Chapter 7: Betrayal on the River

After the mansion, Harold Hayes insisted on seeing me off. We walked together down to the river, the night thick with humidity and secrets.

I forced myself to smile, keeping my voice casual. But as we neared the steamboat, I dismissed the staff and pressed him: “Why are you helping me?”

Harold stared at me, his eyes cold and unreadable. The silence stretched. I shifted, sweat prickling under my collar.

Just as I was about to leave, he spoke in a low whisper: “You are not Marcus Wheeler.”

The words hit me like a fist to the gut. My secret was out. The nightmare was only just beginning.