At my 18th birthday party, I quietly transferred my entire multi-million-dollar inheritance from my grandparents into a trust, just as a precaution. The next morning, my parents and younger sister…

The rain fell in relentless gray sheets over downtown Stamford as Rebecca, Captain Vega, and I gathered in the war room of Shaw, Vance & Sterling. The walls were covered with digital monitors displaying financial webs, campus maps, and phone records.

It had been thirty-six hours since the threat was sent to my phone.

Captain Vega stood near a whiteboard, holding a marker. "The photo sent to Emma was taken from the second-floor balcony of Sterling Memorial Library using a high-magnification telephoto lens. We pulled the campus card-access logs for that floor at 2:15 p.m. Three hundred students passed through, but one visitor badge was checked out using a stolen ID belonging to a visiting professor from Columbia."

"What about the phone number?" I asked, pacing behind the conference table.

"It was a burner phone purchased with cash at a convenience store near Penn Station in New York three days ago," Vega replied. "The cell tower pinged near the library five minutes after the photo was taken, then went dead. Whomever our stalker is, they are trained, precise, and professional."

Rebecca tapped her pen against a thick legal pad. "The real question isn't who took the photo, Marisol. It’s who paid Vanguard Maritime Capital to file Richard’s appeal and fund this extortion."

"I ran the Swiss registration documents for Vanguard through our federal liaison," Vega said, drawing an arrow on the whiteboard. "Vanguard Maritime Capital isn't controlled by Victor Kozlov. Kozlov’s assets are frozen solid. Vanguard is owned by a holding company called Helios Trust."

Vega uncapped her marker and wrote a name on the board in bold red ink:

JULIAN BENNETT.

I stared at the name, a cold sensation washing through my chest. "Julian... Grandpa’s younger brother?"

"Your grand-uncle," Rebecca confirmed softly. "He left the United States thirty years ago after a bitter falling out with your grandfather over the original expansion of the family’s maritime shipping business. He moved to Zurich, built a massive offshore private banking empire, and completely severed contact with the American branch of the family."

"Grandpa never spoke about him," I murmured, memories of old family photos coming back to me—photos where a man’s face had been systematically cut out with scissors. "I thought he died decades ago."

"Julian Bennett is very much alive, Emma," Vega revealed. "He’s eighty-two years old, worth an estimated four hundred million dollars, and resides in a fortified estate in Saint-Moritz. And according to federal intelligence, Julian believed your grandfather stole his share of the original family shipping patents back in 1985."

"So this isn't just about money for Richard," I realized, the horrifying truth dawning on me. "This is a family blood feud. Julian is funding Dad’s appeal to tear down Grandpa’s legacy from the grave."

"And he’s using your sister as leverage to force you to surrender control of the $14.8 million trust," Rebecca added grimly. "If you surrender the trust or drop your opposition to the appeal, Richard gets released on a legal loophole, Vanguard assumes administrative control of the trust assets, and Julian gets the historic Nantucket land deeds."

The conference room door pushed open, and Lily walked in. She was wearing a rain jacket, her backpack slung over one shoulder. She looked tired, but her jaw was set in a tight, uncompromising line.

"Lily," I said, stepping toward her. "You should be in your dorm with the security guards."

"I’m not staying in a dorm while some old man in Switzerland hires mercenaries to take pictures of me," Lily said firmly, setting her backpack on the table. She pulled a folder from her bag and laid it in front of Rebecca. "I didn't spend the last two days hiding in my room, Emma. I spent them digging through Grandpa’s private journals in the Nantucket digital archives."

Rebecca frowned, opening the folder. "What did you find, Lily?"

"Grandpa kept a copy of Julian’s original Swiss expulsion agreement from 1988," Lily revealed, pointing to a scanned document written in French. "Julian didn't leave the country because of a bitter argument over shipping patents. Grandpa caught Julian embezzling funds from the maritime union pension fund. Grandpa forced him to sign a total renunciation of all claims to the Bennett family name and assets in exchange for not reporting him to Interpol."

Lily looked directly at me, her eyes flashing with pure determination.

"Julian’s entire Swiss empire was built on stolen pension money," Lily said. "If we publish this renunciation agreement and submit it to the Swiss Financial Market Supervisory Authority, Julian’s entire banking license will be revoked within forty-eight hours."