By dawn, the city had changed.
The first newspaper hit the streets before the rays of the sun peeked from behind the mountain tops—an anonymous tip sent to three major outlets. Judge Malden implicated in money laundering, bribery, and obstruction of justice. Names were redacted. For now.
Vivienne stood at the edge of Rosemoor's library, the curtains drawn back, the sunlight cutting through the dust like golden knives. She was dressed in black slacks, a silk blouse, and low heels. No jewelry. No smile. Just armor.
Damien entered, a file in his hand.
"It's begun," he said. "We stirred the nest."
"I'm ready," she replied, taking the file.
Inside were photos. Documents. Surveillance shots. Receipts. All red-stamped and indexed with coded tabs.
"This isn't a list," she murmured. "It is a reckoning."
Damien leaned against the doorway. "These people built legacies on blood and silence. if you bring them down... you inherit more than enemies."
Vivienne met his gaze. "I never wanted to be a part of their world. I only want the truth."
He studied her for a moment. "Then you should see this."
He handed her another envelope. Smaller. Heavier.
Inside was a worn passport under a different name. Amelia Laurent. A false identity. And a train ticket. Dated ten years ago.
"My mother's," she whispered.
Damien nodded. "I found it in the lining of your father's old desk drawer. She didn't leave empty-handed. She planned to come back."
Vivienne felt her chest tighten. "But she never made it."
"Maybe she's still out there," he said softly. "Maybe someone helped her vanish. She wasn't weak, Vivienne. She knew too much."
Her fingers brushed over the name on the passport. Amelia. She had changed everything but her eyes. In the photo, her mother's gaze was steady. Watchful. Full of fight.
"I need to find her," Vivienne said.
"And if she doesn't want to be found?"
Vivienne's voice was steady. "Then I'll find the reason why."
Damien gave her a long look. "You've changed."
"No," she said. "I've remembered who I am."
She set the envelope aside and opened the red ledger fully for the first time. Her father's notes lined each margin in a slanted hand. Names were underlined in crimson. Some were circled with double rings—the ones he feared most.
At the top of one page was a single name.
Valentin Orséa.
Vivienne's blood chilled.
Damien saw it. "You know him?"
"He was my godfather," she said. "He vanished after my father's death."
"And now?"
"He's alive," Vivienne whispered. "And he's the one pulling strings."
She stood.
"I want every piece of information on Valentin. I want his properties, his guards, his secrets. If he's the king, I'll rip his crown off with my bare hands."
Damien didn't flinch. "It'll be a bloodbath."
Vivienne looked back at him, eyes hard with fire. "Then we'll need more red."