Chapter 3

My younger brother, Noah, was twenty-one, a junior at Columbia, and the only person in this world who loved me without conditions.

Last time, after I was locked in the asylum, Alexander had used Noah as leverage.

"Sign over full custody of the baby to me, Elara. Voluntarily. Or your brother's scholarship disappears, his student visa gets 'reviewed,' and that little drug charge from his freshman year—the one I made go away—comes back."

Noah never even had a drug charge. Alexander had fabricated it, planted evidence, and then "saved" Noah from it—all to create a leash he could yank whenever I disobeyed.

Noah never knew any of this. He thought Alexander was a generous brother-in-law. He called him "bro" and invited him to basketball games.

When I died, Noah was told I'd had a "psychotic break" and that my death was a tragic consequence of untreated mental illness. He blamed himself for not visiting more.

He didn't know the truth.

This time, he would.

I found Noah at his campus apartment, surrounded by textbooks and empty energy drink cans. When he opened the door and saw my face, his smile vanished.

"Ellie? What happened? You look—"

"Pack a bag. Just essentials. We need to leave the city tonight."

"What? Why? Did something happen with Alexander—"

"Noah. Listen to me." I grabbed his hands. "Everything I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

He searched my face, and whatever he saw there made him stop asking questions.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. Always."

I told him. Not everything—not the rebirth, not the dying—but enough. The fake drug charge. The forged documents. Vivienne. The fact that Alexander saw both of us as tools, not people.

Noah's face went through confusion, denial, anger, and finally a terrifying stillness.

"I'm going to kill him."

"No. You're going to help me destroy him legally, financially, and publicly. That's worse. That lasts."

He stared at me for a long moment, then nodded slowly.

"What do you need?"

"I need the external hard drive Dad left me. The one in the safety deposit box."

Noah's eyes widened. "The one with—"

"Yes. Dad kept records of every deal he ever witnessed at Sinclair Group before he died. If even half of what he documented is still relevant, it's enough to trigger a federal investigation."

Our father had been the Sinclair Group's CFO for fifteen years. He died in a "car accident" three months after I married Alexander.

I used to think it was just tragic timing.

Now I wasn't so sure.

Noah grabbed his jacket and keys. "The bank opens at nine. We'll be there when the doors open."

We left his apartment and got into my car. As I pulled out of the parking garage, I checked the rearview mirror out of habit.

A black SUV, two cars back, pulled out at the same time.

My blood went cold.

"Noah, put on your seatbelt."

"It's on—why?"

"We're being followed."

I made a sharp right. The SUV followed.

Another right. It followed again.

Alexander wasn't waiting until tomorrow. He'd sent someone already.

"Noah, call this number." I handed him a burner phone from my glove compartment. "Tell the person who answers that the sparrow is flying early."

"The sparrow is—what? Ellie, what is this, a spy movie?"

"Just do it!"

He dialed. Someone answered on the first ring. Noah repeated the phrase, confusion all over his face.

A calm female voice on the other end said: "Acknowledged. Silver garage, pier 47. You have twelve minutes."

I floored the accelerator.

In the mirror, the black SUV accelerated too.

But I knew these streets better than any of Alexander's hired thugs. Our father used to drive us through this neighborhood every Sunday, pointing out shortcuts, alley exits, service roads.

"Hold on!"

I cut through a construction zone, bounced over a curb, and shot down a narrow alley that spat us out two blocks from the waterfront.

The SUV didn't make the turn.

At pier 47, a silver sedan was waiting, engine running, a woman in the driver's seat.

"Get in. Both of you. Now."

I didn't hesitate. I grabbed Noah and dove into the backseat.

The car was moving before the door fully closed.

Noah, breathless, looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time.

"Ellie... who are you?"

I almost laughed. "I'm your sister. Just... the version that stopped being naive."

My phone buzzed. Alexander again.

[You have 24 hours to come home. After that, I stop being nice.]

I showed the screen to Noah, then blocked the number.

But I knew Alexander wasn't bluffing. "Stop being nice" was code for scorched earth.

Last time, his "scorched earth" destroyed me completely.

This time, I had to strike first. And the weapon I needed was in that safety deposit box.

If we could get to it before Alexander realized what our father had left behind.