Semua Bab WIN ME, ATTORNEY: The Man I Should've Never Met: Bab 51 - Bab 60

The industrial district smelled of oil, rust, and wet concrete as Amarah moved quietly between the warehouses. Shadows stretched long under the dim glow of flickering streetlights, and the faint echo of distant machinery hummed through the empty streets. Every sound, every movement, felt amplified in the tension of the night. She paused at the corner of a large, abandoned loading dock, crouching behind a stack of wooden pallets. Her eyes scanned the area carefully. This was the first place where the trail felt real, tangible not just hints or markings, but something concrete. A slight metallic glint caught her eye: a thin, folded envelope, partially tucked under a crate. Carefully, she reached for it. Her pulse quickened as she unfolded the paper. Inside were coordinates, a small schematic of a building she had never seen, and a cryptic note: “The shadow moves where the light bends. Follow only the path that is unseen.” Her breath caught. This was no ordinary clue it was delib

Yna told herself she was overthinking. She had done that before allowed instinct to run ahead of evidence, let intuition whisper danger where logic insisted there was none. This time, she refused to fall into that trap. The case was closed. Signed, sealed, archived. It had been buried under years of paperwork and silence, and reopening it wouldn’t be simple. It couldn’t be. She sat at her desk long after office hours, the lights above her dimmed, the hum of the air conditioner the only sound keeping her company. In front of her lay a thin folder older than most cases she handled now. The pages smelled faintly of dust and ink that had faded with time. Closed, she reminded herself. For a long time. Cases like this didn’t resurface easily. They didn’t just wake up. Procedures existed for a reason. Protocols. Approvals. Clear chains of command. Even if something felt off felt that wasn’t enough. Yna closed the folder and pushed it aside. “There’s nothing here,” she whispered

The first thing Yna noticed was the silence. Not the peaceful kind the heavy one that settled after a decision had already been made. The office was unusually still, phones ringing less often, footsteps softer, as if everyone was unconsciously bracing for something they couldn’t yet name. She set her bag down and opened her email. One message sat unread at the top of her inbox. SUBJECT: Archive Review Request SENDER: Internal Audit TIMESTAMP: 06:14 AM Her breath stalled. Archive reviews were rare. Painfully procedural. And never random. She clicked it open. The request was brief formal language, neutral tone. A case number referenced in passing. No names mentioned. No accusations implied. But Yna recognized the number instantly. Her fingers curled against the desk. It’s just a review, she told herself. Routine. It doesn’t mean anything. Still, the timing felt wrong. Too precise. Too close to the unease she’d been carrying for days. Across the room, Lily laughed at somet

For the first time since she’d locked that cabinet, Yna stopped convincing herself she was wrong. And miles away, unseen, Amarah moved closer to the center of a storm that would soon have a name. Three paths. One buried truth. And fractures spreading quietly beneath the surface. Amarah had chased shadows long enough to recognize when one was finally leading somewhere real. The location wasn’t marked on any public map. No signage. No records. Just a quiet structure buried beneath layers of legitimate business exactly the kind of place power preferred to hide. Raven preferred places like this. She moved through the underground level with practiced calm, every step calculated. This wasn’t recklessness. This was proximity. She was close enough now to feel it the center of gravity pulling everything inward. The Big Boss isn’t a myth, she thought. He’s careful. Organized. Human. That made him dangerous. A vehicle rolled in behind her. She didn’t turn immediately. Engine

The rain hit the city in hard, sharp lines, splashing against windows and slick streets. Amarah stood on the rooftop of an abandoned warehouse, hood low, coat clinging to her like armor. Below, the city thrummed lights blinking, engines humming, life oblivious to the storm she was about to uncover. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled the encrypted file closer. She had chased shadows for months, tracing breadcrumbs, decoding half truths, narrowly avoiding traps. Each piece had felt manageable until now. She opened the latest data shard Jake had guided her to. It wasn’t much: logs, patterns, connections but one line of code blinked at her, like it had a pulse of its own. Her eyes widened as she traced it backward. It led to a name. A name she thought she had buried years ago. A name she had hoped she’d never see again. Her heart skipped. Gabriel. Not the man she knew, not the public figure. But the man controlling everything, the orchestrator she’d been hunting.