We join the others in the lead SUV, Kori’s hand still firmly in mine. As we approach the main house, I can see staff lined up to greet us—another MacGallan tradition I’ve always found excessive.
“Home sweet home,” Kat mutters beside me, her tone suggesting it’s anything but.
The vehicles pull to a stop in the circular drive, and we step out into the crisp Canadian air. At the top of the stone steps, a couple stands. They aren’t smiling. If anything, they look concerned.
I lean close to Kori and murmur next to her ear, “That’s Connor, another brother who recently found out he’s a MacGallan, and Mia, his wife. Connor used to be the cook and caretaker of Tomas when everyone thought he had dementia.”
Chapter 31
Kane
Declan stiffens beside me as we approach the steps. I’m too busy explaining who Connor and Mia are to Kori to notice at first, but then I catch the change in his posture, the sudden alertness in his stance.
“Connor,” Declan calls out, his voice carrying a note of concern I rarely hear from him. “What’s wrong?”
Connor doesn’t answer. His face is drawn, pale beneath his usually ruddy complexion. Mia reaches for his hand, squeezing it in what looks like silent support. Then, without a word, Connor steps aside.
A man I’ve never seen before moves forward from the shadows of the doorway. He’s tall, slim, with silver hair and wire-rimmed glasses that catch the sunlight. In his hands, he cradles what is unmistakably an urn—polished bronze with Celtic knotwork etched into its surface.
My stomach drops. The world seems to tiltbeneath my feet.
“Who are you?” Declan demands, already moving up the steps. “What is this?”
The man clears his throat, his eyes moving over each of us before settling on me. “My name is Dr. Malcolm Reid. I was Tomas MacGallan’s physician for the last fifteen years of his life.”
“Last fifteen—” Kat begins, but falls silent as the implication sinks in.
Dr. Reid’s expression is gentle but firm. “I’m afraid I’m the bearer of difficult news. Tomas MacGallan passed away a year ago.”
“That’s impossible,” I hear myself say, the words sounding distant, as if spoken by someone else. “We just found clues he left. He’s waiting for us in Alberta.”
Kori’s hand tightens around mine, anchoring me as the doctor continues.
“I understand your confusion. Perhaps we should go inside? This is a conversation best had sitting down.”
Declan looks at Connor. “Is this true?”
Connor nodded. “I took him to Dr. Reid regularly.”
We follow him into the grand foyer, a space I’ve always found oppressively formal. Connor and Mia lead us to the library—all dark wood and leather-bound books that smell of history and privilege.The urn sits on the coffee table between us, a silent presence that commands the room.
“Tomas did have dementia,” Dr. Reid begins once we’re all seated. “Advanced Alzheimer’s, in fact. He was diagnosed shortly after his seventy-fifth birthday, though the symptoms had been present for some time before that.”
“We know that part,” Declan says, his voice tight. “What we don’t understand is how he could be dead when we’ve been following clues he left across Ireland.”
Dr. Reid nods, removing his glasses to clean them with a handkerchief—a gesture that seems designed to give him time to choose his words carefully.
“The clues were indeed left by Tomas, but not recently. He prepared everything years ago, in his lucid moments, when he knew what was coming.” The doctor replaces his glasses and looks directly at me now. “He asked me to implement his plan after his death. To set the treasure hunt in motion when the time was right.”
“Why?” I demand, anger bubbling up alongside confusion. “Why the elaborate game?”
“Because he knew none of you would believe the truth otherwise,” Dr. Reid says. “Particularly about Ella.”
Ella. My sister. The phantom we’ve been chasing across continents.
“What about her?” I ask, dreading the answer.
Dr. Reid sighs. “There is no Ella, Mr. MacGallan. At least, not as you’ve been led to believe.”
