"They didn’t just exclude my daughter from the party—what they did after she arrived made me realize the humiliation had been planned. "

The docks were pitch black.

The only light came from a single flickering streetlamp at the end of the pier and the faint glow of the city across the water.

It was raining.

Cold, hard rain that soaked through my hoodie in two seconds flat.

I parked two blocks away, just like Ben had told me.

I saw his car idling in the shadows of the gas station.

He flashed his headlights once.

I flashed mine back.

I walked toward the warehouse.

My boots crunched on broken glass and old beer cans.

My hand was on the gun in my purse, my finger hovering over the trigger.

Every shadow looked like a man with a gun.

Every creak of the old wood sounded like footsteps behind me.

I got to the warehouse door at 11:58.

It was cracked open.

A thin sliver of yellow light spilled out onto the wet concrete.

“Javier?” I called, my voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Inside,” a voice called back. “Hurry. And close the door behind you.”

I stepped inside.

The warehouse was huge.

Full of old wooden crates and rusted shipping containers.

Javier was standing in the middle, under a single bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

He was in his late thirties, broad-shouldered, a scar running down his left cheek.

He looked exhausted.

Like he hadn’t slept in a week.

He held up a small black USB drive between his thumb and forefinger.

“Everything is on here,” he said. “Four years of footage. All the emails. All the bank records. Enough to put Margaret away for the rest of her life.”

I walked toward him.

“Why didn’t you go to the cops?”

He laughed, a bitter sound.

“Half the cops in this city are on Margaret’s payroll. The other half are scared of her. I tried to go to the chief of police six months ago, right after Richard died. He told me if I ever opened my mouth again, I’d end up at the bottom of the river. I sent my wife and kids to stay with her sister in Texas last week. I’m leaving the country tonight. First flight to Mexico City out of the small airport upstate. Never coming back.”

He held out the drive.

I reached for it.

A shot rang out.

Loud.

Deafening.

Javier’s head snapped back.

A red hole appeared right between his eyes.

He fell to the ground, dead before he hit the concrete.

I screamed.

I dropped to the ground behind a stack of crates, my heart hammering so hard I could hear it in my ears.

I fumbled for the gun in my purse.

My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped it.

“Nice to see you again, Clara.”

I knew that voice.

Lena.

I peeked around the edge of the crate.

She was standing in the shadows by the door, a gun in her hand, a cold smile on her face.

She looked different than she had at the party.

No more mousy nanny clothes.

She was wearing black leather pants and a tight black top.

Her hair was down, wild around her face.

“Lena,” I said. “You killed him.”

“Duh,” she said, stepping closer, gun still pointed right at where I was hiding. “Margaret promised me if I took care of you and got that drive, Toby would get every last dime of the Hale fortune. And she’d finally acknowledge me as her daughter. Can you believe it? Forty years I waited for that woman to love me. Forty years I watched her spoil Richard like he was the second coming of Christ, while I was stuck with foster parents who forgot to feed me half the time. And now? All I have to do is kill you. And it’s all mine.”

“You killed an innocent man,” I said.

“Please,” she said. “He was just the help. No one’s gonna miss him. Now come on out, Clara. We don’t have to make this messy. If you get on your knees and beg, I might even make it quick. For Lily’s sake. Though, between us? That little brat is gonna get exactly what she deserves once I’m running the show. Margaret is already planning to send her to a boarding school in Switzerland where no one will ever hear from her again. She’ll spend the rest of her life rotting in some cold castle, wondering why her mommy didn’t love her enough to fight for her.”

Rage washed over me.

Hot, blinding rage.

I looked around.

Right next to my foot was a rusted lead pipe, about two feet long.

I grabbed it.

I waited.

I heard her boots on the concrete, getting closer.

One step.

Two steps.

Three.

She was right on the other side of the crate.

I took a deep breath.

I stood up fast.

I swung the pipe as hard as I could.

It hit her right across the side of the head.

She screamed.

The gun flew out of her hand, skittering across the floor.

She fell to her knees, clutching her head, blood pouring through her fingers.

I grabbed the gun off the floor.

I pointed it right at her.

My hands were still shaking.

But my voice was steady.

“Where is she, Lena? Where is Margaret keeping Lily?”

Lena laughed, spitting blood onto the concrete.

“Go to hell.”

I cocked the gun.

“Wrong answer.”

Her eyes went wide.

“Okay! Okay! She’s at the mansion. In Lily’s old room. Margaret is gonna take her to the airport at 5 a.m. Private jet to Switzerland. She’s got all the paperwork forged. Says she’s taking her on a ‘family vacation.’ No one’s gonna stop her.”

I backed away, gun still pointed at her.

I saw the USB drive on the floor next to Javier’s body.

I grabbed it, stuffed it in my pocket.

“If Lily has one single scratch on her,” I said, “I will come back and I will kill you. Understand?”

Lena nodded, eyes wide with fear.

I turned and ran out of the warehouse.

I didn’t look back.

I ran as fast as I could to my car.

I peeled out of the parking lot, tires squealing.

I called Ben.

“Clara? Jesus, I heard gunshots. We were two seconds from storming in. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “Javier is dead. Lena shot him. But I got the drive. Ben, it’s all on here. Everything. And Lena said Margaret is taking Lily to Switzerland at 5 a.m. Private jet out of the small airport upstate. We have to get to the mansion now. Before she leaves.”

Ben was already yelling orders to the cops in his car.

“We’re right behind you. I called 911. They’re sending every unit they have to the mansion. Don’t go in alone, Clara. Wait for us.”

“I can’t wait,” I said. “If I’m even one minute late, she’s gone. And I’ll never see my daughter again.”

I hung up.

I floored the gas pedal.

The speedometer hit 110.

I didn’t care.