“You knew,” I said.
His eyes met mine.
“No.”
But the answer came too late.
Noah looked up at his mother.
“Mom?”
Claire gripped the back of a chair.
“Where did you find him?” she asked Adrian.
“I told you—”
“Where?”
He glanced toward Noah.
Claire’s voice broke.
“Where did Julian die?”
Adrian did not answer.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
Everyone turned.
Priya opened it.
Daniel stood in the corridor, breathing hard, holding a sealed envelope.
“This was delivered to the front desk for Elena,” he said.
“For me?”
“There’s no sender.”
He handed it over.
My name was written across the front in black ink.
Not Elena Carter.
Elena Blackwood.
Marcus was one of the few people in Adrian’s world who used that name.
But the handwriting was not his.
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed Adrian standing outside a train station beside a man with the same dark eyes and familiar slant of the shoulders.
