POV: VivienneThe photographs arrived in a folder at eleven in the morning. I was at my desk with coffee and the financial pages when the notification came through. I closed the newspaper, opened the laptop, and clicked into the folder with the methodical attention I gave everything that arrived from my sources. No rushing. No skipping ahead. You looked at information in sequence or you missed the things that mattered.Forty-seven photographs, Twelve days of coverage. I went through them one by one. Emily Carter on Birch Street. Emily Carter entering a small clinic on a quiet road, head slightly down, the particular forward lean of someone who didn't want to be recognised. Emily Carter at a coffee shop with a laptop, working, her hand wrapped around a cup. Emily Carter and the man, Dominic Reyes, at a Thai restaurant two nights ago, sitting close, his hand moving over hers across the table.I paused on that one. Studied it. His body language was unmistakable. The way he was leaning to
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