Sofía thought she was seeing a ghost. The young woman had the same face as her missing cousin.

The dumbwaiter crashed to an abrupt, bone-jarring halt in the basement, throwing Sofía and Maya against the splintered floorboards. The air down here was frigid, smelling of damp earth, centuries-old limestone, and salt water.

Sofía kicked open the bottom hatch. They scrambled out onto the dirt floor of the old root cellar just as a muffled explosion rumbled two floors above—the windows of the west wing blowing out from the intense heat.

"Up," Sofía panted, hauling Maya to her feet. "The tunnel leads toward the cliffs. Highwood was built during Prohibition; the original Vance rum-runners dug an escape route down to the cove."

They sprinted through the vaulted stone arches of the cellar, guided only by the dying beam of Sofía’s penlight. Maya clutched the manila envelope tight against her chest, her knuckles bleeding from the rough descent.

At the far end of the cellar, behind a false wine rack that stood slightly ajar, was a narrow, unpaved tunnel cut directly through the coastal granite. Sea wind wailed through the shaft like an angry specter, bringing the roar of the Atlantic into deafening focus.

They ran through the tunnel, mud sucking at their shoes, until the stone opened abruptly into the violent night air.

They were halfway down the cliff face, standing on a wooden service platform overlooking Devil’s Leap.

The storm was at its peak. Waves crashed against the jagged black reefs fifty feet below, shooting plumes of white foam into the dark sky. Above them, Highwood Manor was an inferno; bright orange flames licked out of the west wing windows, turning the rain into shimmering embers.

"Sofía!"

A figure emerged from the rain on the platform steps above them.

Sofía instinctively threw an arm in front of Maya, raising her scissors like a dagger. "Stay back!"

The figure stepped into the light of the burning mansion. It was Aunt Victoria.

She wasn't sedated. She wore a heavy oilskin trench coat, her graying blonde hair plastered to her skull by the torrential rain. In her hands, she held a double-barreled hunting shotgun.

"Aunt Victoria..." Sofía choked out, her voice competing with the roar of the surf. "Did Julian send you to finish us?"

Victoria’s eyes were bloodshot, but they were sharper than Sofía had seen them in fifteen years. The trembling, fragile socialite had vanished.

"Julian thinks I’m unconscious in bed," Victoria said, her voice raw and vibrating with grief. She lowered the shotgun, her gaze shifting to Maya.

Victoria froze. Her breath caught in a broken, ragged sob.

"Elena..." Victoria whispered, tears mixing with the rain streaming down her face. "Dear God in heaven... she lives."

"This is Maya," Sofía said firmly, stepping sideways to shield the girl. "Elena’s daughter. Victoria, Julian tried to burn us alive. He confessed to everything. He locked Elena in that nursery twenty years ago!"

"I know," Victoria said, her voice dropping into a hollow, haunting pitch. "I helped him."

Maya stiffened behind Sofía. "You?"

"I was twenty-four, terrified, and desperate," Victoria cried, clutching the shotgun against her chest. "Julian told me Elena was carrying another man’s child to steal the inheritance from us. He told me she was going to ruin the family. I watched him lock that blue door every night. I brought her meals laced with sedatives. I was a coward!"

"Why didn't you stop him the night she died?" Maya demanded, stepping past Sofía, her anger cutting through the howling wind. "Why did you let her jump?"

"She didn't jump!" Victoria shouted back.

The words hung in the stormy air, heavier than the thunder rolling across the bay.

Sofía stared at her aunt. "What did you say?"

"Elena never jumped from Devil’s Leap," Victoria wept, pointing a shaking hand toward the southern headland. "The car crashed into the guardrail, yes. But Julian caught her before she could reach the water. He was going to drown her in the surf to make it look like suicide. I couldn't watch it. I couldn't let him do it."

"What did you do, Victoria?" Sofía shouted over the rising gale.

"I shot him in the shoulder," Victoria said, her voice trembling. "I pulled Elena into my car. But she had lost too much blood from the birth. She was delirious. She made me swear to let Julian believe she was dead, so he would never hunt down Clara and the baby."

Maya grabbed Victoria’s coat sleeves, shaking the older woman violently. "Where is she, Victoria? Where did you take my mother?!"

Before Victoria could answer, a loud *crack* echoed above the sound of the storm.