The air in the subterranean cellar tasted of old concrete and damp earth.

My boots clicked against the cold stone steps as I went deeper into the darkness of the estate.

I held a heavy tactical flashlight in my left hand.

The beam sliced through the shadows, landing on a slumped figure tied to a wooden chair near the vintage wine racks.

It was Nora.

Her face was swollen, a dark purple bruise blooming across her left cheekbone.

I hurried forward and knelt beside her, cutting the thick zip-ties around her wrists with my pocketknife.

“Adrian,” she whispered, her voice dry and cracked.

“Who did this to you?” I asked.

I rubbed her cold wrists to bring the circulation back.

“Caleb,” she said, coughing lightly.

“Caleb Bennett?” I asked, my chest tightening with disbelief.

He had been my trusted lieutenant for seventeen years, the man who knew all my secrets.

“He wasn’t alone,” Nora said, gripping my sleeve with her trembling fingers.

“Elena helped him get inside the private quarters.”

Elena was the quiet house assistant we had trusted to manage the upper floors.

“Why?” I asked, looking around the dark vault. “What did they want from you?”

Nora looked down at the cold floor, tears welling in her eyes and dripping onto her torn apron.

“They took Lila,” she said.

My heart hammered against my ribs at the mention of the little girl.

Lila was Nora’s four-year-old daughter, a bright child who often played with wooden blocks in the library.

“We will find her, Nora,” I said, helping her stand up from the wooden chair.

“I will tear this city apart to bring her back to you.”

“You don’t understand, Adrian,” she said, her grip tightening on my wool coat.

She looked directly into my eyes, her gaze fierce despite her pain.

“Lila is your daughter.”

The basement seemed to grow instantly colder.

“What are you saying?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“She is yours,” Nora said, her voice trembling.

“I kept it from you to protect her from your enemies and this violent life.”

“She has your eyes, Adrian.”