Rain tapped the glass like tiny warnings.
Geraldine stood in the attic, a place she rarely visited. Dust coated every box, but today something called her here—an itch she couldn't ignore. She opened a weathered trunk labeled in her mother's handwriting.
Inside was a sealed envelope addressed to her.
My Dearest Geri,
*If you're reading this, it means you've started asking questions. That means you're ready. But be careful, my love. Your husband didn't marry you for love. He married you for legacy—your father's.
The truth is hidden in the Blue Vault. Follow the roses. And trust no one.
—Mother
Geraldine stared at the letter, heart thudding. "The Blue Vault?"
Behind the envelope was a faded photograph—her father in a military uniform, standing beside Lachlan Valez's father.
Her hand shook. "They knew each other."
Downstairs, Tracy was tending to a scrape on Reena's leg from school. "She got into a fight," Tracy whispered. "A boy called her dad 'The Devil of Dominion.' She asked me what that meant."
Geraldine's spine chilled.
Dominion.
She remembered the name—once whispered during her childhood. A brotherhood of men who moved through politics and power like smoke, erasing whoever got in their way. It had always seemed like a myth.
But myths don't send drones.
And they don't bomb your home.
That night, Geraldine confronted Lachlan.
"You said you didn't know my father."
He didn't flinch. "I said I didn't remember him. There's a difference."
She threw the photo at him. "So explain this."
Lachlan picked up the image. His face was unreadable. "My father died because of Dominion. So did yours."
"Bekett killed him."
"Bekett was just the front. Dominion pulls the strings. And your family? You were supposed to inherit the vault."
"What vault?"
He leaned in, low and dark. "The Blue Vault. Your father hid a failsafe inside it. Something Dominion would kill to keep buried."
She inhaled sharply. "Then we dig it up."
And just like that, the game changed.