Then he said:
“Yes.”
The word seemed to echo.
Richard closed his eyes.
Daniel's hand moved toward his weapon.
I stopped him.
“Tell me everything.”
Martin looked at me.
“You don't want everything.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
He smiled sadly.
“You have your father's stubbornness.”
“And you have his blood on your conscience.”
His smile disappeared.
“You think I wanted him dead?”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then why did he die?”
Martin looked at the floor.
“Because someone panicked.”
“Who?”
“James.”
I already knew.
But hearing it confirmed something inside me.
“What happened?”
Martin took a breath.
“Your father discovered the financial network. He confronted James.”
“Then?”
“James threatened him.”
“Your father refused.”
“Yes.”
“What happened next?”
“Your father prepared evidence.”
“The files in this room?”
“Some of them.”
“What happened to the rest?”
“Evelyn took them.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“You were the architect.”
His face changed.
“You found that.”
“Yes.”
“You shouldn't have.”
“I found more.”
I held up the key.
“You knew about Room 417.”
“Yes.”
“You knew my father recorded everything.”
“Yes.”
“You knew he suspected James.”
“Yes.”
“And you still worked for the company.”
Martin looked at me.
“I worked for your father.”
“He died.”
“And I stayed to protect what he built.”
“You stayed to protect yourself.”
Martin's eyes hardened.
“You have no idea what I sacrificed.”
“Then tell me.”
He laughed bitterly.
“I sacrificed my conscience.”
The room became silent.
Martin continued.
“James had people everywhere.”
“So?”
“So if I fought him openly, I would lose.”
“You could have told me.”
“You were twenty-six.”
“I was capable.”
“You were vulnerable.”
“I was his daughter.”
“Exactly.”
I stared at him.
“You thought I was weak.”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I thought you were worth protecting.”
That sentence hit me harder than I expected.
Because it was the same excuse Richard had given.
Protection.
Everyone had claimed to protect me.
And everyone had lied.
“What happened the night my father died?”
Martin looked at the floor.
“Your father left this office at eleven thirty.”
“Alone?”
“No.”
“Who was with him?”
“James.”
“And you?”
“I was here.”
“Did you follow them?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“The garage.”
“What happened?”
Martin's voice became quiet.
“Your father got into his car.”
“Then?”
“James stood beside the driver's window.”
“What did he say?”
“I couldn't hear.”
“Then?”
“Your father drove away.”
“And James?”
“Left.”
I looked at him.
“What did you do?”
“I went after him.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew something was wrong.”
“Did you call the police?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid.”
Again.
That word.
Afraid.
Everyone had been afraid.
My father.
Richard.
Martin.
Evelyn.
Graham.
And while they were afraid, someone had been building power.
“Where did James go?”
Martin looked at me.
“To meet someone.”
“Who?”
“Graham.”
I stared.
“Graham?”
“Yes.”
“But Graham was working for my father.”
“He was working for both sides.”
I felt sick.
“Why?”
“Money.”
“Of course.”
Martin nodded.
“Graham was supposed to hand over the evidence.”
“To James?”
“Yes.”
“But he didn't.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Evelyn got there first.”
I froze.
“Evelyn?”
“She took the evidence.”
“Where did she go?”
“I don't know.”
“Then how did she die?”
Martin looked at me.
“She knew too much.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did James kill her?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Did Graham?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Martin shook his head.
“I don't know.”
I didn't believe him.
But before I could push further, the building's fire alarm began screaming.
Daniel looked toward the door.
“What is happening?”
Martin's face changed.
“Someone found us.”
“What?”
“The archive room.”
A smell reached us.
Smoke.
Someone had started a fire.
Daniel grabbed my arm.
“We're leaving.”
“No.”
“Maya.”
“My father's files—”
“We have the copies.”
“The originals—”
“We don't have time.”
He pulled me toward the door.
Richard followed.
Martin remained behind.
I looked back.
“What are you doing?”
He stared at me.
“Finishing what your father started.”
He pushed a cabinet away from the wall.
Behind it was another door.
“Go!”
We ran.
The corridor filled with smoke.
Alarms screamed.
People shouted downstairs.
The hotel's perfect lobby was disappearing behind us.
And as we reached the service entrance, I heard a massive crash behind us.
Fire.
Flames climbed through the old wing.
The archive was burning.
My father's secrets were being destroyed.
But not all of them.
Because I still had the flash drive.
And Martin had just shown me something more important.
A second hidden door.
A second layer.
A second secret.
And I knew one thing now.
This had never been just about money.
It was about control.
And someone was willing to burn an entire hotel to keep me from discovering the truth.
The Man Who Owned the Board
The fire was contained within forty minutes.
No guests were seriously injured.
Two employees suffered minor smoke inhalation.
The old archive was destroyed.
By morning, news crews were outside.
“Electrical fault,” the official statement said.
I stood in the hotel lobby watching reporters through the glass.
I didn't believe it.
Neither did Daniel.
“Someone started that fire,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Security footage?”
“Partially destroyed.”
“Convenient.”
I nodded.
Then James Whitmore arrived.
He walked into the lobby as if nothing had happened.
Gray suit.