The Cameron mansion blazed with lights, Midsummer's celebration in full swing. Figure Eight's elite mingled on the lawn, their laughter carrying across manicured gardens that cost more than most Pogues made in a year.
I adjusted my blazer-Vineyard Vines because some Kook habits die hard-and tried not to think about how out of place Pope and Kiara must feel.
"Your mom's sending signals," Pope muttered, appearing beside me with practiced casualness. He'd cleaned up well, though his borrowed jacket sat awkwardly on his shoulders.
"Figure Eight's favorite Barbie and Ken are reunited again," Sarah teased, appearing at my side with the easy familiarity of someone who'd known me since sandbox days. "Though these days, I think you might have your eye on a different Cameron."
"Sarah," I warned, but couldn't help grinning. Twenty years of friendship meant she could get away with more than most. Even if we'd complicated things by dating last year, we'd found our way back to being best friends. Some bonds run deeper than romance.
Dr. Larissa Genrette caught my eye from across the lawn and gave a subtle nod. She stood with her usual crowd of Figure Eight mothers, playing her part perfectly. Most of them had no idea she was helping us tonight.
"Remember when our moms used to dress us in matching outfits for these things?" Sarah reminisced, adjusting my collar with the casual intimacy of someone who'd been doing it since we were five.
"You were a terrible Barbie," I teased back. "Always getting your dresses muddy in the marsh."
"And you were an equally terrible Ken, sneaking frogs into Rose's purse."
"Your brother helped with that one if I remember correctly," I said, trying to sound casual at the mention of Rafe.
"Speaking of my darling brother," Sarah's eyes sparkled mischievously, "he cleaned up nice tonight, didn't he?"
I tried not to look where Rafe stood across the lawn but failed miserably. He'd always been attractive-that was just a Cameron genetic gift-but lately, something had shifted between us. Lingering looks, charged silences, moments where it seemed like maybe...
"Subtle, JJ. Real subtle," Kiara commented, joining our little group.
"Oh please," Sarah grinned, "JJ hasn't been subtle since he pushed my brother into the pool at our eighth birthday party."
"That was an accident!"
"Sure it was, Ken," she winked. "Just like all those times you two disappeared during my sweet sixteen."
"We were hiding from your dad," I protested, though my cheeks felt warm.
"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" Sarah teased.
"Children," my mother's voice carried across the lawn as she approached with clear purpose. The Figure Eight mothers watched with interest as she reached us. "Is everything in place?"
Even after all these years, it was still strange seeing Mom conspire with Sarah Cameron. They'd been thick as thieves once before that summer changed everything.
"Dad's heading to the boat," Sarah confirmed quietly. "Just like you said he would."
Mom's expression hardened slightly. "Be careful. Those files aren't just about the hospital or the Royal Merchant. They're about that summer-about both sides of your family, JJ."
"We've got this, Dr. G," Sarah assured her, slipping into the childhood nickname. "Besides, I think Rafe will make sure nothing happens to JJ."
"Sarah," I hissed, but Mom just smiled knowingly.
"History has a way of repeating itself," she said cryptically. "Just be safe. All of you."
As she walked away, Rafe moved closer to our group. "Security's handled. Topper's making sure it stays that way."
"My hero," Sarah mock-swooned, then stage-whispered to me, "Isn't he just dreamy, JJ?"
I could've killed her right there, but Rafe's small smile made my heart skip.
"Focus on the plan," I managed, trying to sound authoritative despite my burning cheeks. "We get in, find the files, get out."
"And then maybe you two can finally-"
"Sarah Cameron, I swear to god-"
"What?" she asked innocently. "I was just going to say 'solve the mystery.' What did you think I meant?"
Pope and Kiara were trying not to laugh. Even Rafe looked amused, though there was something else in his expression when our eyes met something that made my breath catch.
The truth about that summer was waiting. And this time, no amount of old money could keep it buried.
Though if Sarah had her way, it wouldn't be the only thing coming to light tonight.
The moment stretched between us. My mom's calculated gaze, my anticipation, Rafe and Sarah's barely contained energy. Years of careful planning converged in this single, charged instant.
"The boat," Mom said, her tone crisp. "Ward believes his security is impenetrable. He's wrong."
Rafe's laugh was soft, dangerous. "When is he ever right?"
I caught the subtle shift in his expression of anger, part something deeper. Family secrets had a way of cutting like broken glass, and the Camerons had more than most.
"We move in fifteen," Sarah confirmed, checking a slim watch that looked more like a piece of technological art than simple jewelry. "Topper's creating a distraction at the east entrance."
Mom's hand briefly squeezed mine, a rare moment of maternal connection that felt more strategic than emotional. "The Royal Merchant files aren't just about a shipwreck. They're about lineage. About connections that have been buried for generations."
"Buried like the treasure?" I couldn't help the sardonic edge to my voice.
"Deeper," she responded.
Rafe was watching me now, that intense look that had always complicated our friendship. We'd grown closer over the years, bound by something more complex than childhood rivalry. Shared secrets. Mutual understanding.
"Ready?" he asked, a single word loaded with everything unsaid.
The marsh waited. The boat waited. And somewhere in the darkness, a generations-old secret was about to break free.
"Classic Cameron move," Sarah muttered, "waiting until the last possible moment."
Rafe's fingers brushed against a slim electronic device tucked into his jacket pocket. "Security's looped. Dad's distraction is working perfectly."
Ward Cameron might believe he was orchestrating tonight's events, but we all knew better. My mother was always three steps ahead, her scientific precision matched only by her strategic thinking.
"The Royal Merchant files," I said quietly, more to myself than to Sarah or Rafe. "What exactly are we walking into?"
Sarah's eyes glinted with that particular mix of excitement and danger I'd known since we were teenagers. "Something that'll change everything about Figure Eight. About our families."
Rafe shifted a subtle movement that spoke volumes. Whatever was in those files touched him deeply, more than he was willing to admit.
Mom approached, her movement controlled, her emerald cocktail dress a stark contrast to the professional lab coats I'd grown up seeing her wear. She touched my arm, a rare moment of physical connection.
"Remember," she said, her voice low enough that only I could hear, "some truths are weapons. And tonight, we're preparing to fire the first shot."