Someone broke into my apartment.
The sentence echoed through my head louder than the reporters.
Louder than the ballroom chaos.
Louder than my own heartbeat.
For one terrifying second, nobody moved.
Then Daniel grabbed my arm again.
Not gently this time.
Urgently.
“We need to leave.”
I pulled away instantly.
“Don’t touch me.”
But his expression didn’t change.
Because this wasn’t about us anymore.
This was fear.
Real fear.
Richard Hart stepped forward sharply.
“Where’s the security footage?”
One of the hotel staff members looked pale.
“The police are reviewing it now.”
Police.
Interesting.
Richard looked irritated by that word.
Very irritated.
And suddenly I remembered what Evelyn said earlier:
Never trust the police.
My stomach tightened immediately.
Daniel noticed my expression.
“Sophia—”
“No.”
I stepped backward slowly.
Because suddenly every person near me felt dangerous.
Daniel.
Richard.
The reporters.
Maybe even the police.
The only person who seemed calm now was Evelyn.
Which honestly terrified me more than the chaos.
She looked at me carefully.
“Did your mother ever keep physical journals?”
The question caught me completely off guard.
“What?”
Evelyn’s eyes sharpened slightly.
“Not files. Journals.”
I stared at her blankly.
Then suddenly remembered.
My chest tightened instantly.
The blue notebook.
My mother carried it everywhere during the last few months before she died.
Small.
Dark blue leather cover.
She used to hide it whenever I walked into the room.
At the time, I thought she was writing about money problems.
Or grief.
Or work stress.
I never imagined—
Oh my God.
“They know about the notebook,” Evelyn whispered.
Daniel immediately looked toward her.
“How?”
Evelyn laughed softly.
Darkly.
“Because Richard’s people spent years looking for it.”
The ballroom froze again.
Not dramatically.
Quietly.
Because suddenly the break-in made perfect sense.
They weren’t looking for jewelry.
Or money.
They were searching for evidence.
Richard’s expression became ice cold.
“You should stop talking.”
Evelyn smiled faintly.
“You should’ve stopped lying years ago.”
The tension between them felt dangerous now.
Personal.
Deeply personal.
And suddenly I realized something else:
Evelyn wasn’t afraid of Richard anymore.
Which meant she already lost everything he could take from her.
Daniel looked exhausted.
Completely exhausted.
“Sophia,” he said carefully, “listen to me very closely.”
I hated that part of me still instinctively listened when he used that tone.
“There are people involved in this you don’t understand yet.”
I crossed my arms tightly.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
For the first time tonight…
Daniel sounded angry again.
Not manipulative.
Not defensive.
Genuinely frustrated.
Good.
I wanted honesty, even ugly honesty.
“You think my father controls everything,” he continued quietly.
“Doesn’t he?”
Daniel hesitated.
And that hesitation frightened me instantly.
Because if Richard Hart wasn’t the most dangerous person involved—
then who was?
A reporter suddenly shoved through security again.
“Miss Bennett!”
Cameras turned immediately.
The reporter held up a phone.
“There are photos from your apartment online.”
My blood turned cold.
“What?”
Daniel swore immediately.
Richard looked murderous.
The reporter turned the screen toward me.
And suddenly the ballroom disappeared again.
My apartment was destroyed.
Furniture overturned.
Glass shattered.
Cabinets ripped open.
Like someone searched every inch of the place.
But that wasn’t what made my stomach drop.
It was the wall.
The living room wall.
Because written across it in black paint were four words:
SHE SHOULD HAVE BURNED IT
My knees nearly gave out.
Daniel caught me before I hit the floor.
This time…
I didn’t pull away immediately.
Because suddenly I couldn’t feel my hands properly.
The notebook.
They were talking about the notebook.
Which meant:
someone believed it still existed.
Evelyn looked horrified now too.
“Your mother kept copies.”
Richard snapped toward her instantly.
“You don’t know that.”
Evelyn stared back coldly.
“No. You’re afraid I do.”
The ballroom erupted again.
Reporters screaming questions.
Security dragging people backward.
Flash after flash after flash.
But I barely heard any of it.
Because suddenly I remembered something else.
A memory so small I buried it for years.
The week before my mother died…
she gave me a silver necklace.
Simple.
Tiny hidden compartment inside.
At the time she smiled and said:
“Keep this safe for me.”
My pulse stopped.
Oh my God.
The necklace.
I looked up at Daniel slowly.
And somehow he knew instantly.
“What?” he asked carefully.
I could barely speak.
“They searched the wrong apartment.”