the estate—belongs to you.
But there's more. Something darker. Something that connects to the Ashfords.
Victoria Ashford isn't dead. She faked her death ten years ago to operate in the shadows. She's been controlling both families—Winters AND Chen—orchestrating everything. The pharmaceutical fraud, the patent thefts, even the murders.
She killed Cain's parents when they discovered her scheme. She killed your mother when Isabelle found evidence. She tried to kill me, but I was too sick already—my heart gave out before she could finish the job.
Victoria is the puppet master. Everyone else—Patricia, Marcus, even Richard—they're just her players.
Why? Money. Power. And something else. Something about a drug. A pharmaceutical breakthrough worth billions. Your mother stumbled onto it right before she died.
The journals contain everything I know. Protect them. Protect yourself. And protect Cain—he doesn't know his grandmother is alive, doesn't know she's the real enemy.
I love you, my brave girl. Finish what your mother started.
- Grandmother Eleanor
The letter slips from my fingers.
Victoria Ashford. Cain's grandmother. The woman who pretended to die so she could control everything from the shadows.
She killed Cain's parents. My mother. My grandmother.
And Cain has no idea.
"Elara?" Sage touches my shoulder. "You're white as a sheet. What does it say?"
"Everything." I grab the journals, shoving them in my bag. "We need to get to the hospital. Now."
We're halfway out the door when the lights go out.
The entire café plunges into darkness.
"Power outage?" Sage whispers.
"No." I hear it—footsteps. Multiple people. Coming from different directions. "We're not alone."
We back toward the kitchen exit. My hand finds the knife block on the counter.
"Elara Winters." A man's voice, unfamiliar, echoing from the front. "Mrs. Victoria would like a word. Come quietly and your friend lives."
"Run," I whisper to Sage.
"Not leaving you—"
"RUN!"
I shove her toward the back exit and bolt the opposite direction, making noise, drawing them away from her.
Footsteps chase me. Fast. Professional.
I duck into the storage room, slam the door, drag a shelf across it. It won't hold long.
My phone—I need to call Nate, the FBI, anyone—
But there's no signal. They're jamming it.
The door splinters. Someone's kicking it down.
I grab the fire extinguisher, position myself beside the door, and wait.
The door crashes open. A man in black tactical gear steps through.
I swing.
The extinguisher connects with his head—CRACK—he drops.
But there are more. I hear them in the hallway.
The window. I run for it, smashing it with a chair. Climb through, cutting my hands on glass, dropping into the alley.
Footsteps behind me. Running. Gaining.
I sprint down the alley, lungs burning, the journals heavy in my bag.
A car screeches around the corner. Black SUV, windows tinted.
I'm trapped.
The SUV stops. The back door opens.
"Get in," a woman's voice says. "Now."
I freeze, recognizing the voice from the phone.
Victoria Ashford.
"Get in," she repeats, "or I'll have my men shoot you where you stand."
Laser sights appear on my chest. Three of them. Red dots dancing over my heart.
I get in the car.
Victoria Ashford is beautiful in a terrifying way—silver hair perfectly styled, designer clothes, a smile that doesn't reach her cold blue eyes. She looks like a grandmother from a magazine. Acts like a mob boss.
"You're faster than I expected," she says as the car speeds away. "Your mother was fast too. Didn't save her."
Rage floods through me. "You killed her."
"I gave the order. Victor Chen pulled the trigger, so to speak. Cut the brake lines." She examines her manicured nails. "Isabelle shouldn't have stolen from me."
"She didn't steal. She exposed your crimes."
"Semantics." Victoria waves a hand. "The pharmaceutical patent she found—the Ashford patent my son and daughter-in-law developed—was mine by right. I funded their research. When they refused to share the profits, I took what was owed."
"By killing them."
"By solving a problem." Her eyes are ice. "Their plane crash was elegant. Quick. Then your mother had to complicate things by finding the evidence."
"The flash drive," I say. "She passed it to Cain."
"And he's been a thorn in my side ever since. My favorite grandson, so brilliant, so determined—completely wasted on this foolish revenge quest." She leans forward. "Did you know I've been helping him all along? Feeding him information, guiding his investigation?"
My blood runs cold. "Why?"
"To control him. To make sure he only discovered what I wanted discovered. Patricia, Marcus, the Winters family—they were getting sloppy, greedy. Better to let Cain destroy them before they exposed ME."
"You sacrificed your own allies."
"I sacrificed pawns to protect the queen." She smiles. "Chess, my dear. I've been playing it for forty years."
"What do you want from me?"
"The journals. Eleanor's documentation. The birth certificates proving your legitimacy. Everything in that bag." She gestures to my backpack. "Hand it over, and I'll let you live. You can go back to your little café, forget all this, and I'll ensure the Winters fortune goes to Vivienne as planned."
"No."
"No?" Her eyebrow raises. "You're choosing death?"
"I'm choosing to finish what my mother and grandmother started. You're going to pay for every life you destroyed."
Victoria laughs—genuine, delighted. "You sound just like Isabelle. Same fire. Same stupidity." She pulls out a gun. "Last chance. The journals."
I clutch the bag tighter. "Shoot me. Nate has copies of everything. The FBI has copies. You kill me, you just prove everything Eleanor wrote."
"Who said anything about shooting you?" Victoria's smile turns predatory. "I have something much better planned."
She pulls out her phone, shows me a video feed.
Cain's hospital room.
A man in scrubs stands by his bed, syringe in hand.
"One call," Victoria says, "and my associate injects your husband with potassium chloride. Heart attack. Tragic. So sad. The Ice King, taken too soon."
My heart stops. "You wouldn't kill your own grandson."
"I killed my son and daughter-in-law. A grandson is hardly a stretch." She holds the phone closer. "The journals. Now. Or watch him die."
I look at the screen. Cain, unconscious, helpless, completely at this monster's mercy.
If I give her the journals, we have no proof. She wins.
If I don't, Cain dies.
My hands shake as I reach for my bag.
Then the car door explodes.
Glass shatters everywhere. Someone yanks me backward, out of the SUV.
"RUN!" Nate's voice yells.
I run.
Gunfire erupts behind me. Nate returns fire, covering me.
We dive behind a parked car as Victoria's men pour out of the SUV.
"Hospital," Nate gasps. "They have Lily too. Different room. Same plan."
"How did you—"
"Sage called me. Tracked your phone's last location." He hands me a gun. "Can you shoot?"
"If it means saving Cain? Yes."
"Good. Because we're about to storm a hospital to stop an assassination."
Police sirens wail in the distance. Getting closer.
"FBI?" I ask hopefully.
"Victoria's backup," Nate says grimly. "She owns half the department. We're on our own."
My phone buzzes—somehow the signal's back.
A text from an unknown number.
A photo of Cain's hospital room. The man in scrubs is leaning over him, syringe at his IV line.
The text: "Tick tock, Elara. How fast can you run? - V.A."
We're ten minutes from the hospital.
Cain has maybe five.