Morning light filtered through the blinds of Yna Reyes’s office, stripes of sun cutting across piles of scattered files. The city outside had begun its slow hum cars inching along streets, pedestrians moving with purpose completely oblivious to the threads of intrigue weaving through its midst. Yna sipped her coffee, eyes scanning yesterday’s notes, her mind picking apart inconsistencies that no one else might have noticed. “There’s something off here,” she murmured to herself, tracing a line between two documents. “Too neat… too convenient.” Her instincts flared, honed by years of chasing elusive truths. The timestamps, witness statements, even the phrasing in emails all seemed rehearsed, too perfectly aligned. Her pen hovered, connecting dots that weren’t supposed to connect. Someone was trying to guide her, but who? Her phone buzzed, a short message flashing on the screen: “Stay vigilant. Someone is closer than you think.” Her lips pressed together. “Interesting… and unnerving,
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