Fin walked down the long corridor of the Main House, his steps steady and unhurried. The broken man who had collapsed in the hall was gone. The moment the heavy doors had closed behind him, his face had returned to a calm, unreadable neutrality. No tears. No trembling. Only cold calculation.
The Echo team followed a few paces behind, their expressions carefully controlled, though confusion flickered in a few pairs of eyes. They said nothing. Their job was to observe and obey.
When Fin reached the door to his private wing, he stopped and turned to face them. Most of the team kept their heads lowered. Only Echo One and Echo Two met his gaze without flinching.
"You do not need to feel guilty," Fin said, his voice quiet but sharp. "I admire your loyalty to my mother. But I will not allow conflicted loyalty the next time I give an order. Let this be the last time."
Echo One gave a faint nod of approval, then turned to the rest of the team. His voice cut through the corridor like a blade.
"Reply to the Master."
The others straightened immediately.
"Yes, Master."
Fin nodded once.
"Call Marcus here."
He entered his room and closed the door behind him. The moment he was alone, the cold mask remained, but a quiet fury burned beneath it. His phone rang. Lila's name lit the screen.
Fin answered and calmly explained everything that had happened in the hall.
A short silence followed on the other end.
"And what did you do?" Lila asked carefully.
Fin walked toward the couch, a faint, humorless smile touching his lips.
"I did what they expected. I cried. I broke. I looked devastated."
Lila let out a soft, almost admiring laugh.
"My, my… You are learning fast, darling."
Fin exhaled slowly and sat down.
"I expected Dominus to strike after I refused to walk the path he laid out for me. But I never expected him to touch my mother."
Lila's voice softened slightly.
"But why did your mother agree to something so absurd?"
Fin's fingers drummed lightly against the arm of the couch.
"I don't know the exact reason yet… but it must be something related to me. I know my mother well enough. She would never make a move like this unless she believed it protected me."
"But if Dominus had to go this far," Lila said, "why did he wait this long?"
Fin's eyes narrowed.
"Exactly. Why did he wait this long?"
He stood up and walked to the hidden case built into the wall of his study. He opened it and found the black card Dominus had given him still resting where he had left it. Just as his fingers closed around it, his gaze caught the small LED screen locked to the side of the vault — a counter that recorded every time it had been opened.
It read 81.
Fin's hand paused. His eyes narrowed further.
He clearly remembered the number had been 79 the last time he opened it. And he had been away from the mansion for days.
"Someone opened my vault," he muttered.
Still holding the phone to his ear, Fin moved to the secondary console attached to the wing's security system. His private room had no cameras, but the vault did. He pulled up the access logs.
The last two openings were clearly recorded.
Marianne.
Fin's face darkened as he watched the footage of her photographing the card and the documents Dominus had given him about Mike's family.
Lila's voice came through the speaker again, quieter this time.
"What are you going to do now, Fin?"
Fin stared at the frozen image of Marianne on the screen, his expression unreadable.
"First I need to deal with her," he said quietly. "But more importantly, I need to find out what Dominus is holding over my mother. Something forced her into this."
Lila's voice came through the phone, calm and thoughtful.
"The only real lead we have is Mike's mother. But I don't think that will give us the answers we're looking for. If anything, it might just raise more questions. Dominus wouldn't have given you that file if it pointed straight to the truth."
She paused for a moment.
"How about this? You focus on your mother and Marianne. I'll handle Mike's mother."
Fin's brow furrowed slightly.
"Are you sure about that?"
Lila laughed softly, the sound low and confident.
"Don't worry. Every woman has a weakness. I'm sure she does too. Once I find it, the rest will be easy."
Fin exhaled slowly.
"Alright. Stay in contact with the private detective. I'll take care of things on my end."
The call ended.
A moment later, there was a single knock on the door. Marcus entered. His face still carried the same defeated look from earlier. Fin already knew the reason, so he said nothing about it.
Marcus walked to the desk and stood straight.
"You called for me, Master Fin."
Fin looked at him for a long second.
"I'm only going to ask you once, Uncle. Did you know anything about this… or not?"
Marcus's jaw tightened.
"Do you really think if I had known, I would have let it happen?"
Fin's gaze remained cold.
"And you're still not going to tell me what happened to my father? Because the only secret my mother has ever truly kept from me is about him."
Marcus stayed silent for several seconds.
"I'm sorry, Fin. I can't say anything. I promised Madam."
Fin let out a short, humorless breath.
"So you finally admit something did happen."
He leaned back in his chair.
"Anyway. Any news on Mike?"
Marcus nodded once.
"You don't need to worry about that. The government is running an operation. Everyone involved will be taken soon."
Fin's brows rose slightly.
"Doesn't that seem strange? We've been chasing them for weeks, and suddenly the government knows exactly where they are while we're still in the dark?"
Marcus hesitated.
"I believe Madam had a hand in it. I don't know the details, but the person who authorized the operation is one of our people inside the government."
Fin laughed quietly, the sound sharp and empty.
"I don't even understand her anymore."
He stood up and looked at Marcus directly.
"Do you know anything about that guy… Julian?"
Marcus's face tightened. He controlled the anger that flashed in his eyes and remained silent.
Fin understood he would get nothing more. He waved a hand toward the door.
"Alright. You can leave. But when you have Mike, bring him to me. I still have unfinished business with him."
Marcus nodded once, then turned and left the room with slumped shoulders. The once-strong and proud man who had protected the Harrington family for decades looked smaller than Fin had ever seen him.
The door closed softly behind him.
Fin stood alone in the quiet room, staring at the frozen image of Marianne still glowing on the screen.
His eyes darkened.
"Now," he murmured to himself, "let's start with you."
Eleanor's Drawing Room
The private drawing room was quiet except for the soft sound of a brush against canvas. Eleanor stood before a large easel, her posture still elegant, but the usual precision in her movements was gone. The painting in front of her — a landscape of the Harrington gardens — had already begun to lose its balance. The colors were slightly off, the lines less controlled.
Suddenly her hand slipped.
The brush dragged a harsh, unwanted streak across the canvas. Eleanor froze, staring at the damage. In her mind, the image of Fin's face in the hall rose unbidden — the broken expression, the tears, the way he had collapsed to the floor after she shielded Julian.
She threw the brush across the room. It struck a side table, sending a small vase of flowers crashing to the floor. Paint-stained water spread across the marble. A few tubes of oil paint rolled from their tray and left dark smudges on the rug.
Eleanor exhaled heavily, the sound rough in the silence. She walked toward the tall windows that overlooked the wide gardens. Her throat felt tight. Breathing became more difficult with every step. A single tear slid down her cheek before she could stop it. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, but the emptiness remained.
It had been a long time since she had felt this helpless. The same ghost that had once made her life a living hell was hunting her again — and this time it had forced her to wound the only person she had ever truly protected.
A soft knock came at the door. It opened without waiting for permission.
Marianne stepped inside. She took in the messy room — the broken vase, the scattered paint, the ruined canvas — and walked slowly toward Eleanor.
Eleanor did not turn around.
"Your daughter will be returned to you in a few days," she said, her voice flat and controlled.
Marianne stopped a few paces behind her. Relief and confusion crossed her face at the same time.
"Clara…? You found her?" she asked, her voice unsteady. "Where is she? Is she safe?"
Eleanor remained silent, still facing the window.
Marianne took another step closer. The usual confidence in her posture was gone, replaced by something more careful and uncertain.
"Eleanor…" she began, then hesitated. "Why did you do this? Why marry that boy? I saw Fin's face. I saw what it did to him. You've never been the type to make a move without a reason. So tell me… what forced you into this?"
Eleanor's fingers tightened slightly against the window frame. For a long moment, she said nothing. The gardens outside stretched out under the afternoon light, peaceful and distant, as if the world beyond these walls had no idea of the weight pressing down on her.
Finally, she spoke, her voice quieter than before.
"Because there are some truths more dangerous than a son's heartbreak," she said. "And I will not allow them to reach him… even if it means he hates me for the rest of his life."
Marianne stared at her back. After a few seconds of silence, she spoke carefully.
"Have you ever considered, even once, that you could have trusted him instead of shielding him from whatever you're protecting?"
She paused, her voice softening.
"If there's one thing I know about Fin, it's that he rises no matter how badly he's been hurt. But this time… I'm not sure he can. You're his last real hope, Eleanor. And right now, he feels like the one person he trusted most has betrayed him."
Eleanor did not reply.
The words settled heavily in the quiet room. For the first time in years, something cold and sharp twisted deep in her stomach at the thought of her son truly leaving her — not just walking out of a room, but walking out of her life.
Her hand remained pressed against the glass, her posture still perfectly straight, but the silence that followed was heavier than any answer she could have given.
Marianne watched her for a moment longer, waiting. When no response came, she lowered her gaze slightly and spoke again, quieter this time.
"Whatever you're carrying… it better be worth it. Because if you lose him, there won't be anything left to protect."
Eleanor's eyes remained fixed on the gardens. A faint, almost invisible tension pulled at the corner of her mouth, but she still said nothing.
The only sound in the room was the soft ticking of the antique clock on the wall.
***
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