Chapter 8 Broken Glass

The house was too quiet.

It was nearly midnight, and the Vaughn estate, so often filled with curated elegance and soft footsteps, now pulsed with silence. Isabella stood barefoot at the edge of the corridor, her silk robe brushing the wooden floors as she stared toward the door of her father's study.

Something had woken her.

Not a sound, exactly-but a shift. A presence.

She felt it deep in her bones. Like the air itself was holding its breath.

Her feet moved before her mind could catch up.

The lock on the study door had been untouched for years-Celeste made sure of that. After their father's death, she sealed it shut with an air of reverence Isabella had never trusted.

But now...

The lock was undone.

Isabella pushed the door slowly. It creaked open just enough for a sliver of moonlight to spill across the floor.

She stepped inside.

The air was dense-faintly laced with cedarwood, aged leather, and something colder. The room hadn't changed. Books lined the walls in neat rows, the heavy curtains drawn, the desk still grand and silent.

But something was wrong.

The drawer to the right of the desk sat half-open. A pen lay on the floor. And in the far corner-shattered glass.

Her heart sank.

She moved toward it cautiously and crouched beside the glinting fragments. It had once been a framed photograph-now cracked, broken, and discarded. She picked up the largest piece still intact.

It was a family photo.

She was twelve. Celeste fifteen. Their father stood between them, arms protectively around both.

But half of it was gone. Torn away cleanly.

Her mother's face-ripped out. Erased.

Isabella's breath caught.

She glanced at the bookshelves, half-expecting someone to still be hiding behind the shadows. But the room was empty now-whoever had come was already gone.

Still, something else tugged at her.

She moved to the desk. Her fingers brushed the drawer's edge, then slid underneath. Her father had always kept a secret mechanism-something she barely remembered from childhood.

There.

A small notch.

She pressed.

Click.

A narrow compartment slid open from the back of the drawer.

Inside was a folded note sealed in wax. Her father's handwriting. The seal bore the Vaughn crest.

Her name was on the envelope.

Isabella.

If found-trust no one until you read this. Not even Celeste.

Her fingers trembled as she broke the seal and unfolded the paper.

---

> Isabella,

If this has reached you, then I've failed to shield you from what's coming.

I built Vaughn Group with ambition-but ambition is hungry. It consumes faster than loyalty can survive.

There are ledgers I've hidden-truths in ink that could destroy people.

If I disappear, find the ledger marked Indigo. And be careful with those you love.

Celeste... I wish I could explain. But you'll have to see for yourself. Look closer.

I'm sorry I didn't tell you everything sooner. Protect yourself, even from those who wear your name.

-Dad

---

Isabella's eyes blurred.

She read it again. And again. Her father hadn't left clues out of paranoia-he had known someone was closing in. That someone close might betray everything.

A floorboard creaked behind her.

She turned, sharp and fast-but nothing moved.

Still, the hairs on her arms rose. Her breathing slowed.

She slipped the letter into her robe pocket and closed the drawer. Locked it. Then she crouched down, picked up the torn frame, and wrapped it in the silk scarf from the desk drawer.

A photograph didn't shatter on its own.

Someone had been here.

Someone wanted her to know it.

When she stepped out into the hallway, the lights remained dim. But the silence was different now-watchful. Heavy.

She paused just outside the study.

Then locked the door behind her.

Her mind echoed with her father's words:

Protect yourself. Even from those who wear your name.