Beatrice.
The burned plantains sat in the pan like a warning.
I scraped them into the trash, my hands still shaking. Gerald leaned against the counter, watching me with that careful attention he always had—like I was a puzzle he was trying to solve.
"There's more," he said quietly.
I didn't want to hear more. Didn't want to know about warehouses or robberies or people getting hurt because of Adrian. But I kept scraping, kept my voice steady.
"What more?"
"The robbery wasn't just a robbery." Gerald pulled up something on his phone. "It was sophisticated. Professional. They didn't just break in and grab things. They hacked into Pierre Enterprises' systems first."
My hand froze on the pan. "Hacked?"
"Deep hack. The kind that takes weeks to plan and serious technical skill to execute."
