Neither of us slept.By six in the morning, Damian had already called Elena Rostova, his lawyer, the only person outside this apartment he trusted enough to bring into something this fragile. She arrived before seven, sharp suited even at that hour, her dark hair pulled back tight, a leather folder tucked under one arm like she'd already guessed this wasn't a social visit."You said this was urgent," she said, setting the folder down on the kitchen counter. "You didn't say it was about Marcus.""You know something," Damian said. It wasn't a question.Elena's eyes flicked to me, then back to him. "I know that sealed court records don't stay sealed forever if you know which judge to ask. Give me a day. Maybe two." She paused. "Whatever this is, Damian, tread carefully. If Marcus really is connected to Arthur Vance, and he's kept it hidden for eight years, there's a reason. People don't bury a truth like that unless they're protecting someone, or afraid of someone.""Or both," I said qui
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