He also contacted the insurance company, but no payment could occur without a legal finding of death.

Grant had not become rich.

Not yet.

Nathan returned to Cedar Ridge with investigators after firefighters contained the ruins. Inside the tunnel, they found a heat-resistant metal box secured behind a stone panel.

He brought it to my hospital room.

The small key was hidden inside my mother’s locket.

Within the box were company records, an amended trust, and three sealed letters. One carried my name.

My hands shook as I opened it.

My dearest Lena,

If you are reading this, then I waited too long to tell you the truth.

My mother described Grant asking unusual questions about Cedar Ridge during the final months of her life. He wanted the original blueprints, information about the propane system, and details about the satellite alarm.

When she challenged him, he claimed he was planning renovations.

She had not believed him.

The amended trust prevented Grant from exercising my voting rights if I disappeared under suspicious circumstances. Control would temporarily pass to an independent trustee while my ownership remained intact.

Noah was named as my contingent heir.

Grant could not take Northstar simply by convincing people I was dead.

Nathan watched me read.

“Evelyn contacted me two months before she died,” he said. “She admitted the baby had survived. She said I had a daughter, but she asked me not to approach you until she explained everything herself.”

“Why didn’t she?”

“She died three weeks later.”

He had written to me repeatedly after her funeral. I had never received a single letter.

Before I could ask where they had gone, I reached the final paragraph on my mother’s first page.

One sentence had been underlined twice.

If Grant ever takes you back to Cedar Ridge, do not trust the fire.

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