MasukLisa's PovWhat did I do? What happened between Tom Carter and me? It was connected to my father. It had to be. But what was it? Was it a legal case? A personal argument? Did I threaten him? Did I accuse him of something?The not knowing was a hole inside me. People kept referring to a past I could not access. They judged me for actions I did not remember. Andre. Diane. Now, Tom Carter and his campaign manager.I felt a sudden, fierce determination. I might be off the official case. But I was not done. This was no longer just about my father. It was about me. I needed to find out what I had done. I needed to know why my face was on a blacklist.I stood up and walked back to my desk. The Carter case files were still there. For now. Soon they would be taken away. I had to work fast. I had to find the truth before the trail went completely cold. The answer was in those files. I was sure of it. I just had to find it.I packed my papers slowly. The Carter folder felt heavier on my arm when
Lisa's POV Ross gave me a long look to see if he wanted to answer something I could not. “You have history. You, of all people you should know. You should play this smart.”Kenneth’s face tightened. He did not like the line Ross had drawn. “We will not make decisions just like that. We'll deliberate on it,” he said. “We make decisions on skill and evidence. Rachel has the competence and the will to see this through.”Ross shook his head. “This is politics,” he said. “We do not need competence only. We need a name that will not blow back. Tom Carter is not the kind of man who tolerates headlines about his lawyers. He might demand a change.”My stomach twisted. The room spun with a small mechanical sound. I wanted to ask what he meant by being on Tom Carter's blacklist. I wanted to ask the exact question. But I kept my face calm. I had learned that anger or surprise did not help when people held cards.“Let me be clear,” Ross said. “If we are to keep Mr Carter as a client, you must dec
Lisa's POV The morning started like any other. I arrived early and opened my drawer. The Carter folder sat where I left it. I wanted the quiet hours to do the deep work. The numbers and receipts gave me a place to stand. Facts were steady. People were not.I was at my desk, reviewing a witness statement. The words were familiar, a comfortable distraction from everything else. My phone buzzed. It was Mr. Kenneth’s assistant.“You are needed in the conference room. Now.”A knot tightened in my stomach. I stood up and walked down the hall. I straightened my shirt and followed her down the hall. My steps sounded louder in that corridor. The conference room door stood open, and the light inside was cool. I walked into the conference room.Mr. Kenneth was there. So was David Ross. Ross was the campaign manager for Tom Carter. He did not like me. We had met before. His face was hard when I walked in.Kenneth was at the head of the table with a stack of papers and his laptop. He looked up
Andre's PovThat night I went back to the hotel and tried to sleep. The images of Lisa's face when she had seen me with Diane still haunted me. I wanted to call her and tell her everything. I wanted to say, do not believe any story until you ask me. I wanted to step back into a place where the things I did were not in the open and raw. But Henry's voice had kept me steady. He had asked for proof. He had asked me to verify before any action.The next day, I made a move that felt small and real. I called the clinic during business hours, posing as someone who wanted to confirm a doctor's schedule. I asked for the file number. I asked if records would be held and which doctor had signed them. The receptionist gave answers that were neat and professional. I thanked her and hung up. The woman on the line had not hesitated. That set a small comfort.But comfort was not the same as truth. I had to do more.I sent a note to Henry, and he arranged a quiet check with a contact who could confirm
Andre's POV Six weeks.The number did not fit. It was wrong. It was all wrong.Now I started to remember other things. Small things I had ignored. When she first told me she was pregnant, I asked her to go to the doctor with her. She refused. She said she was not ready. She said she needed time. She gave me a doctor’s note instead. It was just a piece of paper.Then, her answers were always vague. How was she feeling? ‘Fine.’ What did the doctor say? ‘Everything is normal.’ She never wanted to talk about details. She just wanted to talk about us being a family.I felt a fool. A complete fool.Henry was right. I should have been more careful. I should have asked more questions. I let my guilt and my sense of duty blind me.I could not trust her words. I could not trust the doctor she chose. I had to find out the truth for myself.I started the car again. I drove to my hotel. I went up to my penthouse. The view of the city usually calmed me. Tonight, it did nothing.I had a plan. A pri
Andre's POVI drove back to the hotel with the city lights running past like small witnesses. I drove away from my house. The silence in the car was a relief. I had just dropped Diane off. The visit to the clinic was over. Everything had gone perfectly. Too perfectly.The doctor was calm. The files were ready. The ultrasound picture looked real. Diane played her part well. She looked scared and fragile. But a feeling stuck in my mind. A small, nagging doubt. It was all too smooth. It felt like a performance where everyone knew their lines.I was almost back to my hotel when my phone rang. It was Diane. I sighed and answered using the car speaker.I did not sleep well that night. The whiskey on the table had done nothing but slow my thinking enough to let the questions move. I kept seeing the doctor’s calm face. I kept thinking of the paper stamp and the neat signature. It looked official on the page, and yet something in the edges of the day did not sit right.My phone buzzed when I







