The First Clue

By the time Praise returned to the Loperse Estate, the rain had intensified into a steady downpour. Water cascaded from the eaves, collecting itself in dark pools along the gravel driveway.

He stepped out of the car and paused beneath the covered entrance, staring up at the mansion that rose against the stormy sky.

Everything looked exactly as it had that morning—perfect, controlled, and untouchable. The marble columns still gleamed under the outdoor lights. The windows still reflected the estate’s carefully maintained image of power.

Yet Praise now knew better. Something was wrong, not only with Dylan, but the entire carefully constructed world surrounding Aurelius Luxe.

He entered through the main doors. The sudden quiet of the interior felt almost unnatural after the noise of the rain. Nora appeared immediately and took his wet coat with practiced efficiency.

“Mr. Renard,” she carefully said. “You’re back earlier than expected.”

“Mr. Loperse is staying at the company for now.” Nora nodded. He glanced toward the long hallway, leading deeper into the house.

“Has anyone been asking for me?” Her expression shifted for the briefest moment. It was so slight that most people would have missed it. “No.”

“Are you sure?” Praise noticed.  She hesitated, before shaking her head. “Yes.”

He gave her a polite smile and walked away. He did not believe her.

 The slight tension in her shoulders and the way her eyes had briefly darted away shows that, something had happened while he was gone.

In the staff corridor he changed into his formal house uniform. He had barely finished fastening his cuffs when he heard low voices coming from the kitchen. Claire and Leo were speaking in hushed tones, clearly trying not to be overheard.

Praise stopped just outside the doorway and listened.

“Did you see who came earlier?” Claire whispered.

“No,” Leo replied. “I only heard the front gate open. The guards let him through without much argument.”

“Someone came to see Mr. Loperse?”

“That’s what Nora said. She looked nervous about it.” Praise stepped into the kitchen.

The conversation stopped instantly. Both of them turned toward him with the practiced caution of people who had learned that information could be dangerous in this household.

“Who came?” he asked.

 “No one important.” Claire looked uncomfortable.

“That wasn’t my question.”

Leo glanced at Claire. She sighed. “A man came asking for Mr. Loperse about an hour ago. He’s tall and wore a dark coat, in his mid-forties, maybe. He wouldn’t give his name.”

 “The guards checked with the house, and Nora said to let him wait at the gate for a few minutes. Then he just… left.” Leo added

“Did he leave anything?” His instincts sharpened

Claire hesitated. After a moment she reached beneath the counter and pulled out a small black envelope. “He dropped this near the side entrance. I found it when I went out to check the service path.”

There was no name on the front, only a symbol stamped into the dark wax: a silver circle divided by a single vertical line. Praise recognized it immediately.

It was the same symbol that had appeared on the confidential report in Dylan’s office, the one that had labeled Vanel Lense a potential liability.

His pulse quickened. “Why didn’t you give this to Mr. Loperse?”

“We tried calling him,” Claire said. “He told us not to disturb him for any reason. He was very clear about it.”

“I’ll take it.” He held out his hand but Claire shook her head.

 “Mr. Renard, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Whoever left it specifically asked for Dylan. If he finds out we gave it to someone else—”

“Then I’ll make sure it reaches him,” Praise said evenly. “You won’t be involved.”

After a long moment, Claire reluctantly placed the envelope in his hand. Praise closed his fingers around it and left the kitchen without another word.

---

An hour later, Praise stood alone in the study. The mansion had grown quiet around him. Most of the staff had retreated to their own quarters. Rain continued to strike the tall windows in uneven patterns. He placed the black envelope on the desk and stared at it for a long time.

Every instinct told him to open it but every rule of his position told him not to. But rules had never saved Vanel Lense rather, secrets had destroyed him.

He broke the wax seal with his thumb.

Inside was a single photograph. His breath stopped.

It was Vanel, not from the runway or any carefully staged campaign, but a candid shot taken outside Aurelius Luxe several weeks before his termination.

Vanel was standing near the curb, his coat slightly open against the wind. Beside him stood another man whose face was partially hidden in the shadow of a dark car.

Even so, Praise recognized the expensive cut of the suit, the silver cufflinks catching the light, and the unmistakable posture of someone who had expected the world to move around him.

Dylan Loperse.

Praise’s fingers tightened around the photograph until the edges began to crease. He turned it over. The back had three words clearly written in sharp black ink:

[ASK HIM WHY.]

A sudden soft noise interrupted from the doorway. Praise spun around, his heart slammed against his ribs. Nora stood there, her expression carefully blank.

“Mr. Renard? Mr. Loperse called a few minutes ago. He’ll be home within twenty minutes.” Praise quickly slipped the photograph into the inner pocket of his jacket.

 “Thank you.”

Nora studied him for a moment longer than necessary, then left without further comment. Praise remained standing by the desk even after she had left. The weight of the photograph still pressed against his chest like a second heartbeat.

For seven months he had believed the story was simple.

Dylan had humiliated him and fired him. Destroying his career in front of the entire industry. Then Vanel died in a car accident, and the world simply moved on, clean and straightforward.

A perfect reason for revenge.

But now, the pieces no longer fit. Someone had watched and labeled him a liability before the termination. And now, he had just discovered someone had him photographed with Dylan in secret.

 Now, they wanted him, Praise, with a new face and a new name question Dylan.

He remained in the study as the minutes passed, listening to the rain and the distant sounds of the household preparing for the CEO’s return.

---

 Dylan finally entered the study, with his tie loosened, His expression carried the exhausted weight of a long day. His eyes found Praise immediately.

“You’re still awake.”

“ No, working here, sir.” Dylan closed the door behind him.

“I expected you to be asleep by now.”

“I couldn’t, too many questions.”

Dylan’s expression changed. The tiredness did not disappear, but buried in confusion. “What kind of questions?”

“Do you remember Vanel Lense?” Praise turned toward him fully.

Dylan went completely still. The silence that followed stretched long enough to become uncomfortable. “Why are you asking?” His voice was carefully controlled.

“Because I found something.” He pulled the photograph from his pocket and held it between them.  Dylan’s carefully constructed expression cracked.

He took the photograph, staring at the image of himself standing beside a man who was supposed to be dead. His jaw tightened.

“Where did you get this?”

“It was left here tonight. A man came to the estate earlier. He didn’t leave a name, only this.”

“By whom?”

“I don’t know.” Dylan’s eyes remained fixed on the photograph.

“I think someone wants you to investigate this.” Praise said.

“Maybe,” He said. “ But this isn’t a game, Renard, neither is my life.”

Dylan looked at the photograph again, longer this time. “This picture was taken three weeks before Vanel was fired. I knew someone was following him. I didn’t know who.”

Praise almost laughed, the sound dry and humorless. “You expect me to believe that?”

“No.” Dylan handed the photograph back. “I expect you to understand that whoever sent this wants you to believe I was responsible.”

“And were you?” He stared at him.

“I fired Vanel and I did it publicly without mercy. But I didn’t order anyone to hurt him. Neither did I arrange the accident.”

“Then who did?” Dylan paced to the window. His reflection appeared dark against the rain-streaked glass. For a long moment he simply stood there, looking out at the estate grounds.

“I have suspected the answer for seven months,” he said at last. “Someone inside the company. Someone who benefits most if Aurelius Luxe collapses or if certain people connected to it disappear.”

He turned back to face Praise. “Tomorrow you’re coming with me to a private meeting with someone who knew Vanel.”

Praise’s breath caught. The implication settled heavily between them.

Dylan opened the door but paused midway. “And Renard…” He called. “Don’t tell anyone about this conversation, not even the staff.”

He left without waiting for a reply.

For seven months he had wanted revenge against Dylan Loperse with a clarity that had kept him alive through surgery, pain, and the complete erasure of his former self.

Now, for the first time, he was no longer certain Dylan was the man he needed to destroy.

He slowly folded the photograph and returned it to his pocket. Tomorrow, he would meet someone from Vanel’s past.

And he intended to find out exactly what Dylan had been hiding—and who else had wanted Vanel Lense dead.