Chapter Nineteen

Naomi barely slept.

Her study light remained on through the early hours, casting long, watchful shadows across case files and legal pads. A cold cup of tea sat untouched by her elbow, its warmth long forgotten. She had run every scan she could think of, traced digital fingerprints, compared backups—and still, nothing pointed to the culprit.

Nothing obvious.

At 5:42 a.m., her front gate clicked open.

Naomi was already at the window.

Daniel stood outside the gate, hoodie pulled over his head, hands in his pockets. She hesitated, then buzzed him in. By the time he reached the front porch, she was holding the door open, eyes still rimmed with fatigue.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said.

“Join the club,” she replied, stepping aside to let him in.

He followed her into the kitchen. She poured two mugs of coffee, black, no sugar—their unspoken agreement from weeks past. For a moment, they just stood there, the silence almost comfortable.

Then Naomi spoke.

“T