I didn’t sleep that night.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him—Daniel, standing in my office with those blue eyes full of a thousand things unsaid. And then, behind him, the man under the streetlight, faceless and silent, was watching me.By morning, my chest felt like a vise. Exhaustion, fear, anger, they all tangled inside me, but one thought cut through it all.Daniel knew something.He had looked at that envelope like it wasn’t a mystery at all, like he recognized the handwriting, like he’d been expecting it. And he refused to tell me why.I couldn’t let that go.I found him the next day at a café downtown.I didn’t even know how I knew he’d be there. It was instinct, or maybe anger, guiding me. His name had surfaced again and again in newspapers and business blogs for years. Daniel Logan, the billionaire. Daniel Logan, the empire-builder. And now he was in New York, my city.He was seated at a corner table, sipping black coffee as though he didn’t carry a hundred secrets in hi
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