Nobela ni Victoria

The archive door still carried Lila’s warmth from when she’d closed it. Her own breath sounded way too loud in the tight little room. She kept running her thumb over her father’s photo, as if the paper might suddenly give her another story, a gentler one.A shadow flickered at the doorway.She went still.“Don’t scream,” someone said from the dark, calm and low like he had all the time in the world—and none of it for her.She didn’t move. “Who’s there?”A light snapped on in the corner. Daniel strolled in, hands buried in his pockets like he owned the place. He smiled, but his eyes didn’t bother.“You’re brave,” he said. “Or stupid. Hard to say.”“You sent me that photo,” Lila blurted out before she could stop herself. “Why?”He came closer. The air in the archive was thick with paper and some harsh metallic tang—old machines, maybe, or too much disinfectant. Up close, Daniel smelled like money and cold mornings, expensive coffee and a smile you didn’t trust.“Because you’re in the ri

Lucien didn’t look at Daniel. He kept his eyes on Lila.“Come with me,” he said. Not loud. Not pushy. But he wasn’t really asking.Daniel leaned back against a metal shelf, arms crossed. “Careful, Lila. This is the part where billionaires rewrite history.”Lucien didn’t blink. “You’re shaking.”Lila hadn’t even noticed. Now she felt it—anger, burning up in her chest. She hated that he saw it. Hated that Daniel saw it too.“I’m fine,” she snapped.Lucien shook his head. “No. You’re not.”That hit her nerve.“Don’t pretend to care,” she shot back. “You signed his approval.”Daniel smiled, just a little. He was loving this.Lucien’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He stepped closer—not in her space, just enough to take the spotlight off Daniel.“You deserve answers,” Lucien said. “But not with all this.”“With what?” Daniel jumped in. “In private? With the story already packaged? In a room where lawyers pick the color of the walls?”Finally, Lucien glanced at him.“You don’t care abo

The noise didn’t fade. It doubled, tripled—like someone had turned up the volume on chaos. Reporters weren’t just asking questions anymore. They were hurling accusations.“Mr. Cole, did you falsify medical records?”“Was the withdrawal forged after death?”“Miss Hart, were you aware of this?”Lila couldn’t even hear herself breathe. All she saw was the glare from the phone screen nearby: her father’s name, Lucien’s signature, a date stamped two days after her dad died. It looked bad. Worse than bad—it looked intentional. Criminal.Lucien’s face had gone so still, it scared her more than if he’d exploded. “That’s not the date,” he said again, but quieter, almost to himself.Nobody cared. Cameras kept rolling. Facts weren’t trending—scandal was. Daniel stood across the lobby, watching the whole thing like he was at a bonfire. He didn’t look shocked. He looked—satisfied.And that’s when something inside Lila just… snapped. Not heartbreak. Not fury. Clarity.Lucien moved toward her, just

The forensic team worked with the focus of surgeons, but none of the sterile calm. Maya, always in control, sifted through logs and timestamps like she was sorting puzzle pieces she already knew would fit. Lila hovered behind her, gripping the edge of the table so hard her hands ached.“You pulled everything?” Lucien’s voice cut through, quiet but sharp.“Yeah,” Maya replied, eyes still locked on the screen. “Archive server, access logs, version histories. You wanted everything mirrored. Lila handled the rest.” She nodded back at Lila.Lila felt her cheeks burn. She’d gotten to the server before Daniel—before anyone could mess with the files, before this all became tomorrow’s headlines. It was reckless, and bold, and it haunted her at night.Lucien looked at her, not accusing, just a hint of surprise. Maybe even respect. “You actually did it.”Maya narrowed her eyes at something on the screen. “There are overrides here. Admin-level pushes, date changes. But check this out.”She pointe

The hallway outside Lucien Moretti’s private archive felt off. Too quiet, too spotless—almost like someone had scrubbed away every hint of life. Lila stood there, gripping the access card Lucien had handed her earlier. “Just for research purposes,” he’d said. His words had been steady, almost rehearsed. But his eyes—she couldn’t forget how tired they’d looked. That wasn’t like him. Lucien always seemed like the kind of man who slept deeply and woke up ready. Yet this morning, those dark circles under his eyes looked permanent.She slid the card into the lock. The little green light flicked on. Accepted. The door clicked open, soft as a secret. She stepped inside.The room smelled faintly of old paper and something sterile. Metal shelves lined the walls, loaded with files, medical records, folders sealed tight and covered in warning stickers: Restricted. Confidential. Her chest tightened. She didn’t belong here. But her father’s name did.Lila walked in, slow, almost silent. Her finger

Lila’s hands shook as she turned the pages. She hadn’t planned to snoop. Really, she should’ve just shoved the folder back in the drawer and walked away. But it felt too heavy, almost like it was daring her to open it, like it knew her father’s death was tucked inside. And there it was—his name, bold and impossible to miss.John Harris.She sucked in a breath, heart hammering. The letters blurred for a second. Her chest tightened so much it hurt. He was listed as a participant in a clinical trial.Not just any trial. The one that had been going on at the hospital for months. The one Lucien Moretti—the CEO of Cole Medical himself—had signed off on.She stopped breathing for a second and flipped the page.There it was.Fake data. Side effects swept under the rug.Her dad was one of the patients.The same drug they’d promised would save people. And now it was the reason he was gone.Her head spun, blood roaring in her ears. How could they do this? How did Lucien Moretti get away with it?