Chapter 11. Foundations Beneath Fire
The rain hadn’t stopped for two days.
It drummed relentlessly against the windows of the estate, a rhythm that matched the chaotic beat of Elara’s mind. Outside, the gardens were soaked petals sagging under the weight of water, vines tangled like secrets. Inside, the fire in the grand hearth did little to chase away the chill she carried inside her ribs.
She stood at the center of her childhood home, the once-golden heart of the Vance legacy, and realized that everything she’d ever believed about her past was built on foundations that had already started to burn.
Her mother’s letter rested on the table beside her.
Trust what he does. Not what he says.
She kept reading that line.
And still, Damien’s actions were a riddle carved in stone, hard, cold, and unreadable until it was too late.
She had spent the night in the east wing, locked in her father’s study. A storm of ledgers, photos, and encrypted digital drives now covered every surface. She hadn’t slept, only worked, her body on autopilot, sustained by coffee and the slow burn of revelation.
By dawn, she had traced enough shell companies and paper trails to know this much: the destruction of Vance Corp. hadn’t just been sabotage.
It had been surgical.
Multiple parties had played a role.