Ivy's POV
"We're not going to the storage unit," Damien says, staring at the photo of my father.
"What?" I grab his arm. "They have my dad! They'll kill him if I don't—"
"It's a trap, Ivy. Can't you see that?" He shows me the photo again. "Look at the timestamp. This picture was taken four hours ago, before they even attacked my house. They've been planning this."
My heart pounds. "I don't care if it's a trap. He's my father!"
"Is he?" Damien's voice is gentle but firm. "The man you knew died three years ago. This person—whoever he is—abandoned you. Let you grieve. Let you suffer. Now he's using you to save himself."
"He said he did it to protect me!"
"Then why come back now? Why put you in danger?" Damien cups my face, forcing me to look at him. "Think, Ivy. Really think. What changed? What's different now?"
I want to argue, but my brain starts working. What is different?
"You," I whisper. "I'm with you now. You have money and power and resources."
"Exactly. Before, you were just a college student. Easy to ignore. But now you're with me, and suddenly these people are desperate." His thumb brushes away my tears. "Your father isn't trying to protect you. He's trying to use you."
The words hurt worse than anything Marcus ever said. But deep down, I know Damien's right.
My father let me think he was dead for three years. He didn't call on my birthdays. Didn't check if I was okay. Didn't care that Mom remarried a man who barely acknowledged my existence.
"So what do we do?" My voice cracks. "Just let them kill him?"
"We get to that flash drive first. Then we have leverage." Damien pulls out his phone. "Elena, change of plans. We need—"
The phone explodes in his hand.
Not literally explodes, but it might as well have. Sparks fly. The screen goes black. Damien drops it with a curse, shaking his burned fingers.
"What just happened?" I stare at the smoking phone on the floor.
"Remote kill switch." Damien's face is grim. "Someone just fried my phone. Which means they're tracking us. Listening to us."
"How is that even possible?"
"Money buys a lot of things. Including hackers who can turn phones into weapons." He grabs my phone from my hand and throws it against the wall, smashing it to pieces. "We're going dark. No phones, no credit cards, no electronic trail."
"But how will we contact Elena? Or the police? Or anyone?"
"We don't. Not until we have that flash drive and know what we're dealing with." He takes my hand. "We have fifty-three minutes to get to that storage unit, get what we need, and disappear before they find us."
We run down the stairs and back to the car. Damien drives like a maniac, weaving through traffic, checking mirrors constantly.
"Tell me about the box," he says. "Everything you remember."
"It was small. Metal. Had a combination lock." I close my eyes, trying to picture it. "My father's lawyer gave it to me the day after the funeral. He said Dad left instructions to give it only to me, not my mother. That's why Mom was so angry about it."
"Did the lawyer say anything else?"
"Just that Dad made the arrangements two weeks before he died." I open my eyes. "Damien, what if he knew? What if he knew someone was going to kill him?"
"Then he planned ahead. The question is, what's on that drive that's worth killing for?"
We pull up to SecureSpace at 11:47 PM. Thirteen minutes until the deadline.
The facility is mostly dark, just security lights glowing. The front gate is closed, but I have a code. My hand shakes as I punch it in.
The gate opens.
"This feels wrong," I whisper. "Too easy."
"It is too easy." Damien pulls the gun from his waistband. "They want us here. They're probably already inside."
"Then why are we walking into their trap?"
"Because we don't have a choice." He squeezes my hand. "Stay behind me. If shooting starts, you run. Don't look back, don't wait for me. Just run."
"I'm not leaving you."
"Ivy—"
"I said I'm not leaving you!" My voice echoes in the parking lot. "I've lost everyone I ever loved. I'm not losing you too."
His jaw clenches, but he doesn't argue.
We find Unit 47 at the back of the building. My key fits the lock. The door rolls up with a rusty screech.
Inside, boxes are stacked everywhere. Dad's whole life, reduced to cardboard and dust.
"The metal box should be in the back," I say. "He always kept important things in the back."
We search quickly, quietly. Every shadow makes my heart jump. Every sound could be danger.
Then I see it. The small metal box, exactly where I remember.
I pull it out, hands shaking. The combination lock stares at me.
"What's the code?" Damien asks.
"I don't know. I never opened it." Panic rises in my chest. "What if I can't figure it out?"
"Try your birthday."
I do. Nothing.
"Try the day your father died."
I try that too. Still nothing.
"Damien, we're running out of time—"
"Think, Ivy. What mattered to your father? What would he use as a code?"
I close my eyes, remembering. Dad singing to me. Dad teaching me to ride a bike. Dad crying at my elementary school graduation because he was so proud.
The answer hits me. Our special day. The day he always said was the best day of his life.
The day I was born.
I enter the numbers: 06-14-04.
The lock clicks open.
Inside the box are three things: a flash drive, a letter addressed to me, and a photograph.
The photograph makes my blood turn to ice.
It's my father, standing next to a younger Damien Cross. They're smiling, arms around each other's shoulders, looking like best friends.
But the date on the photo is from fifteen years ago.
Before my father supposedly met Damien through business.
Before I was even born.
"You knew him," I whisper, turning to Damien. "You knew my father before. You've known him my whole life."
Damien's face goes pale. "Ivy, I can explain—"
"You lied to me." My voice shakes. "Everything you said about meeting him through business, about becoming partners later—it was all lies."
"It's complicated—"
"What else did you lie about?" Tears stream down my face. "Did you know he was alive? Were you working with him this whole time? Is that why you got close to me—to find this flash drive?"
"No! God, no, Ivy, I swear—"
A slow clap echoes through the storage unit.
We both spin around.
Victor steps out of the shadows, gun pointed at us. But he's not alone.
Behind him stands my father.
And behind my father stands someone I never expected to see.
My mother.
"Hello, darling," Mom says, smiling like we're at a tea party. "Did you really think your father was the only one with secrets?"
The letter falls from my numb fingers.
Victor picks it up, reads it, then laughs. "Oh, this is perfect. You want to tell her, James? Or should I?"
My father won't meet my eyes. "I'm sorry, princess. I never wanted you to find out this way."
"Find out what?" I can barely breathe.
Mom steps forward, still smiling that horrible smile. "That you're not our daughter, Ivy. You never were."
The world tilts sideways.
"What?"
"We bought you," Mom says simply. "Twenty-two years ago, from a very desperate woman who needed money. You were our investment. Our insurance policy. And now it's time to collect."