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At the bottom of the page was a company seal.
Not Raymond Cole’s.
Not some criminal gang’s.
It was the seal of a Carter family subsidiary.
And beneath it, in fresh blue ink, was a signature Emily recognized from every household order, every staff payment, every instruction that had once controlled her life inside the mansion.
Margaret Carter.
Emily slowly lifted her eyes.
Margaret whispered, “I didn’t know what it meant.”
But Emily was no longer listening.
Because at that exact moment, Nathan’s phone rang.
A blocked number.
He answered.
For three seconds, there was only static.
Then a little girl’s voice whispered through the line.
“Emmy?”
Emily’s knees weakened.
“Lily?” she gasped.
The child began to cry.
“Emmy, please come. The lady said we’re going to our new home today.”
“What lady?” Emily cried. “Lily, where are you?”
There was a rustling sound.
Then a woman’s calm voice came on the line.
“Mrs. Carter,” the woman said. “Congratulations on your wedding.”
Emily’s blood turned cold.
“Who are you?”
The woman laughed softly.
“You married into the family that bought your life years ago. Now come and collect what’s left of it.”
The call ended.
Nathan grabbed the phone, but the line was dead.
Emily stood in the middle of the grand room, still wearing the robe from her wedding night, holding the ledger that tied her suffering to the family whose name she now carried.
And outside, beyond the iron gates of the mansion, a black car rolled slowly past.
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