“The Waitress Refused to Serve Him—Then He Whispered ‘Locker 27’”

The words hit Emma like a physical blow.

Noah.

She didn't stay hidden. She didn't try to reason with Victoria. Emma shoved the ledger into the waistband of her black trousers, pulled her server vest tight across her chest to hide it, and ran.

She sprinted in the opposite direction, vaulting over a chain-link fence at the back of the alley, tearing her hands on the cold metal. She landed hard on the asphalt of the next street, her knees screaming in protest, but she didn't slow down.

Her apartment was twelve blocks away.

She had never run so fast in her life. The freezing wind burned her throat, and the thin fabric of her uniform offered zero protection against the biting cold, but all she could see was her twelve-year-old brother’s face.

Noah. Sweet, quiet Noah, who stayed up late doing his math homework on the living room floor because the heat didn't reach his bedroom.

Please, she prayed with every step. Please let me get there first.

She turned the final corner, her lungs burning, and saw their peeling, four-story apartment building. The street was quiet. There was no black sedan.

Emma practically ripped the heavy front door open, ignoring the broken intercom, and bounded up the three flights of stairs, taking them two at a time.

She reached apartment 3B.

The door was slightly ajar.

Emma stopped. The blood rushed to her ears.

"Noah?" she whispered.

Silence.

She pushed the door open. The living room was dark, illuminated only by the faint glow of the streetlamp through the window. The television was off. The math books were scattered across the rug.

"Noah!" Emma shouted, panic finally breaking her voice.

"Emma?"

A small voice came from the kitchen.

Emma rushed in. Noah was sitting on the cracked linoleum floor, clutching a baseball bat tightly to his chest. His eyes were wide behind his thick glasses.

Emma dropped to her knees and pulled him into a crushing hug. "Are you okay? Did someone come in here?"

Noah nodded against her shoulder, trembling. "A man. He picked the lock. I heard him, so I hid in the pantry like Mom told us to do if there was ever an emergency."

Emma pulled back, examining his face for any injuries. "Did he see you?"

"No," Noah whispered. "He walked around the living room. He was looking for something. He opened all the drawers. Then his phone rang."

"What did he say?"

"He said, 'She's not here, but I found out where the mother works. I'm heading there now.'"

Emma’s stomach plummeted.

The nursing home.

Victoria hadn't been threatening Noah. She had been distracting Emma. They were going after their mother.

"We have to leave," Emma said, standing up and pulling Noah to his feet. "Get your coat. Your heavy one. Put your boots on."

"What's going on, Em?" Noah asked, his voice shaking. "Why are you home so early? Where's your coat?"

"I'll explain later," Emma said, rushing to her mother’s bedroom. She grabbed an old duffel bag and shoved a few changes of clothes inside. "We just need to go."

She walked back into the living room. Noah was standing by the coffee table, holding something small and metallic.

"He dropped this," Noah said, holding it out. "The man who broke in."

Emma took it.

It was a heavy, silver pocket watch. The glass face was cracked, but the intricate engraving on the back was pristine.

It was a family crest. A shield with two wolves.

Emma had seen this crest before. It was embossed on the menus at the Grand Meridian Hotel. It was the personal crest of Arthur, the old man who had been poisoned.

"Why would Harrison have the owner’s pocket watch?" Emma muttered to herself.

"Who is Harrison?" Noah asked.

Emma looked down at her brother. "He’s my boss. Well, my ex-boss."

Noah frowned, tilting his head. "Emma, Dad didn't work for your boss."

"I know," Emma said, pulling the ledger from her waistband and setting it on the table. "Dad was a freelance accountant."

"No," Noah insisted, pointing to the pocket watch. "That crest. Dad had papers with that picture on it. Lots of them. He hid them in the floorboards under my bed."

Emma froze. "What?"

Noah walked into his bedroom. Emma followed closely behind. Noah knelt down, pulled back the faded rug near the radiator, and pried up a loose wooden board.

He reached inside and pulled out a thick, manila envelope.

He handed it to Emma.

She opened it. Inside were copies of the same offshore bank transfers she had just seen in the ledger.

But there was something else.

A faded, physical photograph.

It showed three men standing in front of the Grand Meridian Hotel, smiling. It looked like it had been taken twenty years ago.

One was Arthur, looking younger and vibrant.

One was her father, Daniel Reed.

And the third man...

Emma gasped.

It wasn't Harrison.

It was a man she had never seen before in her life. But the resemblance was undeniable. He had the same eyes as Emma. The same jawline.

Before Emma could process what she was looking at, her cell phone buzzed in her pocket.

It was an unknown number.

She answered it, her hand shaking. "Hello?"

"Emma," a voice whispered. It was her mother. But she sounded terrified, out of breath. "Don't go to the police. Don't trust anyone. He isn't who you think he is."

"Mom? Where are you? Are you at the nursing home?"

"Listen to me," her mother sobbed. "The ledger. You have to bring it to the hotel. The basement loading dock."

"Mom, I'm not bringing it back! They'll kill us!"

"They already have me, Emma," her mother cried.

Then the line went dead.

Emma stared at the phone.