MasukThe morning light crept through the windows, pale and cold.Brianna sat at the kitchen table, the file still open in front of her, her father's letters spread across the wood. She had read them all. Every word. Every plea. Every hope. And now she knew the truth.He had never known she existed.She looked up at Dawson. He was still sitting across from her, his face tired, his eyes patient. He had not moved all night. He had just watched. Waited. Been present."He doesn't know I exist," she whispered.Dawson leaned forward."What?"She held up one of the letters. Her father's handwriting. Desperate. Hopeful."He wrote this to my mother. Before I was born. He was asking her to let him be part of my life." Her voice cracked. "But she never told him. She never told him I was born."Dawson was quiet."She kept you from him."Brianna nodded. Her eyes were wet."She kept me from him. All those years. He was out there, looking for me, wanting to know me. And she never told him."She set the le
The room was dark when Brianna opened her eyes.She had not meant to fall asleep. The locket was still in her hand, the photograph of her father pressed against her palm. She sat up slowly, her body heavy, her mind still spinning.Dawson was sitting in the chair by the window.He had not turned on the light. His face was in shadow, but she could see the outline of his body, the stillness of his posture. He had been watching her sleep. Waiting for her to wake."How long have you been there?""A while."She looked at the locket. At her father's face."I fell asleep.""You needed it."She tucked the locket back into her pocket. She stood up. Her legs were unsteady."I need to go to the police station.""Tomorrow." His voice was calm. "It's almost midnight."She walked to the window. Looked out at the dark trees."I can't stop thinking about him.""About your father?"She nodded."He was going to testify. He was going to bring them down. And they killed him for it." She turned to face him
The cabin was silent.Brianna sat alone at the kitchen table, the file spread before her, her father's photograph in her hands. She had been staring at it for a long time. The face. The smile. The eyes that looked so much like her own.She had never met him. She had never heard his voice. She had never known what it felt like to be held by him. But she knew him now. She knew what he had done. She knew what he had tried to do. She knew what had been taken from him.Her thumb traced the edge of the photograph."Antonio Rossi," she whispered. "My father."The name felt strange in her mouth. Foreign. Like something she had borrowed from someone else's life.She set the photograph down. Picked up the next page. A letter he had written to her mother, never sent.Eloise,I know you told me to stay away. I know you said it's better this way. But I can't stop thinking about her. About our daughter. I see her face in my dreams. I hear her voice in the silence. I know she is out there, and I kno
The cabin was quiet when they returned from the police station.Brianna sat at the kitchen table, the file spread before her, her eyes moving across the pages. She had read everything. The biography. The evidence. The letters. But there was one section she had not yet fully examined.The target file.She pulled it out of the folder. It was marked with a red stamp. CONFIDENTIAL. She opened it.The first page was a photograph of her father. Antonio Rossi. Standing outside the courthouse. The same photograph she had seen in the velvet box. But there was more now. Notes. Dates. Locations.She read the words carefully.Target: Antonio Rossi. Objective: Prevent testimony. Method: Kidnapping. Location: To be determined. Team: Eric Van Doren, Declan Van Doren, Viktor.She read it three times."Kidnapping."Dawson looked up from his own papers."What?"She held up the page."The target order. It wasn't assassination. It was kidnapping."He walked over to her. He looked at the page. His face we
The file was thick.Inspector Rossi handed it across his desk, his face unreadable, his eyes steady on hers. Brianna took it with both hands, her fingers trembling against the worn cardboard cover."Everything I have," Rossi said. "Everything your father collected. Every piece of evidence. Every witness statement. Every name."She looked at the file."He gave you all of this?""He gave me copies." Rossi leaned back in his chair. "He knew Declan would come for him. He wanted to make sure the truth survived."She opened the file.The first page was a biography. Typewritten. Neat. Organized. She read the words slowly, letting them sink in.Antonio Rossi. Born in Florence, 1965. Educated at the University of Bologna. Graduated with honors in law. Entered public service in 1990.She turned the page.His career was laid out before her in careful detail. Every position. Every accomplishment. Every battle he had fought. He had started small, as a clerk in the local court. He had worked his wa
The file was thick.Inspector Rossi handed it across his desk, his face unreadable, his eyes steady on hers. Brianna took it with both hands, her fingers trembling against the worn cardboard cover."Everything I have," Rossi said. "Everything your father collected. Every piece of evidence. Every witness statement. Every name."She looked at the file."He gave you all of this?""He gave me copies." Rossi leaned back in his chair. "He knew Declan would come for him. He wanted to make sure the truth survived."She opened the file.The first page was a biography. Typewritten. Neat. Organized. She read the words slowly, letting them sink in.Antonio Rossi. Born in Florence, 1965. Educated at the University of Bologna. Graduated with honors in law. Entered public service in 1990.She turned the page.His career was laid out before her in careful detail. Every position. Every accomplishment. Every battle he had fought. He had started small, as a clerk in the local court. He had worked his wa
The dress hung on the back of her door like a ghost.Brianna had found it in the back of her closet that morning, buried under clothes she never wore. Simple. Navy blue. Long sleeves. A neckline that didn't invite attention. It belonged to Dawson's mother, left behind in a room that had been untouc
The glass of whiskey in Eric’s hand tilted as he took a step closer, the amber liquid swirling like his dark intentions. The lock on the door clicked with a finality that made the air in the room turn thin."Don't look so terrified, Brianna," Eric said, his voice dropping to that patronizing, sicke
The sun hadn't even fully risen when the door to Brianna’s new bedroom creaked open. She scrambled to sit up, her heart nearly leaping out of her chest.It was her mother. Eloise was already dressed in a sharp power suit, looking like she hadn't spent the night in a house full of monsters. She didn
The gates of the Van Doren swung open.Brianna watched the limestone pillars blur past, her stomach churning with every inch the limousine moved forward.Beside her, Eloise was checking her reflection for the tenth time. Her mother looked radiant in a silk dress that cost more than their last three







