LOGINThird Person POV
The call came at seven in the morning, earlier than Whitlock usually reached out. "We got a name," she said, skipping any preamble. "Swiss authorities cooperated faster than expected, given the federal case's profile. The account holder is listed as a trust management firm, but the beneficial owner behind it—" She paused. "Whitlock," Sophie said, gripping the phone tighter. "Who is it?" "Simon Cross," Whitlock said. "Adri“Why does the message say your name?” Camille stared at the screen, her shadow frozen against the hum of the old monitor. She didn't answer. “Camille.” Amelia took a deliberate step toward her. Still nothing. “Why?” “I don't know.” Camille finally looked up, her expression completely hollow. “You're lying.” “No.” “You're looking at that screen like you've seen it before,” Amelia said, her voice dropping. Camille swallowed hard. “I've seen messages like it.” Amelia's heart skipped. “Messages?” Camille looked away, her gaze drifting toward the darkened corners of the room. “Not here.” “Where?” she asked “Before.” “When?” Camille hesitated, her jaw tightening. “Years ago.” Amelia's grip tightened around the folder until the paper creaked. “You knew
The voice disappeared. For several seconds, Amelia remained frozen. The words were still echoing inside her head. It's finally time for you to meet your sister. Her eyes moved slowly toward Camille. “My sister?” She asked Camille didn't answer immediately. Instead, she looked at the computer screen. The DNA report was still open. Amelia noticed the hesitation. “You know something.” she said Camille exhaled. “The files in this facility aren't always what they appear to be.” “That isn't an answer.” “No.” Camille said “Then give me one.” Camille looked at her. “The records you found were part of a classification system. Subjects we
The voice came from directly behind her. Amelia spun around so quickly the folder nearly slipped from her hands. Standing in the doorway was Dr. Camille Arden. Her white blouse was stained with dust from the crawlspace, but she looked remarkably calm, as though she had expected this moment for years. For several long seconds, neither woman spoke. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glow across the hidden room. "You..." Amelia whispered, disbelief written across her face. Camille met her gaze. "I was hoping you'd never find this room." She said "You knew about it." Amelia said "Yes." She replied "You knew Nathan was lying." "Yes." Camille swallowed hard "I knew enough." Amelia let out a bitte
The air inside the crawlspace was thick with dust and decay. Amelia pressed a hand over her mouth to stop herself from coughing as she crawled forward on trembling elbows. Every movement stirred years of settled dirt into the air. Below, Nathan stood at the foot of the ladder. "I know you're up there," he said calmly "Please come down." His voice wasn't angry. That frightened her more. Grace remained behind him, her eyes fixed on the opening. "Nathan," she whispered, "don't." He ignored her. "Amelia, you're not safe up there." He said Her heart pounded. Not safe? She glanced deeper into the cramped attic. The beam of sunlight slipping through a cracked roof tile revealed rows of forgotten box
Vivian's new cooperation agreement took nearly a week to negotiate, her lawyers pushing hard for reduced exposure in exchange for what Whitlock called "substantially more valuable information than previously provided." "She's holding something back," Whitlock said during a briefing at the penthouse, Daniel sitting in for the first time, notebook open, clearly determined to prove himself worthy of the seat Sophie had offered him. "Her lawyers keep hinting at additional information contingent on the final terms. I think there's something bigger she hasn't disclosed." "Bigger than the shell companies? Bigger than her connection to Eleanor?" Adrian asked, skepticism evident in his voice. "Possibly," Whitlock said. "I've learned not to underestimate how deep Eleanor's operations actually went." Daniel cleared his throat. "Can I say something?" Sophie nodded encouragingly. "Go ahead." "I looked
Third Person POV The call came at seven in the morning, earlier than Whitlock usually reached out. "We got a name," she said, skipping any preamble. "Swiss authorities cooperated faster than expected, given the federal case's profile. The account holder is listed as a trust management firm, but the beneficial owner behind it—" She paused. "Whitlock," Sophie said, gripping the phone tighter. "Who is it?" "Simon Cross," Whitlock said. "Adrian's uncle. His father's younger brother." Sophie's breath caught. "Adrian has an uncle?" "Estranged, apparently," Whitlock said. "According to preliminary records, he left the country decades ago, shortly after Adrian's father took full control of the company. No public presence since. We assumed he'd simply faded into private life." Sophie found Adrian in the kitchen, feeding Margaret her morning cereal, humming quietly under his breath. "Adrian," she sa







