Nobody moved.The photograph of the Harrington mansion remained on Ryan’s phone.It had been taken less than a minute ago.From inside the estate.You are still looking outside.Ryan read the message again.Then he raised his head.“Lock the house.”Richard was already reaching for his phone.“Daniel.”The security chief stepped forward.“Full lockdown. Nobody leaves. Staff, guests, security—everyone stays where they are until they’re cleared.”“Yes, sir.”Ethan frowned. “You think the sender is actually here?”Ryan looked at the photograph.“Either they’re here, or they want us to think they are.”Claire leaned closer.“Can you tell where this was taken from?”Ryan enlarged the image.The photograph showed the mansion’s west side.Part of the garden appeared at the bottom.A stone statue stood near the edge.Victoria came beside him.“That’s from the west wing.”“Which floor?” Ryan asked.“Probably second or third.”Sophia shook her head. “The second-floor windows don’t have that ang

For the first time since Ryan entered the Harrington mansion, Richard looked afraid. Not worried. Not angry. Afraid. Ryan stared at him. “Your brother?” Richard’s eyes remained fixed on the old footage. The man’s face was only visible for a second, but apparently that was enough. “Yes.” “What was his name?” Richard didn’t answer immediately. “Dad.” “Alexander.” Ryan searched his fragmented memories of the novel. Alexander Harrington. Nothing. No dramatic villain. No secret uncle. No mention of Richard having a brother. Nothing. I don’t remember that name. His family heard him. Not once. Catherine looked disturbed. Ryan’s gaze sharpened. “Was he mentioned in the novel at all?” He had almost spoken that thought aloud. He stopped himself. Too late. Five people heard it. Claire and Ethan didn’t. Ryan looked at his family. A new problem suddenly occurred to him. They could hear his thoughts. Which meant eventually they were going to hear enough to realize

Ryan stared at the photograph until the faces began to blur. Seven children. Sophia. Ethan. Him. And four others he did not recognize. Behind them, written across the white wall: ONLY ONE HEIR WILL REMEMBER THE TRUTH. Ryan read the sentence again. Then again. It didn’t become less disturbing. “This is impossible.” Claire moved closer. “Which part?” Ryan looked at her. “All of it?” Fair answer. Sophia sat down heavily. “I don’t remember this.” Ethan remained standing beside her, his face pale. “Neither do I.” Ryan enlarged the photograph. He was five years old in it. That meant it had been taken around the time he disappeared. But Sophia was younger than him. Much younger. Something was wrong. His eyes narrowed. “Wait.” Everyone looked at him. “This photograph can’t be real.” Richard stepped closer. “Why?” Ryan pointed toward Sophia. “She and I weren’t this age at the same time.” Silence. Victoria immediately understood. “Ryan disappeared fifteen ye

Ryan had one immediate question. “How dead is Lucas Vale supposed to be?” Nobody answered. Obviously. Because nobody except Ryan knew Lucas Vale was supposed to be dead at all. Richard looked toward him. “You know him?” Ryan hesitated. Five members of the Harrington family were listening to his thoughts. That had become a serious problem. Don’t think about the novel. Catherine’s eyebrows pulled together. Ryan closed his eyes. Damn it. Especially don’t think the word novel. Victoria’s head tilted. Ryan pointed at all of them. “Can you please mentally leave the room?” Emma blinked. “How?” “I don’t know. Think about food.” Sophia almost smiled. Ethan looked irritated. “Why do you know Lucas?” Ryan turned toward him. “I’ve heard of him.” That wasn’t technically a lie. “Where?” “Complicated.” Ethan’s expression hardened. Claire folded her arms. “Everything about you is complicated.” Ryan ignored her. The security guard was still waiting. “Lucas Vale is at the

Ryan didn’t move. The forest seemed to disappear around him. Gunfire. Security. Christopher. Claire and Ethan running toward them. None of it mattered. Only the photograph in Ryan’s hand did. Two children. A little boy. A little girl. Both around five. Both smiling. And on the back— Ryan Harrington. Celia Harrington. Ryan slowly looked at Matthew. “You’re lying.” Matthew’s expression didn’t change. “I expected that.” “I don’t have a twin sister.” “You did.” “Did?” Matthew glanced toward the security officers approaching through the trees. “We shouldn’t have this conversation here.” Ryan grabbed his coat before he could move. “You’re not going anywhere.” Christopher stepped forward. “Ryan.” “Stay out of it.” Matthew looked down at Ryan’s hand. “You still do that.” Ryan’s grip tightened. “Do what?” “Grab people when you’re scared they’ll leave before answering you.” Ryan froze. That was too specific. Matthew smiled faintly. “You used to do it as a c