The flame burned down to my skin, the searing pain snapping me out of my trance. I dropped the match into the soaked grass at the edge of the porch, watching the tiny spark extinguish against the damp soil. I stared at the towering oak doors of the Vance estate—a palace built on stolen blood and silence.

Brooke turned her head slowly toward me. The warmth I had known for twenty-two years was completely gone, replaced by a dark, calculating stillness.

"They can't kill a ghost, Mom," she said softly. "They think I'm weak. They think my head injury wiped my memory or left me broken. Victoria came here today to assess whether I was a threat or a liability to be quietly moved to an asylum."

"Then why go back?!"

"Because the evidence that can destroy the entire Vance empire isn't in a police station," Brooke said, reaching out to grasp my arm. Her grip was tight, desperate. "It's inside the floorboards of the master study. Trevor didn't marry me because he loved me, Mom. He married me because my biological father was David Thorne."

The name hit me like a physical blow. The air rushed out of my lungs.

"How do you know that name?" I whispered, my knees trembling.

"I read the trust documents in Trevor’s safe three weeks ago," Brooke revealed, her voice dropping. "David Thorne left fifty-one percent of Thorne Global Logistics in a blind trust for his illegitimate child. The day I turn twenty-five, or the day I bear a child with a Vance heir, that equity transfers to the husband's family. That’s why Trevor married me. That’s why Victoria tolerated me. And that’s why they tried to kill me last night—because I found out."

My mind raced. David Thorne was a secret I had buried two decades ago, a dark chapter from my youth that I swore would never touch my daughter. But the Vances had known all along. They had hunted my daughter down, groomed her, married her, and were now trying to steal her inheritance while ending her life.

"If you go back there, Trevor will hide the documents," I realized aloud.

"No," Brooke smiled—a cold, terrifying expression. "If I go back, Trevor will panic. He will try to cover his tracks, and when he does, he will hand me the key himself. But I can't do it alone, Mom. I need you inside that house with me."

An hour later, Victoria re-entered the room, her smile as polished as a tombstone.

"The private ambulance is ready, Brooke," Victoria declared. "Trevor is waiting at home. We've hired round-the-clock nurses."

"My mother comes with me," Brooke said flatly, pointing at me. "As my primary caregiver. If she doesn't stay in the main house, I stay here and give a full statement to the local news crew currently waiting in the lobby."

Victoria’s jaw tightened. The refined facade cracked for a split second, revealing the predator underneath.

"Of course," Victoria said through gritted teeth. "Family belongs together."

Two hours later, my truck pulled up behind the Vance family's limousine as we entered the massive wrought-iron gates of the estate. The mansion towered over us, cold and majestic. Only hours ago, I had stood on this very porch with a match in my hand.

Now, I was walking through the front doors as a guest.

As we stepped into the grand foyer, Trevor Vance was standing at the bottom of the curved staircase. He wore a crisp linen shirt, but his hands were shaking as he held a glass of bourbon. His eyes were bloodshot, panic flickering behind his handsome face when his gaze met Brooke’s.

"Brooke..." Trevor stammered, taking a step forward. "Baby... I was so worried. The police said you vanished from the estate..."

Brooke walked straight up to him. She didn't flinch. She didn't hesitate. She stopped just inches from his chest, looked into his eyes, and leaned in close.

"You missed a spot on the silver, Trevor," she whispered, her voice carrying across the silent foyer.

Trevor’s face drained of all color. He dropped his glass. It shattered against the marble floor, bathing his expensive leather shoes in amber liquid and sharp glass—a mirror image of the scene in the hospital room.