Chapter Seventy-Four: The Consideration

I thought about what Adrian said for three days.

Not constantly. Not obsessively. But in the quiet moments. When I was making coffee. When I was reading reports. When I was staring at the ceiling at three in the morning.

I want to build something. With you. Something that isn't about revenge. Something that's just ours.

I didn't have an answer. I didn't know if I was supposed to. But the question stayed with me. It followed me from room to room. It sat beside me at my desk. It lay next to me in bed.

On the fourth day, I went to see my mother.

Not her grave. Not the cemetery. I went to the storage unit. The one where I'd found her journal. The one where I'd found the folder. The one where I'd found everything.

I hadn't been back since that day. I hadn't needed to. But something pulled me there.

The unit was the same. Dusty. Quiet. Full of boxes I hadn't opened. Full of things I hadn't gone through. Full of memories I hadn't faced.

I sat on the floor. I pulled a box toward me. I opened it.

Photographs. Old ones. From before. From when I was a child. From when my mother was alive.

I picked one up. My mother. Standing in a garden. She was smiling. She was holding a small child. Me. I was maybe three. I was laughing.

I set it down. I picked up another. My mother and father. On their wedding day. They looked happy. They looked young. They looked like they had no idea what was coming.

I set it down. I picked up another. My mother. Alone. Standing on a beach. Looking at the ocean. She looked peaceful.

I held that one for a long time.

She was going to expose Henry. She was going to win. And then she died.

But before she died, she lived. She loved. She laughed. She danced in the kitchen. She sang. She read to me at night. She told me stories about her mother. About her grandmother.

She had a life. A full life. A life that wasn't just about the day she died.

I set the photograph down. I looked at the box. At the other boxes. At everything she'd left behind.

I stood. I walked to the door. I locked it behind me.

I didn't take anything with me. I didn't need to. I just needed to remember.

---

That evening, I found Adrian in his office.

He was on the phone. He hung up when he saw me.

"You went to the storage unit," he said.

"Felix told you."

"Felix tells me everything."

"He does."

I sat across from him. I folded my hands on his desk.

"I've been thinking about what you said. About building something. Something that isn't about revenge."

He looked at me. He didn't blink.

"And?"

"I don't have an answer yet. But I'm not saying no."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded.

"That's enough," he said.

I stood. I walked to the door. I paused.

"Adrian."

He looked up.

"Thank you. For asking."

He didn't respond. He just looked at me.

"You're welcome," he said.

I left.

---

The next morning, I found Daniel in the living room.

He was sitting on the couch. He was reading. He looked up when I entered.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I am. Actually."

I sat beside him.

"I went to the storage unit yesterday. Mom's things. I went through some of it."

He looked at me. He didn't speak.

"I found photographs. From before. From when we were children. From when she was alive."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "I remember some of them."

"I brought one back. Just one. I left it in my room."

He nodded. He didn't ask to see it. He didn't need to.

We sat there. The city hummed outside. The clock ticked.

After a while, he said, "I'm glad you went."

"I am too."

We didn't speak again. We didn't need to.

---

That afternoon, Felix called.

"We have a name," he said. "The contact in Marseille. The one Volkov's been talking to."

"Who?"

"A man named Claude Fournier. He's a former dock worker. He knows the port. He knows the schedules. He's been helping Volkov for years."

"Can we get to him?"

"We're working on it. But he's careful. He doesn't leave his apartment. He doesn't use a phone. He only meets with Volkov in person."

"Then we watch him. We wait for the meeting. We follow him."

"We're already on it."

I hung up. I looked at the window. At the city. At the light.

Three weeks had become two.

---

That evening, I found Adrian in his office.

He was on the phone. He hung up when he saw me.

"Claude Fournier," he said.

"You heard."

"Felix told me."

"Felix tells you everything."

"He does."

I sat across from him. I folded my hands on his desk.

"We have a name. A location. A plan. We're getting closer."

He looked at me. He didn't blink.

"Good."

I stood. I walked to the door. I paused.

"Adrian."

He looked up.

"I've been thinking about what you said. About building something."

He waited.

"I think I want that," I said. "I think I want to try."

He didn't respond. He just looked at me.

"Good," 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.

I thought about my mother. About her life. About her death. About everything she'd left behind.

I thought about Adrian. About his question. About his patience. About everything he'd given me.

I thought about the woman I used to be. The woman who trusted too easily. The woman who died.

I wasn't her anymore.

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

Two weeks.

Then this ends.

Then I start living.