Adrian’s room was a masterpiece of order. Everything was arranged with clinical precision. If not for the masculine wardrobe and the luggage he’d arrived with, the room would have looked as though it had never been inhabited.
It was too perfect. To a man like Silas Veylor, perfection wasn't a sign of discipline; it was a sign of a fortress under guard. A man returning to his childhood home after years away should have been relaxed, letting his guard down. This "Adrian" was doing the opposite.
Silas methodically sifted through the sparse belongings. Tucked deep within a travel bag, he found a weathered notebook filled with the clumsy, looping script of a child—the real Adrian’s childhood diary.
A flash of inspiration struck Silas. He remembered the letters the imposter had sent to Selena
