“Is that her?” she shrieked, her voice cracking. “Is my daughter alive?”

Liam pulled his arm away, his face hard.

“Stay back, Beatrice,” he said.

I looked at the message again, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“Who sent this, Liam?” I asked.

“It’s an blocked number,” he whispered, his eyes scanning the dark rafters above us.

Another loud creak sounded from the ceiling, directly over the stage.

We stood frozen, listening to the dust settle around us.

“We have to get her out,” Beatrice wept, though her tears felt cold and calculated. “You did this, Audrey. Your obsession with the past did this to my Chloe.”

“You did this when you stole my family’s legacy, Aunt Beatrice,” I said, my voice steady despite the trembling in my hands.

“I did what I had to do to survive,” she hissed.

Liam stepped between us, his phone still gripped tightly in his palm.

“We don’t have time for this,” Liam said.

He tapped the screen, his thumbs moving quickly.

“Who are you texting?” I asked.

“Maren,” he said quietly.