0002.

Amanda stared at the old photograph with trembling hands as several thoughts filled her mind. Her eyes darted back to the stack of papers and the brown envelope scattered on the floor.

The picture was unmistakable, her younger self, standing between her parents on the front porch of the home that burned down fifteen years ago.

It was the only photograph she remembered them ever taking together, yet she had none after the fire. How could James have this when she herself had nothing?

Her fingers shook as she reached for the faded documents in the envelope. The first letter was worn and smudged, the ink barely legible. She squinted, piecing together the words.

“Take down his company. Ruin him before he gets too powerful.”

Amanda’s chest tightened as she flipped through more letters, all addressed to an unknown recipient.

They were instructions to sabotage her father’s business, details of bribes, blackmail, and calculated moves to destroy his reputation.

She could hardly breathe as she came across another letter, one that made her stomach churn:

“Make it look like an accident. No loose ends.”

Her hands clamped over her mouth as the realization hit her. The fire that had killed her parents wasn’t an accident. It had been planned, deliberately set to silence them.

Amanda’s body shook violently, tears streaming down her face. The date on the letter was only weeks before the fire.

James had known. He had these letters. He had found the truth about her parents’ deaths and had said nothing.

Her eyes blurred as she dug deeper into the envelope. A folded newspaper fell into her lap. It was an article about the fire, headlined with suspicion of foul play.

The article hinted at her parents’ competition with none other than James’ family’s company. Her heart raced as she noticed another paper attached, a letter from James’ father, ordering the shutdown of the newspaper for defamation.

Flipping through, she found another article, this one about the newspaper’s eventual closure due to fraud charges.

It was clear now, James’ father had silenced the media, erasing all traces of their involvement.

Amanda dropped the papers, collapsing to the floor in a sobbing heap. Her chest heaved as she struggled to comprehend it all.

Everything she thought she knew about her life, her parents’ deaths, and even her marriage felt like a cruel lie.

She remembered her younger brother, who had never been found after the fire. He hadn’t been home, but she had clung to hope for years that he was alive somewhere.

Her mouth felt dry, bitter. She tried to stand but couldn’t. Instead, she sat staring blankly at the scattered papers when her phone buzzed again. The unknown number.

She picked it up, her hands trembling as she read the text:

“If you want the truth, go to this address. The journalist who wrote the article is still alive. He knows everything. But hurry, he’s in danger.”

The address wasn’t far, on the outskirts of the city. Amanda’s heart pounded as she made a snap decision. She couldn’t sit here and do nothing.

Clutching her phone, she stood, leaving the scattered papers and envelope behind. She didn’t even think of Kendall as she grabbed her car keys and stormed out of the house.

The roads were empty, the city silent under the midnight sky. Amanda drove with a single-minded determination, her foot pressing hard on the accelerator.

The wind whipped through her hair as she sped past dimly lit streets and out toward the address.

When she arrived, the house matched her expectations, small, tattered, and almost forgotten.

Her stomach churned as she stepped out of the car, apprehension and anger fueling her. She hesitated before knocking on the worn wooden door.

A moment later, it creaked open to reveal an aged man with wary eyes. “Who are you?” he demanded, his voice trembling.

“My name is Amanda,” she began, but he cut her off, his face pale.

“I don’t know anything,” he said quickly, trying to shut the door.

“Please,” Amanda cried, blocking the door with her hand. “I just want the truth. I’m not here to hurt you. I need to know what happened to my family.”

Her tears and desperation seemed to soften him. After a tense moment, he sighed and opened the door wider, gesturing for her to come in.

“I was the journalist,” he admitted, his voice low. “I wrote the article. I uncovered everything, the fire, the sabotage, the murder. But they… they threatened my family. I had no choice but to stop.”

“Sir Watson?” Amanda whispered.

The man nodded. “They shut us down. Ruined my life. I’ve been living in hiding ever since. They’re dangerous, Amanda. If they know you’re digging into this…”

“I don’t care,” she said, her voice breaking. “They took everything from me. My parents. My brother. I need justice.”

The man shook his head gravely. “Justice is dangerous. Don’t pursue this unless you’re ready. You need power. Resources. Work in secret, or they’ll destroy you too.”

Tears streamed down her face as she thanked him. Leaving the house, she sat in her car, sobbing uncontrollably. Her mind spun with the weight of it all until she suddenly remembered: Kendall was home. Alone.

She raced back, her tires screeching as she sped through the empty streets. Pulling into the driveway, her heart sank when she saw the front door ajar, the lock splintered.

“Kendall!” she screamed, rushing inside.

She bolted to Kendall’s room, her breath catching in relief when she saw her daughter sound asleep. But the relief was short-lived. Something was wrong. She ran to James’ office, her stomach sinking when she found the envelope and documents gone.

Panicking, Amanda checked the CCTV footage. Her hands shook as she rewound the footage and froze on the image of a hooded figure entering the house and leaving minutes later.

They knew. They had been watching her.

Her mind reeled as fear took hold. She wasn’t safe. Kendall wasn’t safe. And if they knew who she truly was, she didn’t know how long they’d been tracking her, or why.

Clutching her daughter tightly in her arms, Amanda whispered, “I won’t let them take you too.”