"THE BILLIONAIRE SAID HIS DAUGHTER HADN’T SPOKEN IN A YEAR—THEN THE NANNY DROPPED HER KEYS AND REALIZED EVERYONE HAD MISSED THE TRUTH

The heat on the second-floor landing was blistering.

The heavy silk draperies lining the gallery were sheets of orange flame, sending plumes of oily black smoke rolling across the plaster ceiling. The portraits of Ellery ancestors were blistering, their oil paint bubbling into black pustules.

At the far end of the corridor, outside Clara’s private study, Vivian Ellery was on her knees.

Her expensive blouse was torn at the shoulder, her face smudged with soot. Standing over her was Julian Croft, holding an open metal canister of marine-grade lighter fluid. Behind him stood a stocky man in a high-visibility dockworker’s jacket, holding an iron crowbar.

"Where is the master keycard, Vivian?" Julian screamed over the roar of the fire. "I know she kept the encrypted backup drive in the floor safe! Give me the code, or I leave you in this hallway to burn with her memories!"

"I don't have it, Julian!" Vivian wept, clutching her bruised ribs. "Clara never gave me the code! She knew I was afraid of you! She knew I wouldn't protect her!"

"You took the money, you hypocrite!" Julian kicked the base of the study door with his heavy boot. "For ten years, you took dividends from Croft International to pay off your art gallery debts! You're as guilty as I am!"

"She's not as guilty as you, Julian."

Nora’s voice cut through the smoke.

Julian spun around. The dockworker raised the crowbar, squinting through the gray haze at the woman standing twenty feet away at the top of the stairs.

Nora was holding the heavy brass fire extinguisher she had pulled from the wall bracket outside the linen closet.

"Put it down, little nanny," Julian sneered, stepping over Vivian. "You're out of your depth. The police aren't coming through this storm. Marcus is stuck in downtown Boston. You have nothing."

"I have this," Nora said.

She pulled the safety pin with her thumb and squeezed the lever.

A high-pressure blast of monoammonium phosphate powder erupted from the nozzle, hitting Julian square in the face.

The white chemical cloud blinded him instantly. Julian screamed, dropping the lighter fluid canister, his hands clawing at his eyes as the corrosive powder filled his mouth and nostrils.

The dockworker lunged forward with the crowbar, swinging wildly through the haze.

Nora didn't try to wrestle him. She dropped the heavy extinguisher onto the hardwood floor directly in his path. The man’s work boot caught the rolling metal cylinder; his foot went out from under him, and he crashed down hard on the oak boards, his head striking the corner of a marble console table with a sickening crack. He went limp.

Nora grabbed Vivian by the collar of her torn blouse, hauling the older woman to her feet with a strength born of pure adrenaline.

"Can you run?" Nora yelled into her soot-streaked face.

Vivian stared at her through streaming, reddened eyes, coughing violently. "The... the study safe... Clara’s flash drive..."

"Forget the drive! The whole wing is going!"

Behind them, Julian Croft staggered to his feet, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, his face covered in white chemical residue. In his right hand, a silver emergency flare flared to life with a blinding, sputtering crimson light.

"Nobody leaves," Julian snarled, his voice a ragged hiss. "If I go down, the whole damn name goes with me!"

He hurled the burning flare directly at the open doorway of Clara’s study, where gallons of lighter fluid were already soaking into the floorboards.