Chapter Forty-Three: The Roses

Sloane found the florist before I finished my coffee.

She walked into my office at seven in the morning, still in her training clothes, and set a receipt on my desk.

"White roses. Delivered to the cemetery three days ago. Paid for in cash."

I picked up the receipt. No name. No address. Just a florist's stamp and a time.

"Who ordered them?"

"The owner doesn't remember. Cash customers don't leave impressions."

I set the receipt down. "Then we find someone who does."

---

The florist was a small shop on the east side. The kind of place that had been there for thirty years and would be there for thirty more. Sloane waited outside. I walked in alone.

The woman behind the counter was older. Gray hair. Reading glasses on a chain. She looked up when I entered.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm here about a delivery. White roses. Three days ago. To the cemetery on Mill Road."

She frowned. She set down her magazine.

"I remember that one."

I kept my voice even. "Do you remember who ordered it?"

She thought for a moment. "Young woman. Dark hair. She paid in cash. Didn't want a card. Didn't want a receipt. Said it was for her mother."

I didn't react. "Did she say anything else?"

"She said the flowers were late. She was upset about it. Said she'd been trying to get here for weeks."

I thanked her. I left. I walked back to the car.

Sloane looked at me. "Anything?"

"It was Mira."

---

I found her at a coffee shop three blocks from her apartment.

She was sitting alone. No Julian. No bodyguards. Just her, a cup of tea, and a book she wasn't reading.

I sat across from her without asking.

She looked up. She didn't look surprised.

"You found out," she said.

"White roses. My mother's favorite."

She set down her book. She folded her hands.

"I know it doesn't change anything. I know you don't owe me anything. But I wanted to do something. Something that wasn't about Julian. Something that was just—"

She stopped. She looked away.

"Just what?"

"Just for her," Mira said. "I liked your mother. She was kind to me. Even when she didn't have to be."

I didn't respond. I didn't know how.

"I know you hate me," she said. "I know you have every reason to. But I didn't want her grave to look abandoned. I didn't want people to walk by and think no one cared."

I looked at her. She looked at me.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it wasn't about you. It was about her."

We sat in silence. The coffee shop hummed around us. Someone laughed at the counter. Someone else dropped a spoon.

"I don't forgive you," I said.

"I know."

"I don't trust you."

"I know."

"But I believe you. About the flowers."

She nodded. She didn't smile. She didn't look relieved. She just nodded.

I stood. I walked to the door.

"Elena."

I stopped.

"He's going to do something," she said. "Julian. He's not just planning. He's moving. I don't know what it is. But it's soon."

I turned. I looked at her.

"Then we'll be ready."

I left.

---

That afternoon, I told Adrian.

He listened without interrupting. When I finished, he was quiet for a moment.

"Mira left the flowers."

"Yes."

"You believe her."

"I do."

He considered this. "Then we have one less thing to worry about."

"We have one more thing to worry about. She said Julian is moving. Something soon."

Adrian nodded slowly. "Then we move first."

"Agreed."

He stood. He walked to his desk. He picked up his phone.

"I'll call Felix. We'll accelerate the timeline. Two days becomes one."

"One day."

"One day."

I stood. I walked to the door.

"Adrian."

He looked up.

"This is it. After this, everything changes."

He held my gaze. Neither of us spoke.

"I know," he said.

I left.

---

That night, I sat in my room.

I didn't sleep. I didn't try to. I just sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall.

Mira left the flowers. Julian was moving. Everything was coming to a head.

I stood. I walked to the window. I looked at the city.

Tomorrow, we go public. Tomorrow, everything changes.

I wasn't afraid. I was ready.