Emily didn't sleep.
The ledger lay beneath her pillow, its secrets humming in the dark like a second heartbeat. Morning light crept in through the curtains, but it brought no warmth—only more questions.
Alexander had said he chose her. He married her to protect her. But from whom? And at what cost?
By noon, the estate was stirring with unnatural energy. Staff moved briskly. Security doubled. Whispers filled the hallways like static.
Someone knew Room 317 had been opened.
And they were closing in.
Emily found Miranda in the atrium, sipping her usual glass of blood-orange juice like nothing was amiss.
"You knew about my mother," Emily said without preamble.
Miranda didn't flinch. "Of course I did."
Emily stepped closer. "And you didn't think I deserved to know?"
Miranda set down her glass. "Deserve is a tricky word in this family. We all play our roles, Emily. Yours just became... more complicated."
"What was she to you?" Emily pressed.
Miranda's smile thinned. "She was a threat. A brilliant one. She thought she could expose the Knights. Burn down centuries of legacy. She nearly did."
Emily felt the ledger pressing against her ribs, heavy and urgent.
"She was my mother," she said, voice breaking. "Not a threat. Not a role. A person."
Miranda's expression softened—not with kindness, but something closer to respect. "And now you wear her second mask. Careful, dear. The first one nearly choked her."
---
That evening, Alexander called Emily into the north conservatory.
He stood among the white roses, his shirt sleeves rolled, the collar undone—more human than she'd ever seen him.
"I need to show you something," he said.
He led her down a different path, beneath the mansion into a sublevel that smelled of stone and iron. No art. No pretence.
A vault door stood at the end.
Inside: documents, weapons, encrypted files. But what he handed her wasn't any of that.
It was a small velvet box.
She opened it.
Inside sat a delicate pendant, shaped like a crescent moon with a single sapphire in the centre.
"It was your mother's," Alexander said quietly. "She left it for you. She wanted you to have it when the time was right."
Emily's throat tightened. "Why now?"
"Because," he said, "they've put out the signal. The family council. The ones who think I've gone soft. They're calling for a vote."
"A vote?" she asked, confused.
"To remove me. As head. As protector. And if that happens, you're no longer safe under my name."
Emily closed the box.
"So what do we do?"
Alexander looked at her—not as a symbol, not as a shield, but as a partner.
"We fight back," he said. "Together. If you're still willing."
Emily stared at him, heart pounding.
Then she put on the pendant.
"I've already started."
---
Outside, the city lights flickered on like stars being lit one by one.
Inside the vault of the Knights, a war for power, for identity, and the truth had begun.
Emily Foster Knight was no longer anyone's pawn.
She was becoming something far more dangerous—
A player with nothing left to lose.