The Vault remained open.
Its walls pulsed with cold truths, every file a dagger poised to slit the throat of a legacy. Nathaniel leaned over a rusted desk, the glow from the monitors etching shadows across his face. Alfreda watched him from the doorway, her own file clutched like a noose in her hand.
Her name wasn't just in one file.
It was in dozens.
Medical records. Contracts. Assassination logs.
She wasn't just a target. She was an experiment.
"You knew," she said quietly.
Nathaniel didn't turn.
"I didn't know everything," he replied.
"But you knew enough to keep me out. You knew enough to lie."
"I lied to protect you."
Alfreda let out a laugh—dry and venom-laced. "Don't pretend you're noble, Nathaniel. You wanted control. Just like your father."
Finally, he faced her.
"I'm not my father."
"Then prove it."
She stepped into the room, the air between them crackling. She threw the file at his chest. "Burn it. Burn everything in here. Wipe the Vault clean."
He caught the file. Held it. Looked down at her name, the ink already fading with time.
"I can't," he said. "Not yet."
"Why?"
"Because if we destroy this, we lose every chance of unraveling the Widowmakers from the inside. This… is our endgame."
Alfreda shook her head. "No. This is your addiction. This room is your throne."
"And what does that make you?" he asked, stepping closer. "The queen who came to burn the kingdom… or rule it with me?"
The heat between them snapped.
She kissed him.
Hard.
Violent.
Desperate.
A war cry in the shape of a kiss. His hands found her hips, hers tangled in his hair, their shadows colliding against the glowing Vault monitors like devils making deals.
She bit his lip.
He pinned her to the table.
"You want to burn it down?" he growled. "Fine. But you'll do it with me."
And she—God help her—believed him.
But neither of them noticed the small blinking light in the corner of the Vault.
A surveillance bug.
Streaming everything.
Straight to Celeste.
—
Elsewhere, in the villa…
Celeste closed her laptop slowly.
She'd seen it all. The files. The kiss. The alliance.
The lie.
"So they're lovers now," she said, eyes unreadable.
Her mother didn't respond.
"They think they're winning. But they forgot one thing."
Celeste turned.
"I built that Vault."
Her mother's brows raised. "You?"
"Before Nathaniel took control. Before Alfreda came back from the dead. I laid the foundation. I left… backdoors."
A beat.
Her smile twisted into something cruel. "And I just triggered one."
—
Underground…
A soft rumble echoed through the Vault.
Alfreda broke from Nathaniel, eyes wide.
"What was that?"
Lights flickered.
Monitors glitched.
And then the wall behind them split open.
Not part of the original blueprint. A hidden room behind the hidden room.
Nathaniel cursed under his breath. "That wasn't supposed to happen."
They stepped inside.
And what they found changed everything.
Bodies. Preserved in cryo-glass. Men. Women. Children.
All tagged with Widowmaker symbols.
And in the center—one figure with Alfreda's face.
Younger. Scarred.
Labeled: Alpha-07. Project: Resurrection.
Alfreda stumbled back. "That's… not possible."
Nathaniel looked like he'd seen a ghost.
"You're not the only one," he said quietly. "You were… duplicated."
The Vault hadn't just held secrets.
It held sins.
Alfreda's past was no longer hers alone.
And now?
It was weaponized.