“I don’t care!” She twisted free, wild-eyed. “Everything I built...Anthony, it’s all gone!”
He stayed close, letting her rage and claw through the wreckage, even as her hands came away blackened and blistered. He knew better than to stop her outright. Some pain couldn’t be bottled.
Finally, she collapsed to her knees in the ashes, coughing from the smoke. “Why? Why would they—”
Anthony scanned the area with his jaw tight. There were no people in the area. Perhaps this wreckage might have been more of a spectacle if it had been centered on the main street of the town.
Vanburgh’s men had made their message clear. This wasn’t just fire; it was intimidation.
“They wanted to break you,” Anthony said, his voice low but steady. “Break us both. But fire can’t burn truth.”
Abigail looked up at him, eyes wet but blazing with anger. “Truth doesn’t matter if the evidence is gone, Anthony,” she said. “Those papers...my father’s notes on the clinic...the deeds...they were in my office.”
Anthony crouched beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Not if your father was half as careful as you are. A man like him wouldn’t put all his faith in one box of papers.”
She shook her head, lips trembling. “I don’t—”
But then she froze. Her gaze shifted, narrowing toward the far corner of the collapsed wall, where a section of stone foundation had held firm.
“My father...” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “He told me once...back when I first took over the clinic...that if I ever needed what was most important, I should look where the fire couldn’t reach.”
Anthony followed her line of sight. “Stone foundation.”
Without another word, Abigail scrambled toward it, coughing as the smoke thickened. Anthony went after her, yanking a beam out of the way so she could squeeze past. They dug, hands raw and blackened, until Abigail’s fingers struck iron.
Her breath caught. “Here!”
Together, they heaved the small, scorched trunk free from beneath the fallen rubble. The lock was blackened but intact. The metal was warm under their palms. Abigail’s hands shook as she brushed soot from the lid.
Anthony drew his knife and wedged it into the lock. With a sharp twist, the metal groaned and gave way.
Inside, they found folded papers—legal documents, maps, deeds. They were all safe. Beneath them, an envelope was sealed with wax. The edges were browned but not burned. Abigail lifted it reverently, the handwriting across the front instantly familiar.
Her lips trembled as she read the name. “It’s...it’s from my father.”
Anthony stepped back, giving her space. In the glow of the smoldering ruins, Abigail broke the seal with careful fingers.
She didn’t speak at first. She just read the letter, her eyes darting back and forth across the page. Her face shifted from grief to shock.
Finally, she looked up at Anthony, her voice thick with emotion. “He knew,” she said. “He knew Vanburgh would try to take it all. And he made sure I’d have the proof I needed. These deeds...they aren’t just mine. They’re tied into a trust. Joint ownership.”
“Best read it properly,” Anthony said. “All the way through.”
Her eyes flicked to him, guarded. “I already know what it says. My father wasn’t the kind to waste words.”
“Then let’s hear them,” Anthony said. His hand brushed the lid of the iron box. “Buildings burn. Ink don’t.”
For a long second, she just stared at him. Her hands trembled slightly as she looked back at the letter. She cleared her throat and began to read aloud.
“To my daughter, Abigail,” she started. “If you are reading this, then fate has caught me before my work was finished. Know this...Eagle Rock is not just land. It is heritage. It is trust.”
Anthony held his breath as he listened.
“During the war, I entered into a joint claim with Elias Redhawk and with Anthony Hawk’s father, Charles. Together we bound our rights in law so that no single man could break it. The deeds herein are true copies of the trust. By that trust, Eagle Rock and its wealth belong in equal part to our families and to Redhawk’s heirs. No court of honest standing can deny it. Keep it safe. Keep it honest. Let no tyrant unmake what was bound in good faith.”
Silence followed. Only the hiss of smoke and the crack of collapsing timber broke it.
Anthony blinked. “Your father . . . and mine.”
