The phone call echoed off the wooden walls of the countryside porch, hanging in the crisp morning air like a signal flare. Silas stared at his phone screen, a slow, brilliant grin spreading across his handsome face. He clicked the end call button and tossed the device carelessly onto the table.

"Well," Silas laughed, his eyes sparkling with pure amusement. "It looks like our dear stepfather took the bait hook, line, and sinker."

Clara blinked in surprise, turning her head to look at him. "Bait? What do you mean, Silas? The pages he took from me at the factory were the ones I decoded from my mother's journal."

Silas chuckled,...