The slap came so hard that Emma Lawson tasted blood before she understood she had been hit.

The revelation hung in the cold, damp air of the subterranean chamber like a heavy shroud.

Victor took two steps toward Julian, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. "What did you say?"

"She never made it to the boat," Julian repeated, his body trembling violently. "I saw them, Victor. I saw Father and Richard Sterling loading a heavy canvas roll into the trunk of Eleanor’s car at three in the morning. They told me she had gone ahead to the marina. But the next day, they announced that the yacht had exploded three miles offshore due to a engine fuel leak."

Marcus Vance lowered his weapon slightly, looking at Victor with rare shock. "Boss... if Mrs. Blackwood never boarded that yacht, then the explosion was just a cover-up to destroy evidence."

"Where is she buried, Julian?" Victor asked, his voice deathly quiet.

"I don't know!" Julian cried. "I swear on my life, I don't know! I was terrified! Father told me that if I ever breathed a word of what I saw, he would ensure I spent the rest of my life in a state psychiatric facility! After he died five years ago, Eleanor kept reminding me of what happened. She used it to control my vote on the board!"

Emma looked at the server equipment on the desk, then back at Victor. "Mr. Blackwood... if Julian didn't plant the bug under your mother's chair, then someone else has been listening to this house for an entirely different reason."

Victor turned his gaze back to Emma. "Explain."

"Julian was bugging your office to steal financial data for Sterling-Vane," Emma reasoned, her mind working with razor-sharp speed. "He wanted money. But the bug under the chair in the dining room... that wasn't placed to steal corporate secrets. It was placed there by someone who wanted to know if you had ever discovered the truth about what happened in that room twelve years ago."

Victor slowly turned his head toward the stairs leading back up to the main mansion.

"Richard Sterling," Victor said softly.

"And Eleanor," Emma added.

"Marcus," Victor ordered, his voice devoid of all human emotion. "Secure my brother in the lower holding cells. Take his devices. Then bring Richard Sterling and my stepmother to the grand study."

"Right away, sir," Marcus said, grabbing Julian by the arm and hauling him away through the damp tunnel.

Victor stood alone in the cavern with Emma. The sound of the ocean crashing against the rocks outside seemed louder now, like the roar of a beast waiting to consume the house above.

Victor looked at Emma. "You knew, didn't you?"

Emma blinked. "Knew what, sir?"

"You didn't stumble upon that bug by accident today," Victor said, taking a step toward her. His gray eyes searched her face with terrifying intensity. "No maid, no matter how meticulous, pulls a forbidden twelve-year-old chair out four inches just to fetch a silver spoon."

Emma met his gaze without flinching.

"Who are you really, Emma Lawson?" Victor asked.

Emma reached into the collar of her black dress and pulled out a small silver chain hidden beneath her fabric. Suspended from the chain was a worn, tarnished silver signet ring bearing the crest of the Lawson family—a crest that had once belonged to Victoria Blackwood’s younger sister.

"My name is Emma Lawson," she said quietly. "Victoria Blackwood was my aunt. Before she died twelve years ago, she sent a letter to my mother containing a copy of the trust deeds. My mother died in a suspicious house fire six months later, and I was placed in the St. Jude Orphanage under a hidden identity."

Victor stared at the signet ring. The blood drain from his face as he recognized the family crest.

"You came here for revenge," Victor said.

"I came here for the truth," Emma corrected him. "I thought you were part of the cover-up, Mr. Blackwood. I thought you were keeping that chair in the dining room as a sick trophy of your family's dark secret. That's why I took the job as a maid three weeks ago. I needed to inspect that chair myself."

Victor closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting out a long, heavy breath. When he opened them again, the cold detachment in his gaze had been replaced by a fierce, burning resolve.

"My mother was the only person in this family who possessed a conscience," Victor said softly. "I kept that chair untouched for twelve years because it was the last place I saw her alive before she vanished into the night. I didn't know she was murdered in this house."