Margaret was trapped inside the freezing room, tapping weakly on the glass as frost covered her hair and eyebrows.

The third day of the trial began in chaos. The judge called a recess. The prosecution and defense argued over new threats, new evidence, a third conspirator who had not yet been caught.

Margaret sat in the courtroom waiting room, bruised and tired, when the call came.

It was from the hospital.

“Mrs. Holloway?” The voice was grave. “Arthur was brought in an hour ago. He was attacked outside his apartment. He is in critical condition.”

Margaret stood up so quickly her chair scraped the floor. “Is he alive?”

“Barely. He asked for you.”

Margaret and David rushed to the hospital. They found Arthur in a private room, tubes running everywhere, machines beeping softly. He looked smaller than ever. His face was pale, his breathing shallow.

The doctor stepped out. “He has minutes. Perhaps less.”

Margaret walked to the bedside. She took Arthur’s hand.

“I am here,” she said softly.

Arthur opened his eyes. He struggled to focus.

“Margaret…”

“I am here,” she repeated.

Arthur breathed slowly, painfully. “The third son… his name… — Julian named him Lucas, Arthur whispered. His voice was barely a breath, words catching with every beat of his failing heart. — Lucas Vale… born the year Julian went away. Julian never told anyone… kept him hidden… raised him from afar… to be his final hand… the one no one would see coming.

Arthur’s grip tightened weakly on her fingers. Pain twisted his face, but he fought on.

— He was trained… to watch… to wait… to finish what Rachel and Marcus failed to do. He knows every secret… every weakness… every way inside this house. And he believes… he believes he is the only true heir… the only one worthy of Holloway.

A long, shuddering breath rattled in his chest. His eyes grew distant, slipping toward darkness.

— Margaret… he has nothing left to lose… and he strikes without warning. Tell Rachel… tell Marcus… I am sorry… I could not protect them… from him… from their father’s shadow…

His hand went limp in hers. The machines fell to a steady, empty tone. Arthur was gone.

Margaret stood still, holding his hand, grief and cold resolve settling heavy in her chest. David stepped beside her, voice low and tight.

— Lucas. That’s the name we’ve been missing all along. Julian’s hidden son.

— Yes, Margaret said, straightening slowly. And he will come. He will come to finish the trial, to silence Arthur forever, to make sure no one stands in his way. We have the name. Now we prepare. Every gate locked. Every light burning. Every guard doubled. And when he comes… we will be waiting.