LOGINThe admission confirms my worst fears about the position I've placed her in. By asking her to investigate Derek and Olivia, I've turned her into a potential target while compromising her professional standing. If Derek discovers her searches, he could have her fired for unauthorized access, ensuring
"You look tired, Lila," I say, keeping my voice gentle despite the urgency building in my chest. "Long night?" Her laugh carries no humor, emerging sharp and brittle in the ambient noise of clinking cups and muted conversations. "You could say that." She glances around the coffee shop once more bef
Geneva. Asset redistribution. Contingency plans. The phrases swirl in my mind as I read through the entire thread, each exchange revealing additional layers of coordination between Derek, Olivia, and unnamed external parties. References to account access, documentation preparation, and something cal
Derek Wolfe's communication patterns emerge first, predictable in their professional efficiency. Client emails follow standard templates, internal memos maintain appropriate corporate tone, scheduling confirmations arrive with clockwork regularity. But threaded through these routine exchanges are an
"I hope not," I say simply. "But I need to be certain." She nods slowly, understanding passing between us without the need for explicit explanation. Her pen returns to the paper, capturing the parameters of her assignment with renewed focus. "Complete discretion," she repeats, more to herself than
"Send her in," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. Lila enters with her characteristic energy, a leather portfolio clutched against her chest and a pen already positioned in her hand as if she expects to take notes from the moment she sits down. Her burgundy blazer is perfectly pressed, her shoes
I close my eyes against the change, close my eyes against the light, against the light of the moon, the light that is more than I am, more than I can be, more than I can hold. I close my eyes and breathe, breathe like I am human, like I am, like I am still Mara, like I am still, like I am. My brea
I fill the space with my uncertainty, with my resolve. I fill it with the tension of solitude, of old words and old remedies. The small, leather bag stares back at me from the desk. It holds more assurance than I feel, more composure than I want, more than I can be. Wolfsbane, chains, the inevitabil
The final confirmation comes in the shape of a hidden file, a false-bottomed drawer, a false life. Derek’s private study is full of shadows, of secrets, of quiet deceit. The storm drums against the windows like a warning, like an omen, like the edges of what I know to be true. I begin my search with
The bathroom lights are a yellow blur, the harsh fluorescent brightness making me squint, making my skin crawl, making the change come harder and faster and more unbearably raw. I stumble to the mirror, the surface cool and shocking against my overheated palms. The reflection is an unsteady accusati







