Riri🤎の小説

For several seconds, nobody breathed.Nobody moved. The photograph remained illuminated on Adrian's phone screen.A recent photograph.Not ten years old.Not altered.Not a blurry security image.Recent.Real.Alive.Celine stared at the face she had spent a decade mourning.The face she had memorized from fading photographs.The face she'd searched for in crowds.Dreamed about.Cried over.Buried.Her father.Sebastian Wolfe.Alive."NO."The word escaped before she realized she'd spoken. Her voice sounded hollow.Broken."NO."Adrian didn't answer.Because he looked just as shocked.Around them, the archive remained silent beneath the crimson red emergency lights.The guards exchanged uneasy glances.Nobody knew what to say.What could they say?The dead weren't supposed to come back.Yet there he was.Standing beside a black SUV.Wearing a dark coat.Older.Thinner.But unmistakably Sebastian Wolfe.Celine snatched the phone from Adrian's hand.Her fingers trembled.She zoomed in.

None spoke.The image on the tablet seemed to have left all of them dumbfounded.The silver lighter gleamed beneath the security camera's grainy footage.A small object.An ordinary object.Yet Celine felt as though she had been dealt a hard blow.IMPOSSIBLE.The lighter had disappeared ten years ago.The police claimed it was lost during evidence transfer.She had spent years tracking rumors, bribing former officers, digging through archives.Nothing.No trace.No answers.And now it was here.Inside Adrian Kane's estate.Her father's lighter.The security guard shifted nervously."Sir?"Adrian remained still.His eyes were no longer on the tablet.They were on Celine.Watching.Studying.Waiting.Celine immediately forced her face blank.Too late.She already knew it.He had seen everything.Every ounce of recognition.Every flicker of shock.Every crack in her armor.A mistake.A massive mistake.The guard cleared his throat."We're currently searching the grounds."Adrian finally

Seconds passed as the silence stretched between them. Celine stood frozen beneath Adrian Kane's cold gaze, every muscle in her body stiffened with tension.The tablet remained in his hand.The security guard shifted uneasily near the door. None spoke nor moved.The storm lashed against the windows like a living thing. Then Adrian looked back down at the screen.His expression revealed nothing.He was too calm for the situation.And somehow that terrified her more than ever.The guard cleared his throat."Sir?"Adrian remained focused on the footage.Seconds ticked by.Celine's heartbeat hammered against her ribs so violently she was certain everyone in the room could hear it.The footage would show everything.Her entering the hallway.Her lingering outside the study.The lock picking.Her slipping inside.There was no excuse she could give.No lie convincing enough.No escape route.She had been caught.The only question now was what Adrian planned to do about it.Finally, he handed t

For a moment, Celine forgot how to breathe.The black file felt heavier than normal.Her eyes remained locked on the gold imprints stamped across the first page.SEBASTIAN WOLFE.Her father's name.Ten years.Ten years of searching, digging, surviving, and somehow she had found the first real piece of him hidden inside Adrian Kane's private study.The storm rattled the windows.Thunder growled somewhere beyond the mansion walls. Celine swallowed hard and opened the file. The first photograph nearly made her drop it.Her father.Not the polished businessman from magazine covers. Not the confident man she had remembered.This Sebastian Wolfe looked exhausted.His suit hung loosely from his frame. Dark circles shadowed his eyes.The date in the corner made her stomach churn.Three days before his death."What the fuck..."She turned the page.Financial records.Bank transfers.Corporate statements.Handwritten notes.Her pulse raced uncontrollably.Some of the documents looked familiar. T

The first time Celine Wolfe saw Adrian Kane up close, the storm outside the Manhattan ballroom raged like it had a personal problem against the city. Rain lashed against the towering windows. thunder rumbling low and distant, as if echoing the power and deceit swirling within the ballroom. Inside, the crème de la crème of New York society moved through the space like predators in silk and tailored wool, laughing too loudly, sipping champagne from crystal cups, their faces masks of gentleness that hid the monsters beneath. Chandeliers dripped with light, casting fractilms of rainbows across marble floors, while string quartets played softly in the background.Celine was not one of them. Not anymore.She moved among the guests in the crisp black and white uniform of the service staff, a silver tray balanced carefully on her palm, refilling glasses with the precision of someone who had spent weeks practicing this exact role. No one looked twice at her. That was the point. For the pas