Chapter 26: The Code

Elena backed away from the window, her breath catching in her throat. The woman in the driveway wasn't just a stranger holding the enemy's hand. She was the key.

Elena knew that face. She had seen it in the background of Julian's life for twenty years, a blurry figure in the periphery of his subconscious. The woman with the red hair. The woman from the dream about the supermarket.

The woman who smelled of turpentine.

Elena turned from the window. She needed to hide the ledger. The blue book was radioactive. If Vane found it, the game was over.

She looked around the bedroom. The safe was compromised. The mattress was too obvious.

She went to the closet. She pulled down a shoebox labeled *Julian - Winter Boots*. Inside were a pair of heavy Sorel boots he hadn't worn in years. She shoved the ledger into the left boot, jamming it down into the toe. She covered it with a pair of wool socks.

The doorbell rang.

It wasn't the polite chime of a visitor. It was the master code being entered into the keypad.

*Beep. Beep. Beep. Click.*

The front door opened.

"Elena?" Vane’s voice floated up the stairs. "We have a guest."

Elena smoothed her hair. She checked her face in the mirror. Pale. Terrified. Perfect.

She walked out to the landing.

Vane stood in the foyer. The woman was beside him. Up close, she looked older than she had from the window. Her red hair was streaked with gray, her coat was expensive but worn at the cuffs. She looked like a faded painting.

"Silas," Elena said, descending the stairs. "I wasn't expecting company."

"This is Valerie," Vane said. He put a hand on the woman's back, a gesture that looked possessive rather than supportive. "She's an old friend of the family. She was... close to Constance."

Valerie looked up at Elena. Her eyes were green. Piercing.

"Hello, Elena," she said. Her voice was smoky, rough.

"Have we met?" Elena asked.

"No," Valerie said. "But I feel like I know you. Julian talks about you."

Elena froze on the bottom step. "You know my husband?"

"Valerie is an artist," Vane interjected smoothly. "Julian has been... commissioning some pieces from her. For the office."

It was a lie. Elena handled the office decor. Julian had never mentioned a Valerie.

"I see," Elena said. "And what brings you here today?"

"Nostalgia," Vane said. "Valerie lived in the guest cottage for a few months in the eighties. She wanted to see the old place."

The guest cottage. The carriage house. Where Mrs. Gable lived.

"I didn't know we had a tenant in the eighties," Elena said.

"It was brief," Valerie said. She was looking at the stairs, at the photos on the wall. "A summer. A very long summer."

She walked past Elena, moving toward the living room. She moved like she knew the layout. Like she knew where the light hit the floor in the afternoon.

"Silas," Elena whispered, stepping close to him. "Who is she really?"

"I told you. An old friend." Vane’s eyes were hard. "Be nice to her, Elena. She's had a difficult life."

"Why is she holding your hand?"

Vane smiled. "Because she needs steadying. The past can be overwhelming."

He walked past her, following Valerie.

Elena stood in the foyer. She looked at the woman’s back. The way she held her shoulders.

She realized why the woman looked familiar.

It wasn't just the dream.

It was the jawline. The set of the chin.

Valerie had Julian’s chin.

The man upstairs—the imposter—had this woman’s face.

But the ledger said the replacement child was acquired from *The Agency*. A transaction.

If Valerie was the mother, why was she here with Vane? Why was she walking through the house like a ghost returning to a haunt?

Unless she didn't sell him.

Unless she was the one who sold him, and now she was back for the final payment.

Elena followed them into the living room. Valerie was standing in front of the fireplace, looking at the portrait of Constance.

"She was beautiful," Valerie said. "In a terrifying way."

"She was a force of nature," Vane agreed.

"She got what she wanted," Valerie said. She turned to Elena. "Did you know that? Constance always got what she wanted."

"I know," Elena said. "She wanted a son."

Valerie flinched. It was small, a tightening of the eyes, but Elena saw it.

"Yes," Valerie whispered. "She did."

"Valerie," Vane said, his voice a warning. "Perhaps we should go down to the lake. The light is better there."

"No," Elena said. "I want to hear about the summer of '86. Was it hot, Valerie? Or was there a storm?"

Valerie looked at Vane. Vane looked at Elena. The air in the room grew thin.

"There was a storm," Valerie said. "A terrible storm. It washed away the bridge. We were trapped here for three days."

Three days.

October 12th to October 14th.

The days the first baby died. The days the body was kept in the house.

Valerie was here. She was here when the first Julian died.

"And what happened after the storm?" Elena asked.

Valerie smiled. It was a sad, broken expression.

"The sun came out," she said. "And everything was different."

She looked at the ceiling. Toward the nursery.

"Even the baby."