The blue room felt like a beautiful cage.
Sophia sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the Isabella Ashford file. Every page revealed more disturbing details. Isabella hadn't just disappeared—she had been found dead in the river three months later.
The official report called it suicide. But the private investigator's notes told a different story. There were signs of struggle. Unexplained injuries. Missing evidence that had mysteriously vanished from police files.
Someone had killed Isabella Ashford. Someone powerful enough to cover it up.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
"Come in."
She expected James, but Alexander stepped through the door. He had changed again, this time into dark pants and a white shirt. Even in casual clothes, he looked dangerous.
"You've been reading."
He nodded toward the scattered papers.
"Why didn't you tell me she was murdered?"
"Because I wasn't sure you could handle it."
Alexander moved to the window and looked out at the dark gardens.
"Now I need to know everything about that necklace."
"I already told you. It was my mother's."
"No. You told me what you believed. Now I need facts."
His voice was cold again. The brief moment of vulnerability from earlier was gone.
"I don't have any other facts."
"Then we need to find some."
Alexander turned back to her.
"Tomorrow we're visiting the orphanage where you lived. Someone there might remember details about your arrival."
"Why does it matter so much?"
"Because whoever killed Isabella might still be alive. And if you really are her daughter, you could be next."
The words sent ice through Sophia's veins.
"You think someone wants to kill me?"
"I think someone arranged for you to be here. In this house. Wearing that necklace. The question is why."
Alexander walked to the door.
"Get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."
"Wait."
Sophia stood up quickly.
"Where are you going?"
"To make some calls. There are people who need to know about tonight's developments."
"What kind of people?"
Alexander's smile was cold.
"The kind you don't want to meet."
After he left, Sophia tried to sleep. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw Isabella's face in the photographs. The resemblance was impossible to ignore. They looked exactly alike.
But how was that possible? The dates didn't match up. Isabella had died twenty years ago, when Sophia was just a baby. If Isabella was her mother, who had raised her for those first few years?
Around midnight, she heard voices from downstairs. Alexander was talking to someone, but she couldn't make out the words. Then she heard a car driving away.
The house fell silent again.
Sophia got up and walked to the window. The Blackwood estate stretched out in all directions, surrounded by high walls and iron gates. In the moonlight, it looked like a fortress.
Or a prison.
She touched the necklace at her throat. Such a small thing to cause so much trouble. But somehow, she couldn't bring herself to take it off. It was the only connection she had to her past.
The next morning, James brought breakfast to her room.
"Mr. Blackwood had to leave early. He said to tell you he'll be back this afternoon."
"Where did he go?"
James hesitated.
"I'm not sure it's my place to say."
"Please. I need to know what's happening."
The old man looked at her for a long moment. Then he set down the breakfast tray and closed the door.
"He went to see Detective Morrison. The man who investigated Isabella's death twenty years ago."
Sophia's heart skipped.
"Is he still working on the case?"
"No. He retired years ago. But Mr. Blackwood thinks he might have kept some unofficial records."
James walked to the window and peered out through the curtains.
"The reporters are still out there. Word has spread about the wedding."
"What are they saying?"
"That Alexander Blackwood married a mystery woman. No one knows who you are or where you came from."
James turned back to her.
"That's good for now. It means whoever arranged this hasn't revealed their hand yet."
"You think someone arranged this too?"
"Mrs. Ashford, I've worked for the Blackwood family for thirty years. I know when something isn't right."
The way he said 'Mrs. Ashford' made Sophia's blood run cold.
"You think I'm Isabella's daughter."
"I think you look exactly like the woman I used to serve tea to every afternoon. The woman who disappeared three days before she was supposed to become mistress of this house."
James sat down in the chair by the window.
"Isabella was kind. Gentle. She loved children and animals. She was going to turn this dark old house into a home."
"What happened to her?"
"That's what we've been trying to figure out for twenty years."
James's voice was sad.
"Master Alexander was just eight years old when she vanished. He waited by the front door every day for months, thinking she would come back."
Sophia felt her heart break a little. She could picture a small boy waiting for someone who would never return.
"His father never recovered. He became bitter and cold. The business consumed him. He died five years ago, still believing Isabella had abandoned him."
"But you don't think she left willingly."
"Isabella loved Master Richard. She would never have hurt him like that."
James stood up and walked to the door.
"Be careful, Mrs. Ashford. History has a way of repeating itself in this house."
After James left, Sophia tried to piece together what she knew. Isabella had disappeared twenty years ago. Sophia was approximately twenty years old, though she'd never been certain of her exact birth date.
The timing was right. But if Isabella was her mother, who was her father? And how had she ended up in an orphanage instead of with family?
She needed more information. And she needed it before Alexander returned with whatever Detective Morrison had told him.
Sophia dressed quickly and left her room. The house was larger than she'd realized. Corridors branched off in all directions, lined with portraits of stern-faced Blackwood ancestors.
She found what she was looking for on the second floor. Alexander's study had a second entrance through a sitting room. If he kept any personal files about Isabella, they would be there.
The study was exactly as they'd left it the night before. Sophia went straight to the desk and started opening drawers.
Most contained business documents and contracts. But in the bottom drawer, she found a locked metal box.
The lock was old-fashioned. Sophia looked around the room and spotted a letter opener on the bookshelf. After a few minutes of careful work, the lock clicked open.
Inside the box were more photographs of Isabella. But these were different from the ones in the file. These were personal. Intimate.
Isabella laughing at a picnic. Isabella reading a book in the garden. Isabella dancing with a tall, dark-haired man who must have been Alexander's father.
At the bottom of the box was a letter. The envelope was addressed to Richard Blackwood in Isabella's handwriting. But it had never been opened.
Sophia's hands shook as she broke the seal.
*My dearest Richard,*
*If you are reading this, then something has happened to me. I pray I am wrong about the danger, but I cannot ignore the signs any longer.*
*There are things about my past that I never told you. Things I thought were buried forever. But someone knows my secrets, and they are using them against me.*
*I was not born Isabella Ashford. That name was given to me when I was sixteen, after my real family was killed. The people who murdered them are still looking for me.*
*I have hidden something that belongs to them. Something they will kill for. If anything happens to me, you must find it before they do.*
*Look for the silver heart. It holds the key to everything.*
*I love you more than life itself. Please forgive me for the lies.*
*Forever yours,*
*Isabella*
Sophia's heart was pounding. The silver heart. Isabella was talking about the necklace.
But what did it hold? And what were these people looking for?
She heard footsteps in the corridor outside. Quickly, she put everything back in the box and locked it. She had just slipped the letter into her pocket when the study door opened.
Alexander stood there, his face dark with anger.
"What are you doing in here?"
"I was looking for you. James said you'd returned."
"I've been back for ten minutes. James told me exactly where you were."
Alexander stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
"Did you find what you were looking for?"
Sophia's mouth went dry. How much did he know?
"I don't know what you mean."
"Don't lie to me. I can see the dust patterns on my desk. Someone went through the drawers."
He moved closer, his blue eyes cold and dangerous.
"I told you to be careful. Breaking into my private files isn't careful."
"I needed to know the truth."
"The truth about what?"
Sophia pulled Isabella's letter from her pocket.
"About this."
Alexander's face went white when he saw the envelope.
"Where did you get that?"
"From the metal box in your desk."
"That letter was never opened."
"I know. I opened it."
Alexander snatched the letter from her hands and read it quickly. With each line, his expression grew darker.
"This changes everything."
He looked up at her with new suspicion.
"Isabella wasn't who we thought she was. And if you're her daughter, then you're not who you think you are either."
"What do you mean?"
"Isabella was running from someone. Someone who killed her family. And now they might be after you."
Alexander walked to the window and looked out at the reporters still gathered at the gates.
"We need to leave. Now."
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere safe while I figure out what Isabella hid and who's been looking for it."
"The necklace. She mentions a silver heart in the letter."
Alexander turned back to her.
"Show me."
Sophia lifted the pendant from beneath her shirt. In the daylight, she could see details she'd missed before. The heart wasn't just decorative. There were tiny markings around the edges. And the key inside wasn't just ornamental either.
Alexander took out a magnifying glass from his desk drawer.
"There's something engraved here. Numbers."
He squinted at the pendant.
"It looks like coordinates."
"Coordinates to what?"
"That's what we're going to find out."
A loud crash came from downstairs, followed by shouting.
Alexander grabbed Sophia's arm.
"Someone's in the house."
They heard James calling out, then the sound of running footsteps.
"The back stairs. Move."
Alexander pulled her toward a door she hadn't noticed before. It opened onto a narrow servants' staircase.
"Where does this lead?"
"The garage. My car is there."
They made it down two flights before they heard voices above them.
"They're in the house. They know we're here."
Alexander pushed her faster down the stairs.
"Who are they?"
"The same people who killed Isabella. They've finally made their move."
They reached the garage just as they heard the servants' door slam open above them.
Alexander's car was a black sports car, built for speed. He had them out of the garage and racing down the back drive before Sophia could even put on her seatbelt.
In the rearview mirror, she saw men in dark suits running from the house.
"They're following us."
Alexander pressed the accelerator harder.
"Let them try."
They reached the main road doing ninety miles per hour. Alexander took a sharp turn that threw Sophia against the passenger door.
"Where are we going?"
"To find out what your necklace unlocks. And to figure out who wants us dead."
Sophia looked back at Blackwood Manor as it disappeared behind the trees. She had been there less than twenty-four hours, but it had changed everything.
Now she was running for her life with a man she barely knew, wearing a necklace that might hold the key to a twenty-year-old murder.
And somewhere behind them, people who had killed before were hunting them down.
The game had begun. And Sophia was no longer just a pawn.
She was the prize.