Whitmore Tower.
Aunt Margaret leaned toward the camera.
“Emily,” she said.
My hand flew to my mouth.
Her voice was exactly as I remembered—warm, dry, steady.
“If you are watching this, then I am gone, and Daniel has finally shown you enough of himself that others can no longer explain it away.”
Lily slipped her hand into mine.
Aunt Margaret sighed softly on the screen.
“I am sorry, my darling. I wanted to tell you everything while I was alive. Your mother wanted that too. But there were promises made long before you were old enough to understand them, and dangers I hoped would die before they reached you.”
Mr. Meyers stood very still.
My aunt looked down at something in her lap, then back up.
“Your inheritance is not merely wealth. It is responsibility. Whitmore Tower is not just a building. It is a vault of records, loyalties, mistakes, and one truth your mother gave her life trying to protect.”
