Ricardo’s grip on Maria’s jaw tightened. “What did you just say?”

Maria laughed, a dry, humorless sound. Even half-conscious and weak, she had the audacity to find amusement in his reaction.

“You heard me,” she murmured, voice hoarse. “Henry.”

Ricardo’s blood ran cold. There was no way. No way in hell she should know that name. His father had been a ghost to the world, a man who moved in shadows, leaving behind nothing but blood and whispered prayers.

But Arya, watching from the screen, caught something even deeper—Maria wasn’t surprised by Ricardo’s reaction. She expected it.

Arya leaned forward, speaking through the AirPods in Ricardo’s ear. “She didn’t just...