Ava’s POV
I didn’t take my shoes off when I got home. I just stood there in the half-dark of my living room with the folder clutched against my chest and the taste of panic at the back of my throat.
The note had followed me like a second heartbeat.
What was buried never stayed buried. Look closer.
I poured a little wine because the silence felt too loud, and I needed my hands to do something that wasn’t shaking. The glass left a faint ring on the marble table. I wiped it and left another ring anyway.
I should have called Leah, but she was out of town and I didn’t trust myself to sound normal. I should have called no one. Instead, I called Nathaniel again.
He answered on the second ring, voice low, edged in noise, music, clinking glasses, a bar. “Ava?”
“I’m not okay.” The words came
