<b>Chapter </b>99
:
<b>59 </b>
55 vouchers
“Are you sure you want to open your father’s safe?” Logan asked as they stepped into the Be family mansion. His tone wasn’t doubtful, just steady, like he wanted her to be certain before she crossed a line she couldn’t take back.
“Why else would she give me this?” Emery said, holding up the folded slip of paper Deana had pressed into her hand. “She wanted me to see it. To know.”
Inwardly, Emery was already bracing herself for what might be inside. She suspected it had something to do with her mother, her identity, her background, the questions that had followed Emery her whole life. She had never met her mother, never even seen a photograph of her, and she knew nothing about her mother’s family
too.
If her guess was right, then perhaps her mother hade from a modest or even struggling background, and her father had deliberately kept that part of her life hidden. Maybe he had gone so far as to prevent her mother’s family from ever knowing Emery existed.
Now that Emery was older, Deana must have thought it was finally time for her to uncover the truth about her maternal side.
Logan didn’t argue. He simply walked beside her as she made her way down the hall toward her father’s study.
“I didn’t grow up here,” Emery said suddenly, her eyes trailing over the portraits lining the walls and the polished woodwork that screamed of old money and family history. “But there was a time when I used to think about what it would be like. Staying here. Being part of all this. Having… a ce.” Her voice wavered slightly before she caught herself.
Logan stayed quiet, letting her words linger.
Emery gave a smallugh, though it held no humor. “In some way, you and I are the same, aren’t we? Both of us on the outside, looking in.”
She stopped walking when she realized Logan wasn’t at her side anymore. She turned and found him standing a few steps behind, watching her with an unreadable expression.
“Is there-” she began, but her words cut off when he closed the distance between them in two strides and pulled her into his arms.
The embrace was sudden, firm, and for a moment Emery forgot about the safe, the mansion, and even the paper clenched in her hand.
“You don’t have to worry…” he suddenly said. “You have me now.”
Emery’s throat tightened. She didn’t know how to respond. For some reason, her eyes stung, and she had to blink rapidly to keep herself from showing it. “We should… go now,” she managed.
She didn’t know what she was doing either. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was something else entirely. All she knew was that she liked the warmth he offered, even if it unsettled her.
<b>9:31 </b><b>Mon</b><b>, </b><b>Sep </b>15 ·
…
<b>59 </b>
55 vouchers
Logan didn’t press<b>. </b>He simply released her and walked with her the rest of the way until they reached the study.
The room smelled faintly of leather and polished wood. Behind therge mahogany desk was a towering bookshelf that stretched nearly to the ceiling, <b>its </b>shelves lined with rows of hardbound volumes and a few framed photographs tucked between them. The desk itself was broad and heavy, with neat stacks of papers arranged beside an ornate pen holder.
In front of the desk stood two long couches facing each other with a low ss table between them, the kind of arrangement meant for formal discussions or negotiations. A thick rug stretched beneath it all, muffling their footsteps as they entered.
Emery paused in the doorway, her chest heavy. She had imagined this room so many times when she was younger. She had thought of her father behind the desk, her being weed inside. Instead, every memory she had was of distance, silence, and absence.
She drew in a breath, fingers tightening around the folded slip of paper in her hand. The safe was here, somewhere behind the books or hidden in the desk. But for a moment, she wasn’t thinking about secrets or
answers<b>. </b>
She was thinking about herself. About Logan and the warmth that he offered. About the risk of letting someone get too close. If I let myself fall… will I break again? The thought chilled her, even as Logan’s presence behind her seemed to push back against it. She swallowed.
She should just focused on the safe, she thought inwardly.
Emery forced herself to move. She crouched down in front of the bookshelf, her fingers tracing along the lower panels until she found it, an old safe tucked into the base. It wasn’t modern like she expected. Instead, it had a heavy iron door and a circr dial lock, the kind that looked like it belonged to another decade.
Her stomach twisted as she unfolded the slip of paper Deana had given her. Carefully, she turned the dial left, right, then left again, following the numbers. For a moment, she thought she might have done it wrong, but then–click. The sound echoed louder than it should have in the silence of the study.
Slowly, Emery pulled the door open.
Inside were stacks of folders, thick envelopes, and clipped documents. No photographs. No letters or traces of her mother’s handwriting or anything sentimental at all. She had expected something personal, something that might exin why her father had kept his distance. Instead, what greeted her were papers that smelled of ink and time<i>. </i>
Her chest sank.
Behind her, Logan remained by the desk. He leaned one hand on the table, his gaze following her every move but saying nothing.
Emery pulled out one of the folders and set it on herp. She opened it, expecting maybe old business or financial records. But as her eyes scanned the first page, her face shifted. Her brows pulled tight, her mouth tensed, and the color drained from her cheeks.
The words on the page weren’t about business contracts. They were reports. Detailed, clinical, and filled with names and dates that made her stomach churn.
9:31 Mon<b>, </b>Sep 15
59
<b>55 </b>vouchers
Her grip on the folder tightened. She blinked, forcing herself to keep reading even as her pulse climbed.
Logan’s voice finally cut through the heavy air. “What is it?”
Emery looked up at him, her expression hardening. “These… aren’t what I expected…”
<b>9:31 </b><b>Mon</b><b>, </b><b>Sep </b>15 <b>d</b>.