By midmorning, Adrian was already gone. He’d been up long before dawn, his suit pressed and tie knotted, striding through the kitchen with a phone pressed to his ear and that clipped, impatient tone he usually used that meant shareholders were breathing down his neck.

“Markus and Ava will handle the rest,” he said without looking really at me, scanning his tablet as he grabbed his coffee. “Don’t leave the property. The police want to go over their notes again and the press is circling.”

I almost laughed at the irony of being told to stay put like a teenager under house arrest. “And where will you be?”

“Putting out fires,” he said simply, and then he was out the door, his black sedan already pulling away before I could argue.

We still hadn’t seen Allegra again, but her shadow always lingered in the headlines. Every morning the papers made sure to run something about the Westwoods, some wild speculation or another about the gala, whispers about old rivals, recycled photos of me from charity luncheons now captioned with phrases like “The Wife in the Crossfire.”

Ava had been everywhere these past few days, handling reporters with her usual lethal efficiency. This morning I found her in the foyer with a camera crew backed against the wall.

"No comment means no comment," she said with that razor-sharp glare. "You have thirty seconds to get off this property or we’ll have security escort you out."

She turned, caught my eye, and smiled in a way that told me everything was under control. If I didn’t know any better, I would've thought she lived for this.

Meanwhile Marla had been acting strange, nothing at all like her former self, just slipping in and out of the house, making tea one moment and disappearing for days the next, and whenever I asked where she'd been, she'd dodge my question and wave me off with vague mentions of errands, and each time she did, my suspicion inched higher.

But today wasn't about Marla, today was about the key. It sat heavy in my pocket now as I made my way down the back staircase. The plan was simple: Adrian was in meetings all morning, the police were due for another statement in the afternoon, and Markus and Ava were heading out to check something “routine.”

They hadn’t told me it was about the key, but I wasn't stupid, I’d overheard them in the east hallway, Markus muttering about a match on a lock, Ava saying, “We can check it before anyone else gets there.”

So here I was, slipping out the service door, hoodie pulled over my head like a teenager skipping school.

An hour later, I spotted them through the upstairs window pulling out of the driveway in the dark SUV, then I made my move. The back garage still had one of Adrian’s older cars. It was a low, sleek coupe he almost never drove, and I’d already learned where the spare keys were kept. If anyone asked, I could say I’d gone for air.

At least that was the plan, until Markus parked abruptly while I was doing a terrible job at tailing them.

"Oh, come on." he muttered, opening his door and walking out to shake his head disapprovingly at me.

"What? You didn't think I'd just sit at home, did you?"

"Yeah, actually, I did think that." Markus looked annoyed. "This could be dangerous."

"So could staying home with mysterious keys showing up under my door."

"She has a point," Ava said.

"Does she? Because last time I checked, we're supposed to be keeping her safe, not bringing her along on potentially dangerous missions."

I crossed my arms. "I'm standing right here. And I'm the one who found the damn key, so I think I get a say in what happens next."

Markus looked like he wanted to argue more, but Ava cut him off. "We're wasting time. Besides, she's already here now, so just call someone to get her car and park it back at the mansion, she'll come with us."

Inside, the warehouse was all empty shelves and stale air. Markus led us to a steel door at the back with a small keyhole near the bottom.

"Well?" he said, looking at me.

I pulled out the key. "Here goes nothing."

It slid in perfectly and turned with a soft click.

"Too easy," said Ava.

"Great," Markus muttered. "Now what?"

Before anyone could answer, we heard steady footsteps coming from somewhere deeper inside the building.

"Shit," Markus whispered, his hand moving to his jacket.

But Ava didn't move. She just stood there, almost like she was waiting.

"Ava?" I whispered.

A figure stepped out of the shadows. A tall man in dark clothes, with a face I couldn't quite make out clearly in the dim light.

Markus went very still. "No way."

"Hello, Markus." The man's voice was calm, almost pleasant. "Been a while."

"That's not possible. You're supposed to be dead."

"And yet, here I am. I know, funny how that works out sometimes."

I looked between them. "Um, who is this?"

"Old friend," the stranger said before Markus could answer. "Though I suppose 'friend' might be overstating things these days."

"Friend doesn't really cover it, no," Markus said tightly.

"Who are you?" I asked directly.

"Someone who used to work for your husband's family. Until that became... problematic."

"Problematic how?"

"Let's just say Adrian and I had different ideas about how to handle certain business situations."

Markus stepped slightly in front of me. "What are you doing here?"

"Same thing you are, I'd guess. Following the breadcrumbs."

"What breadcrumbs?"

"Come on, Markus. You think it's a coincidence that key showed up right when it did? That it led you right here?"

Ava finally spoke up. "You're working with Allegra."

"Working with her? That's a strong word, but we have some shared interests."

"Like what?" I demanded.

"Like reminding people that the past doesn't stay buried just because you want it to."

"What past?"

The man looked at me for a long moment. "You really don't know much about how your husband's family built their empire, do you?"

"I know enough."

"Do you? Did Adrian ever tell you about some of the early business deals? The ones that weren't exactly... standard practice?"

Markus took another step forward. "That's enough."

"Is it? I think Mrs. Westwood deserves to know what she married into."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, even though part of me wasn't sure I wanted to know.

"Ask your husband about the Morrison project. Ask him what happened to the inspector who was going to shut it down."

"The Morrison project was years ago," Ava said quietly.

"Fifteen years. Not that long in the grand scheme of things. Especially when there are still people who remember."

I felt cold suddenly. "Remember what?"

"Remember how problems used to get solved in the Westwood family, before Adrian decided to go legitimate."

"You're lying."

"Am I? There's one way to find out." He nodded toward the door we'd just unlocked. "Go take a look."

"Look at what?"

"Documents. Photos. Records that some people kept as insurance policies."

Markus grabbed my arm. "Don't. Celeste, we need to leave. Now."

But I was already moving toward the door. "I need to see."

"No, you don't," Ava said sharply. "Whatever's in there, it's what someone wants you to find. It's a setup."

I paused. "So? That doesn't mean it's not true."

"It doesn't mean it is true either."

The stranger smiled. "Only one way to find out."

"This is exactly what Allegra wants," Markus said. "She wants you to see whatever's in there. She wants you to doubt Adrian."

"Maybe I should doubt him. Maybe I should have been asking more questions all along."

"Or maybe," Ava said, "you should trust your husband instead of some guy who just appeared out of nowhere."

"Some guy who knew you," I pointed out. "Some guy who worked for Adrian's family."

"Yeah, and look how that worked out," Markus said grimly.

The stranger stepped back. "I'm not going to make the choice for you. But ask yourself this, if there's nothing to hide, why are they so desperate to get you out of here?"

"Because it's not safe," Markus said.

"Or because they don't want you to see what's behind that door."

I looked at the open doorway, then back at the three of them. Markus looked worried. Ava looked calculating. The stranger looked... satisfied.

"What's really going on here?" I asked.

"What's going on," the stranger said, "is that your husband's past is catching up with him, and Allegra thought you should know about it."

"Why does she care what I know?"

"Because she knows that once you see who Adrian really is, everything changes."

"And who is he really?"

The stranger started backing away into the shadows. "Why don't you ask him? Ask him about Morrison, ask him about the inspector. Ask him about all the people who got in the way of Westwood business deals over the years."

"Wait," I called out. "Don't just leave cryptic hints. If you know something, tell me."

But he was already disappearing into the darkness.

"Tell Adrian," his voice echoed back, "that Allegra says hello. And that some secrets don't stay buried forever."

Then silence.

"Well," I said after a moment. "That was ominous."

"That was planned," Ava corrected. "Every word of it."

"That doesn't mean he was lying though."

"Doesn't mean he was telling the truth either," Markus said. "Come on, we need to go."

"What about whatever's in there?" I nodded toward the door.

"We'll deal with it later when we have backup."

I looked one more time at the open door, then back at them. "Fine. But I want answers. Real ones."

"You'll get them," Ava promised.

As we walked back to the cars, I couldn't shake the feeling that everything was about to change, and that the key hadn't just opened a door, it had opened questions I wasn't sure anyone wanted to answer. Who left it in the first place? What did they hope to achieve by doing that? Who was that man and were all those things he said about Adrian true?