LOGINI told my father I would be back.The words tasted hollow as I said them, like a promise made with fingers crossed behind my back. He lay there in the hospital bed, smaller than I remembered, his eyes tired but sharp with fear.He nodded, squeezing my hand as if he wanted to hold me there, to keep me from walking straight into whatever fire Pierce was planning next.“I need to stop him,” I said quietly. My father swallowed. “Be careful, Jane.”I didn’t trust myself to answer, so I just turned and left.The moment the hospital doors slid shut behind me, the weight crashed down again. Pierce is planning another fire. The words replayed in my head, over and over, like a match striking again and again, refusing to go out.I should have gone straight to Daniel.That was the logical choice. He had the resources. The connections. The experience of fighting Pierce and surviving it. And yet, as I stood in the parking lot, keys shaking in my hand, doubt crept in.What if Pierce was right?What
Daniel frowned slightly. “That was your dad, right? What did he say?”I looked at him, feeling the air shift around us, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.“He wants to talk,” I whispered. “He says he needs to tell me the truth.”Daniel then nodded. “You should. I’ll go with you.”I shook my head. “No. I need to do this alone.”He opened his mouth to argue, but I lifted a hand, stopping him. My chest tightened as the words pushed out of me, low and shaky.“Daniel… you’re still hiding something from me.”His face fell. “Jane…”“No,” I said softly. “Don’t deny it. I can feel it. And whatever it is… it’s sitting between us like a wall I can’t climb.”He swallowed hard, guilt flickering across his eyes.“This thing with my mother, with Pierce, with
The confusion clung to me like fog as Daniel and I stood in the middle of my living room, staring at the sheet of paper lying on my desk – the missing page.The one someone had broken into my home to deliver. A message. A threat. A warning. I didn’t know which.My pulse hammered. Daniel stepped closer, gently touching my arm. “Jane… we should read it.”I wasn’t ready. I was terrified of whatever truth waited on that page. But I nodded, because we had already gone too far to turn back.I picked it up with trembling fingers.My mother’s handwriting, the soft, looping cursive I recognized from childhood notes tucked into lunchboxes and birthday cards, stared back at me.And from the very first sentence, my world cracked open.The missing page explained everything. Everything I was never supposed to know. Everything that destroyed my family long before I understood there was anything to break.I sank onto the sofa as the words burned into me:“If the warehouse ever goes up in flames, it w
The torn edge of the missing page haunted me through the night.I kept staring at the envelope, at my mother’s handwriting, at the way the letter ended mid-sentence, as if she had been interrupted, as if someone suddenly came into the room, as if she never got the chance to finish.By morning, my head ached from piecing together fragments that made no sense. One thing was clear: the missing page mattered. It wasn’t just lost. Someone took it.Someone who didn’t want me to read it.I grabbed my car keys, determined to confront the only person alive who might know what had been written – my father.I had barely pulled out of my driveway when my phone rang.Daniel.For a moment, my heart stalled. Since his collapse in the interrogation facility, every call from his number made my stomach twist.I answered quickly.“Daniel? Are you okay?”His voice was steadier than before, but still soft. “Jane… I’m out. They cleared me temporarily, said I’m stable enough to go home as long as I check in
The envelope sat in my palm like something alive, pulsing with secrets I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Mrs. Calloway’s words still echoed through my head.“Your father wanted you to have this.”I stood there in her office, unable to speak, unable to even breathe normally. My hands were shaking as I stared at the envelope’s edges, yellowed, soft, and familiar.My mother’s handwriting.I knew it instantly. I’d recognize those looping curves anywhere. She used to write little notes and tuck them in my lunchbox. Have courage, sweetheart. You shine everywhere you go. Never let fear decide your future.I swallowed hard.“My mother wrote this?” My voice cracked.Mrs. Calloway gave a slow nod, her eyes unreadable. “Your father gave it to me years ago. Told me to protect it. Told me to give it to you only… when the past caught up.”“When the past caught up?” I repeated, stunned. “What does that even…”But I stopped myself. I didn’t want another word from her. Not after what she’d confessed. No
Mrs. Calloway.My mentor.My advisor.The woman who helped me build everything I had. She had been the one pulling strings in the dark against me. And I had never suspected a thing.A cold, dizzy feeling washed through me. I couldn’t breathe in that room anymore. I knew exactly what I needed to do.I had to confront her.I stood so fast that my chair scraped the floor. My legs felt unsteady, but I didn’t stop. I walked out of the quiet back office, down the hall, and toward her floor, each step heavier than the last.I didn’t knock.I couldn’t.I was too full of anger, fear, and confusion, everything I had been holding inside since Daniel collapsed. Since I saw the access logs. Since one name kept repeating like a stain that refused to wash off.I pushed open her office door.She looked up from her desk, calm as ever, her silver-rimmed glasses perched low on her nose. The afternoon sunlight spilled over her perfectly arranged papers, casting a warm glow across the room. It made every







