Chapter 2 THE VOICE FROM FIVE YEARS AGO

Elara didn't sleep. Every time she tried, that photo Silas sent haunted her especially the man standing behind her grandmother. He shouldn't have even been there. Adrian Vale was supposed to be dead, buried five years ago. She spent all night digging through newspaper archives, online obituaries, anything she could find about Adrian. Nothing explained why a dead man would show up in a fresh photograph.

By dawn, her head throbbed, two cups of coffee sat untouched on the table, and her grandmother's letter waited beside her laptop. She'd read it so many times she could have recited every word. But there was one line that wouldn't leave her alone.

The man in the photograph knows what happened to your parents.

That's what made her stomach turn. Her parents died in a car accident when she was eleven-she remembered the rain, the police at her grandmother's door, and Mara holding her all night. For sixteen years, she believed the accident was just that: an accident, nothing suspicious. Now, somehow, a dead man was tangled up in those old memories.

Elara zoomed in on the photo Silas sent. The picture was grainy but still clear enough to recognize faces. Her grandmother looked uncomfortable. Silas stood nearby, one hand resting on an empty chair. The third man, several feet behind them, stuck out like a shadow.

She searched an old newspaper archive for his name. ADRIAN VALE-FINANCIAL AUDITOR FOUND DEAD AT VEYR GRAND HOTEL. The article was dated October 18, five years ago. Adrian was found dead in a restricted hotel section. Police looked into suspects, but nobody was convicted. Cause of death: gunshot wound.

Elara stared at the photo again. The man behind her grandmother looked so much like Adrian, but she tried not to let herself buy in just because Silas sent it.

She dug up an old business magazine, found a photo of Adrian. Put them side by side. No doubt about it-it was him. Adrian.

But how?

Her phone rang suddenly, making her jump. Same unfamiliar number as before. She picked up.

"Who is that man?" she said, skipping any greeting.

"Good morning to you too," Silas replied. Of course.

Elara stood. "Don't play games. The man in that photograph is Adrian Vale."

"I know."

"He died five years ago."

"I'm aware of the official report."

"Then why was he standing behind my grandmother three weeks ago?"

Pause.

"Come to the hotel," he said.

"Dodging the question."

"I don't have an answer I can give you over the phone."

"How convenient."

"Not really."

Elara pressed her fingers into her forehead. "Did you know my grandmother was investigating Adrian's death?"

"Yes."

His answer surprised her.

"How long?"

"Several months."

"Why didn't you tell me yesterday?"

"You didn't ask."

She laughed, anger slipping through her voice.

"You're unbelievable."

"And you're asking about things that could put you in danger."

"I've been in danger before, Mr. Veyr. You were standing in the room."

Nothing for a moment. For the first time, Silas didn't have a comeback.

When he spoke again, his voice was quiet. "I know."

No denial. No twisting the truth. Just that.

Elara felt a pressure in her chest. "Did you kill him?"

"No."

"Then why were you holding the gun?"

He exhaled, slow and deliberate. "When I entered that room, Adrian was already dead."

She clutched the table. "You're saying you got there after the murder?"

"Yes."

"Why should I just believe you?"

"Don't believe it just because I say so. But you deserve to know-I didn't shoot him."

For a moment, Elara was silent. She remembered the room-wooden cabinets, broken glass, lingering smoke. She remembered Silas standing over Adrian's body, cuff stained with blood, his expression so cold it scared her. She had been terrified.

He told her: You didn't see anything.

She ran. The next morning, he handed her enough money to disappear.

"Why did you pay me?" she asked.

"I wanted you out of reach of the people involved."

"Which people?"

"I can't explain yet."

"Of course you can't."

"Elara."

"Don't say my name like you have any right to."

Again, silence.

Then Silas spoke: "Your grandmother came to me because she believed someone was hunting for the original ownership records. She thought the same people who killed Adrian knew she had evidence."

Elara glanced at the letter.

"What evidence?"

"I don't know exactly. She refused to say where it was hidden."

"Why would she trust you?"

"She didn't."

That caught Elara off guard. "Then why come to you?"

"She knew I'm the only one with access to the Veyr records. She wanted someone to verify what she'd found."

Elara drifted to the window. The black car from last night was gone, but she still felt watched.

"Was my grandmother afraid of you?"

"No."

"How can you be sure?"

"She was the only person who ever talked to me like my wealth and family meant nothing."

The way he said it made Elara pause. She pictured Mara sitting across from Silas-probably refusing whatever fancy drink he offered, telling him exactly what she thought.

It made her smile.

Her grandmother never liked rich men.

"Did she tell you anything about my parents?" Elara asked.

Silas didn't reply right away. Her heart raced.

"Silas?"

"I saw their accident report."

"What?"

"Your parents' accident was investigated by a private firm tied to the Veyr family. There were inconsistencies in the original records."

Elara felt the world slide under her feet. "Why would your family investigate my parents?"

"I'm trying to figure that out."

She stared at the wall. The accident had been blamed on slippery roads. The police told Mara the driver lost control. No investigation. No case. Nothing to question.

She'd always believed that.

"Did my grandmother know?"

"Yes."

Elara closed her eyes. Mara-her protector-had lived with that secret.

"Why didn't she tell me?"

"I think she wanted to protect you."

Elara's throat tightened.

"Everyone says they're protecting me. But I've spent my life in the dark."

"I understand more than you think," Silas said.

"No, you don't."

She hung up.

Elara stood by the window, struggling to breathe. Then she sat at the table and fired up her laptop again. She searched for the private investigation firm Silas mentioned. It dissolved four years ago. The director? Thomas Voss.

She froze.

Voss-her father's surname.

She searched again, this time with her father's full name. A scanned business registration popped up.

MARCUS VOSS-CONSULTING PARTNER, VEYR INVESTIGATIONS.

Her dad worked with the Veyr family.

And she never knew.

Before she could dig deeper, a new email pinged. The address was unfamiliar. Its subject: YOUR GRANDMOTHER'S DEBT.

She opened it. Just a scanned document-no greeting or signature. It looked like an old hotel security report, dated October 17, five years ago. Her name appeared near the bottom, followed by a handwritten note.

Witness removed. Payment completed. No further contact authorized.

She read it twice.

Below was a signature: Silas Veyr.

Her stomach flipped. He didn't just pay her to leave-he filed her absence like it was part of some operation.

She called him right away. He answered on the first ring.

"Did you send me a security report?"

"No."

"Your signature's on it."

"What report?"

She read the note aloud.

Silas went quiet.

Seconds later, his voice lost its usual calm. "Where did you get that?"

"Someone emailed it."

"Forward it to my office. Don't open attachments or follow links."

"You're not going to tell me what it means?"

"I'm going to find out who sent it."

"That's not what I asked."

"Elara, listen carefully. That report isn't supposed to exist."

She stared at it. "Why?"

"I never authorized anyone to record your departure as a completed operation."

The room felt smaller.

"Then who did?"

No answer. Instead, she heard a door open, someone talking softly in the background.

"Sir, we have a problem."

Silas's tone changed on a dime. "What happened?"

"The security archive's been accessed."

"By who?"

"We're still checking," the man said.

Then, something chilling: "Someone requested the original footage from the night Adrian Vale died."

Silas came back on.

"Elara, do not leave your house."

She almost laughed. "You're giving orders again?"

"No-I'm asking you not to make yourself an easy target."

"Why would anyone want that footage now?"

His answer was slow, measured. "Because someone knows you've returned."

Elara glanced at her front door.

A faint sound three knocks.

She froze.

"Silas?"

"Yes?"

"Someone's at my door."

"Don't open it."

The knocks came again. Then a stranger's voice: "Miss Voss? We have something that belonged to your grandmother."

Elara moved closer, phone pressed to her ear. "Who are you?"

The answer was calm, almost friendly.

"Someone who knows what happened to Adrian Vale."

Then a white envelope slid under the door.

She stared down. Four words written in handwriting she recognized:

ASK SILAS WHO HE SAVED.