Nora reached the north corridor.
A door stood open.
She stopped.
She was certain it had been locked earlier.
At the far end of the corridor, someone disappeared around a corner.
“Hey!”
Nora ran after them.
She reached the tower stairs and heard footsteps above.
Someone else was already climbing.
“Stop!”
No answer.
The stairs twisted upward.
The wind became louder.
Eleven fifty-one.
Nora climbed.
One floor.
Two.
Three.
At the top, she pushed through a narrow wooden door.
The bell chamber was dark except for flashes of lightning through the stone arches.
The bronze bell hung overhead like an enormous shadow.
A man stood beside the western wall.
Dr. Owen Mercer.
The family physician.
He was holding a metal box.
Nora froze.
Mercer froze too.
“What are you doing?”
He looked at the box.
Then toward the stairs.
“Nora, you shouldn’t be here.”
“What’s in that?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“You declared Eleanor dead.”
Mercer’s face collapsed.
Not dramatically.
It simply lost its strength.
“I made a mistake.”
“She was breathing.”
“Her vital signs were almost undetectable.”
“You didn’t take her to a hospital.”
“Gideon said she had signed instructions—”
“Gideon?”
Mercer stopped.
Nora stepped closer.
“What did he tell you?”
The tower bell mechanism clicked above them.
Eleven fifty-three.
Mercer clutched the box.
“I need to leave.”
Nora blocked the stairs.
“Open it.”
“Nora.”
“Open it.”
A new voice came from behind her.
“Move.”
Gideon stood in the doorway.
He was breathing hard from the climb.
Lydia was several steps behind him.
Gideon looked at Mercer.
“You idiot.”
Mercer turned pale.
“You said nobody knew.”
“Give me the box.”
Nora looked from one man to the other.
Lydia entered the chamber.
“What’s happening?”
Gideon extended his hand.
“Owen. Give it to me.”
Mercer hesitated.
That hesitation changed everything.
Lydia stared at the metal box.
“Is that why my mother said tower?”
No one answered.
She looked at Gideon.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“She was alive.”
“I didn’t know that.”
Mercer whispered, “You said the dose would only make her unconscious.”
Silence.
Even the storm seemed to vanish.
Gideon turned slowly toward him.
Mercer realized what he had said.
Lydia’s face changed.
“What dose?”
Mercer backed toward the wall.
Gideon lunged for the metal box.
Nora moved first.
She shoved Mercer aside, caught the box against her chest, and stepped backward.
Gideon came toward her.
“Give me that.”
“No.”
“You don’t know what you’re holding.”
“Then explain it.”
He stopped pretending.
His grief disappeared.
His patience disappeared.
For the first time, Nora saw the man Eleanor had apparently seen before anyone else.
Cold.
Precise.
Furious.
“Give me the box.”
Lydia stepped between them.
“Answer me.”
Gideon looked at his niece.
“Your mother was about to destroy this family.”
“My mother built this family.”
“She built a myth.”
Lightning flashed.
The bell mechanism moved.
Eleven fifty-six.
Gideon pointed toward the box.
“She collected documents she didn’t understand.”
“About what?”
“About the company.”
Lydia laughed bitterly.
“You mean about you.”
Gideon’s eyes hardened.
For the past three years, Wren Maritime had been leading a massive harbor reconstruction project along the northern coast.
The project was worth billions.
Whole towns depended on it.
Politicians had praised it.
Investors had poured money into it.
Eleanor had once called it the greatest project of her career.
Then, six months earlier, something changed.
She began staying up at night.
She cancelled meetings.
She asked Nora to bring meals to the study rather than the dining room.
She started making calls from prepaid phones.
One evening Nora had found her sitting alone in the kitchen at three in the morning.
Eleanor had said only one thing.
“I trusted the wrong blood.”
Nora had assumed she meant some old family argument.
Now she understood.
“What did she find?” Nora asked.
Gideon said nothing.
Mercer sank onto an old wooden chair.
Lydia stared at him.
“You drugged my mother.”
Mercer covered his face.
“I didn’t know he was going to leave her like that.”
Gideon snapped, “Shut up.”
“You said she’d sleep for twelve hours. You said we’d move her somewhere safe.”
“Shut up!”
“But when I examined her…” Mercer continued, voice shaking. “Her pulse was so weak. I told him we needed equipment. A hospital. He wouldn’t let me call anyone.”
Lydia looked at Gideon.
“You convinced him she was dead?”
Gideon’s gaze stayed on the metal box.
“No.”
Mercer whispered, “He convinced me it would be better if everyone believed she was.”
Lydia recoiled.