"The second?"
"Charles Mercer."
"Alive?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
Harold hesitated.
"Washington."
Marcus wrote the name down.
"And the third?"
Harold looked at him.
"You already know him."
Marcus frowned.
"Who?"
Harold's answer was quiet.
"Daniel Cross."
The room went silent.
Eleanor turned.
Daniel was standing beside the door.
He looked stunned.
"No."
Harold shook his head.
"Your father was Charles Mercer."
Daniel stared.
"My father died when I was ten."
"That's what you were told."
Daniel's face changed.
"You're lying."
"I wish I were."
Marcus stepped between them.
"Daniel, you need to leave."
Daniel didn't move.
"How do you know?"
Harold reached into his desk.
He removed an old photograph.
Three men stood beside the original Bellwood sign.
Harold's father.
Thomas Bell.
And a younger Charles Mercer.
Beside them stood a woman.
Daniel's mother.
Daniel stared at the photograph.
His hands began shaking.
"My mother told me my father was a contractor."
"He was."
"What does this have to do with me?"
Harold looked at him.
"Everything."
Daniel's father had not died.
He had disappeared.
He had taken money from the network.
Then he vanished.
Harold's father told everyone he had died.
Daniel had been raised believing he was an orphan.
The truth was far darker.
His father had been a whistleblower.
And the reason Daniel had been hired as Bellwood's security chief was not coincidence.
Someone had put him there.
Chapter Six
The Trap
That night, Eleanor received a text.
Don't go to the clubhouse tomorrow.
No name.
No number she recognized.
She showed it to Marcus.
He looked at it.
"When did it arrive?"
"Two minutes ago."
"Don't respond."
"Why?"
"Because whoever sent it knows where you are."
Eleanor looked around the room.
They were sitting in her kitchen.
The blinds were closed.
The doors locked.
Still, she suddenly felt exposed.
Marcus stood.
"We need to leave."
"Where?"
"Somewhere public."
"Why?"
"Because I think someone knows we've found the basement."
They left through the back door.
As they reached the street, a car passed slowly.
Marcus watched it.
"That's the same vehicle."
"The SUV?"
"Yes."
Eleanor swallowed.
"Should we call the police?"
"We already have."
"What?"
Marcus showed her his phone.
A message from a federal investigator.
Stay where you are. Do not confront anyone.
Eleanor stared.
"Federal?"
Marcus nodded.
"I sent them the files yesterday."
She looked at him.
"You knew this was bigger."
"I suspected."
"And you didn't tell me."
"I didn't want to put you in danger."
Eleanor laughed nervously.
"Too late."
They reached a coffee shop outside Bellwood.
Marcus sat near the window.
Eleanor sat opposite him.
"Tell me something."
"What?"
"Why me?"
Marcus frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"You could have investigated this alone."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you know the community."
"That's it?"
Marcus shook his head.
"You've been on the board for years."
"So?"
"You know where the records are."
"That's not enough."
He paused.
"You also noticed something."
"What?"
"The stranger."
Eleanor stared.
"What?"
"The first day."
Marcus leaned forward.
"You noticed me."
"Because I thought you didn't belong."
"Exactly."
He smiled sadly.
"You were looking for someone who didn't belong."
Eleanor understood.
"And I found the people who actually didn't."
Marcus nodded.
The next morning, they returned to Bellwood.
The federal investigators arrived shortly afterward.
But Harold was gone.
His office was empty.
His house was empty.
His car was gone.
The security office had been wiped.
The basement was locked.
Daniel had disappeared too.
Eleanor felt panic rise.
"Where did they go?"
Marcus looked at the orchard.
"Somewhere they think we won't look."
He pulled out the old photograph.
"The tunnel."
They drove there.
The service entrance was open.
Marcus stopped.
"Someone is inside."
Federal agents followed.
They descended.
At the end of the corridor was the hidden room.
But it was empty.
Almost.
One desk remained.
On it was a single envelope.
Marcus picked it up.
His name was written on the front.
Inside was a letter.
You are looking for the wrong secret.
Marcus read the next line.
Bellwood was never about the orchard.
Then:
It was about the people.
Eleanor frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Marcus looked at the files.
Then at the walls.
Then at the cameras.
He suddenly understood.
"They weren't collecting information to protect the land."
"Then why?"
"To control the residents."
He opened one file.
Then another.
Then another.
Every resident had been categorized.
Influence.
Debt.
Risk.
Access.
Pressure.
Eleanor felt sick.
"This is insane."
Marcus shook his head.
"No."
He pointed at the wall.
"Look."
A map of Bellwood covered it.
Every house was marked.
Different colors.
Different notes.
"They were mapping relationships."
Eleanor stepped closer.
The map wasn't of property.
It was of people.
Who knew whom.
Who worked where.
Who owed whom.
Who could influence which board member.
Who could be pressured.
Who might resist.