The living room of Ava’s mother’s house was full of movement. Noah’s guards were working silently, taking pictures and checking for fingerprints. One by one, they came back to Noah with the same report. "Nothing, sir." "No prints." "No camera footage." It was as if the person who broke in had walked through the house like a ghost, leaving no trace behind. Noah stood in the center of the room, staring at the white lily and the note on the dining table. He didn't move. He just stared at the small, fragile flower. One of his head guards stepped forward, his voice low. "He wanted us to find it, sir. It’s a message." Noah looked up, his eyes hard and cold. "No," he said. "He didn't want us to find it. He wanted me to." In the other room, Ava sat on the edge of the sofa next to her mother. The house felt smaller than she remembered, and the danger felt very real. Her mother looked at her, her expression worried. "Ava," her mother whispered, holding her hand. "Who is Noah, re
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