Chapter Twenty-One
Crown
Agent Clay placed photographs of Jayla’s assault in front of me.
Not the attack at her studio.
The assault from high school.
School records. Statements from classmates. A photograph of Malik Moore and his cousin.
Jayla had trusted me with a wound she had hidden most of her life.
Clay turned it into evidence.
“You had both men located within hours of her telling you,” he said.
“I didn’t contact them.”
“But you wanted to.”
“Yes.”
“You ordered surveillance.”
“I wanted to know whether they remained a threat.”
“You planned to kill them.”
“No.”
“Your history suggests otherwise.”
“My history also suggests they would already be dead if I had decided to kill them.”
Clay stopped smiling.
I counted four breaths.
Then four more.
“What does this have to do with the archive?” I asked.
“It demonstrates your obsession with Jayla Bennett.”
“You investigated a sexual assault victim to establish that I’m dangerous?”
“We investigated you.”
“By violating her privacy.”
He closed the folder.
“If she cooperates, she walks away.”
“Cooperates with what?”
“Testifies that you forced her to access the files.”
“She won’t lie.”
“Everybody lies when the alternative is prison.”
“You don’t know her.”
“I know frightened women.”
My hands tightened beneath the table.
Clay noticed.
He wanted the reaction.
I denied it to him.
“You’re in the archive,” I said.
His expression didn’t change quickly enough.
“You worked security at Devereaux Maritime before joining the bureau. Victor paid you to redirect investigations concerning missing women.”
“You have no access to those files.”
“Apparently, neither do you. Otherwise, you would’ve destroyed them.”
Clay rose.
“This interview is over.”
“Where is Jayla?”
“Being transferred.”
My chair struck the floor as I stood.
The agents behind me reached for their weapons.
“Transferred where?”
“Sit down.”
“Where is she?”
The door opened.
Asha entered carrying a court order. Dorian and two federal supervisors followed her.
“Step away from my client,” Asha ordered.
Clay didn’t move.
“She isn’t authorized to be here.”
“Neither were you when you detained my brother.”
Asha placed the order on the table.
“The arrest warrants have been stayed. The issuing judge failed to disclose financial connections to Devereaux Maritime.”
One of the supervisors addressed Clay.
“You’re relieved of command.”
Clay looked toward the door.
Dorian moved into his path.
“Bad decision.”
Clay slowly removed his badge and weapon.
“Where is Jayla?” I asked again.
Asha looked at the supervisors.
Nobody answered.
The pressure in my chest sharpened.
Dorian received a message.
“Garage,” he said. “Shots fired.”
I was moving before anyone could stop me.
We reached the elevator as the doors opened.
Jayla stood beside my mother and Berkeley, holding a weapon at the floor.
Blood marked the sleeve of her shirt.
Everything else disappeared.
I crossed the space between us.
“Whose blood?”
“Not mine.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Did they touch you?”
“One tried.”
“Name.”
“Malachi.”
I stopped.
She placed the weapon in Nia’s hands.
“I handled it.”
I checked her face and arms without touching.
“May I?”
“Yes.”
I pulled her against me.
Jayla held me just as tightly.
“You came back inside,” I said.
“You were here.”
“You should’ve left.”
“Don’t ruin the moment.”
I closed my eyes against her hair.
For four breaths, she was the only thing I allowed myself to feel.
Safe.
Alive.
Mine wasn’t the correct word.
Chosen.
She had returned because she chose me.
Asha cleared her throat.
“We need to leave before somebody finds another corrupt judge.”
I released Jayla but kept her hand.
My mother watched us.
“Clay’s men intended to take her to Lenora,” Nia said. “Berkeley intercepted the order.”
“Where?”
“A private airfield owned by Julian.”
Jayla looked at me.
“He may be trying to move Lenora, Rochelle, or the archive.”
“Rochelle is at the estate,” I reminded her.
Nia’s face changed.
“What?”
“We rescued her from Grant.”
“No. You rescued someone who looked like her.”
Jayla’s grip tightened.
“What are you saying?”
“Lenora used facial reconstruction experts for years. Prosthetics. Voice alteration. It’s how Bishop appeared in multiple places under different identities.”
“That woman knew things only my mother should know.”
“Because Lenora knew Rochelle.”
“Then where is my real mother?”
Nia looked toward Berkeley.
Berkeley reluctantly opened a file on her phone.
Security footage showed the woman we rescued entering the abandoned hospital two hours before the exchange.
The real Rochelle had been captured days earlier.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” I asked.
“We didn’t confirm the substitution until now,” Berkeley said.
Jayla stepped away from me.
“No.”
“Jayla.”
“She admitted abandoning me. She knew about Kenzie and Grandma’s death.”
“Lenora had Rochelle’s reports,” Nia explained. “She could’ve trained someone.”
“I sat beside her. I told her things.”
Jayla’s breathing quickened.
I moved into her line of sight.
“Look at me.”
“She was in the house with Zo?.”
“Zo? is safe.”
“She touched my niece.”
“Jayla.”
Her eyes found mine.
“Breathe.”
She followed me.
Four seconds in.
Four seconds out.
Nia looked toward the elevators.
“The imposter is inside your estate.”
My phone was already in my hand.
Micah answered immediately.
“What?”
“Lock down the house. Find Rochelle.”
“Why?”
“She isn’t Rochelle.”
Silence.
Then alarms sounded through his connection.
“She’s inside the archive room,” Micah said.
The line disconnected.
We reached the estate in nine minutes.
The gates stood open.
Two guards were unconscious near the security station. Neither had been shot.
The house’s internal alarms screamed.
Simone met us in the foyer carrying Zo?.
“She took Imani.”
Jayla went pale.
“Where?”
“Through Celeste’s room.”
The hidden relay.
The tunnel beneath the estate.
Micah appeared at the staircase with blood running from his forehead.
“She used Mom’s access code.”
Everyone looked at Nia.
“I never gave it to her.”
“Lenora has used your identity for years,” I said.
Jayla took Zo? from Simone.
“Where is my mama?” Zo? cried.
“We’re getting her.”
“Promise?”
Jayla looked at me.
I couldn’t promise what we didn’t control.
She understood.
“We’re going to do everything we can,” she told Zo?.
A message appeared across every screen in the house.
The woman pretending to be Rochelle filled the image. The prosthetic skin had been removed from her face, revealing someone I didn’t recognize.
Imani sat tied to a chair behind her.
The imposter smiled.
“Crown, thank you for bringing both keys home.”
I checked the archive console.
Empty.
She had taken them.
“Lenora has everything she needs,” the woman continued. “At midnight tomorrow, the full archive goes public.”
Jayla stared at Imani.
“If anything happens to her—”
“You’ll bring Evelyn’s memory box to the red door,” the woman said. “Lenora wants what your grandmother hid beneath the lining.”
The screen went black.
We had opened the box, removed the keys and letters, but never checked beneath the fabric.
Dorian carried it into the foyer.
Jayla tore out the velvet lining.
A flat compartment appeared.
Inside was a birth certificate.
The child’s name read:
Jayla Evelyn Bennett-Devereaux.
Father:
Sebastian Alexander Devereaux.
Nobody moved.
Jayla read the document again.
“That isn’t possible.”
Nia covered her mouth.
Malachi’s father was listed as Jayla’s father.
If the document was real, Jayla wasn’t merely Evelyn’s heir.
She was Malachi’s sister.