The flawless wall

QUINN’S POV

"He’s clean."

Chief John threw a thick, leatherbound folder onto the center briefing table with enough force to send a gust of cold air across the room.

"I don't believe it for a second," John snapped, pacing the narrow space between the whiteboard and the projector screen.

"I want every single off-the-books asset we have on Siren Global. I don't care if you have to dig through tax filings from ten years ago. Find me a crack."

"Chief," Neha said carefully from her stool, leaning forward. "Vance made it clear…"

"I don't give a damn what Vance said!" John barked, his eyes blazing.

"He just swallowed the entire North Harbor project whole, right in front of our faces. You tell me a man pulls off a trick like that without breaking a single law? Dig. Find something."

He didn't wait for a response before slamming his office door shut behind him.

The room fell into an uncomfortable, heavy silence.

I sat down at my desk, staring at the glowing screen.

We've been on it for six hours now. It was infuriating. Siren Group wasn't just legitimate, it was pristine.

Every subsidiary was registered, every account declared. It seemed unreal.

Four years ago, Ronan had taken full control of the company after his father stepped down. In less than forty-eight months, he took an already wealthy construction firm and transformed it into an untouchable corporate titan.

Public records were sparse, stripped down to basic facts. Born into wealth. Educated privately overseas. Mother deceased at age twelve. No criminal record. Not even a traffic violation.

"Anything?"

I looked up as Neha slid into the chair beside mine, holding two paper cups of coffee.

"He's a ghost," I said, rubbing the bridge of my nose as a dull headache began to pulse behind my eyes.

"He manipulated a sitting U.S. Senator in a single night," I muttered, my voice tight. "You can't do that with just good legal counsel, Neha."

"I know," she said quietly. She turned her head, looking at me with a sharp, perceptive gaze. "But Chief John is chasing a shadow right now because he's angry. You... you're looking at Siren like it's personal."

I stiffened slightly, keeping my eyes fixed on the monitor. Neha sighed, placing a grounding hand on my arm.

"Men like Ronan Siren don't even see people like us, Quinn. Don't let yourself get obsessed with him. If you step out of line trying to prove something against Siren, John won't be able to protect you."

"I'm just doing my job," I said flatly.

"Right," she said, though her tone made it clear she didn't entirely believe me. She stood up, tapping her knuckles against my desk. "Get some sleep, Quinn. You look like you're about to collapse."

I looked at the clock on the wall. It was nearly 7:00 AM.

"Yeah," I forced out. "I'm heading out."

The smell of disinfectant hit me the second I stepped through the sliding glass doors of St. Mary’s Hospital.

I pushed my mother's hospital room door open quietly.

My mother lay in bed, her face pale against the white pillows, the slow, rhythmic hum of the heart monitor filling the quiet space.

Sitting in the armchair beside her was my sixteen-year-old sister, Quincy. Quincy looked up as the door clicked, her tired eyes lighting up faintly.

"Hey," she whispered, setting the textbook on the bedside table and standing up.

"Hey, Quince," I said, stepping into the room and pulling her into a quick, tight hug. She buried her face in my shoulder for a brief second before pulling back. "How is she?"

"She slept for a few hours after the morning vitals," Quincy said, keeping her voice low as she glanced back at our mother.

I walked over to the side of the bed, gently taking my mother's thin hand in mine. Her skin was cool, almost translucent.

"Quinn... she looked really bad last night. She was shivering, and she couldn't keep any liquid down."

"I know, kiddo," I said, running a hand over my face. "I know."

"Are we... is the new treatment working?" Quincy asked, her voice cracking slightly.

"Because she told me yesterday that she was tired. Real tired, Quinn."

My chest tightened so hard it hurt to draw a breath. I looked at my younger sister, at the dark circles under her eyes, at the way she was always in a hospital room.

"I'm handling it, Quince," I lied smoothly, forcing my voice to stay steady.

"Don't worry about the treatment. You just focus on school. Okay? I promise you, I'm handling it."

She searched my face for a second, looking for any sign of doubt, before she gave a quiet, hesitant nod. "Okay. I... I have to get to school soon."

"Go," I said, reaching into my pocket and pulling out two twenty-dollar bills and pressing them into her palm. "Take the bus. Get something decent to eat on the way."

"Thanks, Quinn," she murmured, packing her textbook into her backpack. She leaned over, kissing Mum’s cheek softly. "I'll come back right after my last class."

"I'll be here," I said.

I watched Quincy close the door behind her. Once she was gone, the heavy silence of the room settled over me like lead. I sat in the chair she had just vacated, holding my mother's hand in the dim light, staring at the floor.

I felt completely hollow. The precinct, Chief John's anger, Ronan Siren, none of it meant anything in this room.

All that mattered was the ticking clock and the numbers on my bank statement that proved I was failing the only people who depended on me.

After twenty minutes, I stood up, gently resting Mum's hand back on the blanket.

I needed to see Dr. Peter. I walked down the long, sterile hallway toward the nephrology consultation offices at the end of the corridor.

The door to Dr. Peter’s office was slightly ajar.

I raised my hand to knock, pushing the door open the rest of the way.

Dr. Peter was sitting behind his mahogany desk, a thick medical chart open in front of him, looking visibly flustered.

And sitting in the high-backed leather chair across from him, dressed in a tailored dark suit with his legs crossed effortlessly, was Ronan Siren.

I could recognize him from his back only, my mind couldn't catch that fact fast enough as I stood there, shocked.

Ronan didn't turn around immediately, but as the door creaked, he slowly tilted his head back, his sharp grey eyes finding mine.

A faint, unreadable expression passed over his face before settling into that familiar, quiet composure.

"Officer Maryham," Ronan said smoothly, his voice filling the quiet office. "What a pleasure seeing you here."